tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42744261372107783032024-03-13T21:02:12.745-07:00Dashboard Confessions of an Undisciplined MindA collection of serio-comedic musingsKathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-68782604669239421782018-01-28T10:52:00.000-08:002018-01-28T10:52:46.703-08:00Cornwall and Coal, Mining for Romance in the 18th Century Wallowing in 'tween-season of "Downton Abbey" and the aptly dubbed "Droughtlander", I stumbled across the PBS Masterpiece Theater gem,"Poldark". Unlike the decadent binge-watching that usually follows my discovery of a long-overlooked television series, I was limited to a single season, since that's all that has been produced to date.<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="English: Wheal Prosper near Rinsey. Prosper wa..." border="0" class="zemanta-img-inserted zemanta-img-configured amzn_view_checked shareaholic-media-target-hover-state" height="263" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/be/Wheal_Prosper_near_Rinsey_-_geograph.org.uk_-_31499.jpg/350px-Wheal_Prosper_near_Rinsey_-_geograph.org.uk_-_31499.jpg" style="border: none; font-size: 0.8em;" width="350" /><br />
<br />
My compulsive tendencies, aided and abetted by Google, revealed that the series is based upon a treasure trove of novels by Winston Graham, first published in 1945.<br />
<br />
The main character, Ross Poldark, was born in the 1700's. His youth was rather unremarkable before he joined the British Army and spent several years fighting in colonial America. Poldark finally returns home to Nampara in Cornwall, anxious to claim the beautiful young Lady Elizabeth Chynoweth. Although not formally engaged before he left for his stint at soldiering, they had a youthful understanding that they would be so, upon his return. Rumors of Ross's death as well as the actual death of his father, Charles, have preceded his return, and Poldark arrives to find his beloved engaged to his cousin. His home at Nampara has been sorely neglected, overrun with the remaining livestock as well as two drunken servants. With little money and even less hope, he sets out to repair and rebuild both his life and the remnants of his country property.<br />
<br />
<img border="0" class="amzn_view_checked shareaholic-media-target-hover-state" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuJjAOUPx6sPO9Q0eTCSmfcGS7Mdcmp3_MsV6Eolj3D8ZxBrg8YHIrgvfVKJG8DOgjBywmRr1ZP7B-CmDix66elKKaN7y7YoCgptppKrwg2TCGe3BKrGuuzJXIfcihhcF_d43zsk-9c0/s320/poldark.jpg" width="213" /> <br />
<br />
While visiting the country market to purchase meager supplies, he comes across a lamentably dirty child being punched and kicked by a group of rowdy boys. When no one intervenes, Ross steps forward and rescues her. He takes her back to his home with the intention of returning her to her family in the morning, but she begs him to let her stay on as a kitchen maid. The bruises and strap marks across her back bear testimony to her father's abuse, so Ross agrees with reluctance. Gossip and rumors fly about as young Demelza stays on, gaining the novelty of enough to eat and new clothing sans beatings. As she blossoms into a young woman, her gratitude develops into a desperate desire for Ross's affection, despite their difference in class.<br />
<br />
Torn between his lingering desire for the gentile Elizabeth and the fiery Demelza, Ross finds himself at a crossroad as he works to revitalize his family's old, closed copper mine. Should he follow the manners and conventions of polite society of the 18th century or seek the happiness that may ostracize him from everyone he knows?<br />
<br />
Note that this blog post previously appeared in "Girl Who Reads".Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-73127498016215412222017-11-04T11:30:00.001-07:002017-11-04T11:30:36.377-07:00YA Reading Jungle - "Tell Me Three Things"When 14 year old Jessie Holmes' mother dies, she feels lost. Counting each day afterward is her way of marking time, waiting for the pain to ebb. Her dad is buried in his own grief, leaving her adrift, with only her best friend, Scarlet, to cling to. Fast forward two years and Jessie is blindsided by her father's announcement that he is remarrying...and that they are moving from Chicago to California.<br />
<br />
Stunned, Jessie finds herself in a West Coast mansion, living with her dad, new stepmother and a stepbrother, who wants nothing to do with her. In addition to mourning the loss of her mom, she is now separated from her town, school, and best friend. She lands in a private school, populated with veneer-smiled, expensively dressed teens. This is not a place where she will ever fit in.<br />
<br />
When an anonymous male student texts her, identifying himself as "Somebody Nobody", and offers to be her guide through the maze of her California hell, Jesse is suspicious, but decides to accept. This strange boy becomes a lifeline for her as their virtual relationship grows and she develops coping skills that she never knew she possessed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFaNbcPJjaQ2fcrnBgu9wKdzUI0h-15E6i_edxMi9vhqgsIRDvrZPGzyDVrq5snc1OzouzFXwsxltJlsI065Xcl8YnO6CnKzhvZo8fdqm6HA0-SBe2920MFZLxKaQmCaL8F6MNTG8bMc/s1600/tell+me+three+things.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFaNbcPJjaQ2fcrnBgu9wKdzUI0h-15E6i_edxMi9vhqgsIRDvrZPGzyDVrq5snc1OzouzFXwsxltJlsI065Xcl8YnO6CnKzhvZo8fdqm6HA0-SBe2920MFZLxKaQmCaL8F6MNTG8bMc/s1600/tell+me+three+things.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I did not expect to like this book targeted at young teen girls, as I viewed reading it as a chore. The anxious, drama-filled 13 year old in my family circle is in need of appropriate books, so I've taken on the role of designated screener. "Tell Me Three Things" by Julie Buxbaum is a genuinely surprising read. The writing vibrates with humor and authenticity. The young protagonist's struggle to adapt to loss, change, and relationships is spot-on. It is a New York Times bestseller for good reason and I highly recommend it. I know our drama queen will love reading it! <br />
<br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-18950895256727972522017-06-26T19:06:00.000-07:002017-06-26T19:06:05.286-07:00THE WAR AGAINST WOMEN<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuFd6D5aoMWw6Stdu-qxhM4XGD-MXv7ou0KfIQXNo4pyyw3bzfrbPZ17OCgBOfB5xbIwy7F7-mBB08e5OPD32UiIrf-cq-tayVBBwo1cmu8O9RvMc5_3TL7L4XB4Rh_J2jgZK5UqrJmA/s1600/gilded+hour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuFd6D5aoMWw6Stdu-qxhM4XGD-MXv7ou0KfIQXNo4pyyw3bzfrbPZ17OCgBOfB5xbIwy7F7-mBB08e5OPD32UiIrf-cq-tayVBBwo1cmu8O9RvMc5_3TL7L4XB4Rh_J2jgZK5UqrJmA/s1600/gilded+hour.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes the politics of the day really get to me. Things just never seem to change. Women still make less than men. They bear the lion's share of rearing children and family nurturing. There are still men who want to deny women the choice of bearing children. When necessary, I retreat to the solace of reading fiction. It won't solve anything, but it provides a much-needed respite. The problem is that once I discover a fictional series, I grow to love the characters so much that it is more difficult to say goodbye to them than to those in a single, stand-alone novel. I felt that way with "Outlander" and then the "Into the Wilderness" series. It's going to be a while before Diane Gabaldon completes her next much-anticipated novel, so I nosed around to see if Sara Donati had written anything else. She had, so I took a chance on "The Gilded Hour".<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It focuses on the late 1800's and two women physicians, Anna and Sophie Savard. The depictions of old New York City are fascinating. Donati excels at historical fiction. I realized that life had to be difficult for female medical doctors at that time. The medical profession is changing, but make no mistake, it is still a male-dominated occupation. Women are still discriminated against more than most people realize. So imagine what life is like for a woman who is a practicing obstetrician during an era when birth control is against the law. Even disseminating information about how to avoid pregnancy is illegal. Childbirth was a very dangerous undertaking at that time, and women were subject to the whims of their husbands. Most had no idea how pregnancy could be prevented. <br />
<br />
<br />
Enter Anthony Comstock, an anti-vice crusader who is determined to extinguish anything considered indecent - including information on preventing pregnancy. While one sister is determined to help women gain some small bit of control over their lives, the other is dealing with the fallout - the orphans of deceased mothers and family members who, unvaccinated, fall victim to the various epidemic diseases common to those who live in poverty.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Donati delivers a compelling story that is a composite of history, romance and thriller. You will see the parallels with today's lingering patriarchal remnants. You will be angry. You will return to resist the present day. Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-81825084460831401672016-09-25T18:19:00.002-07:002016-09-25T19:05:32.261-07:00The Reunion<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXAktyP4CDK4xuZ7o1Ihfnt5QypIQQEXttFikcasNS8Y4RqfaPcnA5sq-29B6xM-o2oAyF90oXa5o7e3BmldNgUfoR6EI2z7BSoyvxinbUgQGRTjl4GF9FsLiB1Cp-J20ozo34-CI1xY/s1600/ind5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXAktyP4CDK4xuZ7o1Ihfnt5QypIQQEXttFikcasNS8Y4RqfaPcnA5sq-29B6xM-o2oAyF90oXa5o7e3BmldNgUfoR6EI2z7BSoyvxinbUgQGRTjl4GF9FsLiB1Cp-J20ozo34-CI1xY/s1600/ind5.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
School reunion celebrations are an American tradition, especially the milestone years: ten, twenty, and fifty. The big 5-0 is significant, as it is likely the last time you will see a good number of these classmates. Mortality weighs in, and the seats at the "death table" increase. Of about two hundred women, our committee members were able to gather information on one hundred and twenty. The other eighty had either vanished or just didn't care to be found. God forbid they should receive a letter from the Alumni Association asking for a donation to the Annual Fund. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLkd0VWbHins_09F2HsVxcbptUDCF3VOKmz90I3A45zK5fJazoLTvFB6jFsO1txX6Y3RV6HVkQ7AWtJ3fVwnn1ert9U-upff6ZvKF5A2cLRE4yWGPfxqaa4exZQwgu5X3ReZawDt4CrI/s1600/582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLkd0VWbHins_09F2HsVxcbptUDCF3VOKmz90I3A45zK5fJazoLTvFB6jFsO1txX6Y3RV6HVkQ7AWtJ3fVwnn1ert9U-upff6ZvKF5A2cLRE4yWGPfxqaa4exZQwgu5X3ReZawDt4CrI/s320/582.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
I had attended two earlier reunions, but wasn't sure I would attend this past weekend's events. Having been retired for several years, my wardrobe had diminished to yoga pants and tee shirts. In addition, those pants and shirts were a few sizes larger than the ones I'd worn back in the 1960's. Several friends asked me to reconsider, so I bought a few new things to wear and sent in my check. I'm glad I did, because it was a blast...and an endurance contest, the social equivalent of an Ironman competition.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMx7_Bs_Wc7sTJqhI_W8i_Y7GiTBa82G1RP6mWHyzwNx71WsHCLdh4CIOVkFd32Aj4dZ4YpK-HbRwGLvdTabxkqNkwnlZ2zmjibb0kOMuFdz7bUtLVQH21cymigvTzcbfEv6PR9cqONk/s1600/574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMx7_Bs_Wc7sTJqhI_W8i_Y7GiTBa82G1RP6mWHyzwNx71WsHCLdh4CIOVkFd32Aj4dZ4YpK-HbRwGLvdTabxkqNkwnlZ2zmjibb0kOMuFdz7bUtLVQH21cymigvTzcbfEv6PR9cqONk/s320/574.JPG" width="145" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We began with a cocktail party on Friday night. It's odd that after so many years, some people were instantly recognizable, while others seemed virtual strangers. Thank God for name tags. Classmates with distinct facial features were often most recognizable. The women with the good fortune to have inherited exceptional genes were recognizable, especially if they had stuck with a similar hairstyle or found a shade of hair dye that most matched their eighteen-year-old locks. With others, you tried to hide the furtive glance at the name tag, and then squeal like you'd just located a long-lost cousin. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrqRKcMaw4BkV3SLy-H29a7bUpIWasnFEjuELVLTVqa-XHi777WCBpxrOw0hsp19SvustQD18BlAYHsFo4rc269mxL1Kib3vsgCBdS7E-2nm6hzBFn3V7gkGx7iEo3pum20S85XY3cI8/s1600/583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrqRKcMaw4BkV3SLy-H29a7bUpIWasnFEjuELVLTVqa-XHi777WCBpxrOw0hsp19SvustQD18BlAYHsFo4rc269mxL1Kib3vsgCBdS7E-2nm6hzBFn3V7gkGx7iEo3pum20S85XY3cI8/s320/583.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
There were less of the "popular or nerd" cliques in the room as we circulated, careful to snatch a few snacks to minimize the impact of the wine. No one wanted to repeat the scenario of that dance (or two), where we had to duck into an alley or bathroom. We began to care much less about who held the most prestigious job, or rose the fastest on the corporate ladder. Pictures of grandchildren circulated, and we reveled in having survived the traumatic events of our youth. We were likewise relieved that we didn't have to keep the number of plates spinning in the air simultaneously that our own daughters and sons must. The world has changed. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9EzxvVC8BdDuHgEflCL2r_WQHSaBMK8sRpBEGmzgLeLSvEzBVE7wZ49GyXM2UlBNSsMsF9xfKI9VOv7SF6E6-B8O2KCNRJNcsBIXrLzmb7m5IdGCIhjOhQvLYZfW-TqYl1_Y_2eN3xOA/s1600/584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9EzxvVC8BdDuHgEflCL2r_WQHSaBMK8sRpBEGmzgLeLSvEzBVE7wZ49GyXM2UlBNSsMsF9xfKI9VOv7SF6E6-B8O2KCNRJNcsBIXrLzmb7m5IdGCIhjOhQvLYZfW-TqYl1_Y_2eN3xOA/s320/584.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
The second day, which included a luncheon at a local country club, was easier. We had braved the sometimes critical eyes of our classmates the night before - and this was particularly true for an all-girls' school. We relaxed, ate, drank, forming and reforming tight little groups, remembering the crazy things we did and said, the detentions, walking in silent, single file to and from each class, how strict some nuns were, how hilarious some others had been. We remarked on the excellence of our education and lamented how difficult it is to replicate today. We gathered for a group picture. One woman remarked that it was like 'herding cats', as we milled around, figuring out who was short vs. tall. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24FFBzoJiCwOxYD9lCul_3Q6URdNi__cJ1bE8KmPEEkRVv33Lc2i3LD5mX-zY_eHns_7dC4HzJj6NfyAt9JF45uBpnLLX9xLU3P-dB1C-yhipvh1_eVQH_EYWwCrMM4OqsJDB2aydYyk/s1600/576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24FFBzoJiCwOxYD9lCul_3Q6URdNi__cJ1bE8KmPEEkRVv33Lc2i3LD5mX-zY_eHns_7dC4HzJj6NfyAt9JF45uBpnLLX9xLU3P-dB1C-yhipvh1_eVQH_EYWwCrMM4OqsJDB2aydYyk/s320/576.JPG" width="126" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The next morning we gathered at our school. The surrounding area was declining when we attended and hasn't improved much since then . I thought of how the nuns would have been outside, sweeping up the litter that was cast down on the encircling sidewalk. Mass was held in our chapel, as the adjoining church was no longer Catholic. We strolled the multiple floors, up and down interminable steps and long hallways, making me regret having left my FitBit at home. I could have sent that sucker into the stratosphere. My feet could almost feel the saddle shoes that were a part of our uniform so long ago. The spirits of the nuns permeated the halls, all of them gone now, except for one last holdout who leaves next week. The upper floors - where the nuns lived - were eerily dark, and the rooms alternately empty or used for storage of old desks and assorted furniture. It had been converted from convent to infirmary as the number of the religious dwindled. We heard the echoes of our adolescent cheers in the old gym, the site of basketball games and St. Patty's Day festivals where we spun prize wheels and paid for chances to win insignificant prizes, all to raise money for 'the missions'. I still don't know what those missions were, but we willingly forked over our nickels for games and treats, paying to vote for a 'colleen' who ruled for a day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyq6U6nCTQVxNkPa9QUnK3B-rNLIKlW67Blhyphenhyphenur6fc4BUM-3mhY_bJsEoT95BRNMgWt2aZ6mVQJftttXD688MRtA17137AFSSOfPh-WExXHm7Qokb-kXhHGA0k_nYbLwFUS5-w6KWQXAs/s1600/554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyq6U6nCTQVxNkPa9QUnK3B-rNLIKlW67Blhyphenhyphenur6fc4BUM-3mhY_bJsEoT95BRNMgWt2aZ6mVQJftttXD688MRtA17137AFSSOfPh-WExXHm7Qokb-kXhHGA0k_nYbLwFUS5-w6KWQXAs/s320/554.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We laughingly recalled our Health classes with the school nurse, Miss Apicella. She was a short, Barbara Milkulsi-esque Italian nurse who taught what passed for Hygiene and Sex Ed in the Sixties.. The ghost of Miss Dietz rubbed our faces with tissues, searching for any trace of makeup. The School Sisters of Notre Dame knew that the use of cosmetics was a sure sign of a slut. The rows between our desks were patrolled regularly for evidence of roots showing on either side of our parted hair. If any were spied, you were not only a slut, but quite possibly a harlot. That raised the possibility that you might have been working nights at the Two O'clock club on Baltimore Street.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhH80PNj0ECq7njrG4DePSoMLibciko0_t8E5NvUUJxXRK1_Hy1RBCAA10qO2ERFiGS1Jgi8vxKuQjGFbRDDLYsbvkiNo1QSixYGdKC9XzHpvvti5ll-Y39w7QdSkcT8Fwt9EY6lXTDg/s1600/560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhH80PNj0ECq7njrG4DePSoMLibciko0_t8E5NvUUJxXRK1_Hy1RBCAA10qO2ERFiGS1Jgi8vxKuQjGFbRDDLYsbvkiNo1QSixYGdKC9XzHpvvti5ll-Y39w7QdSkcT8Fwt9EY6lXTDg/s320/560.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
As the reunion parties neared their end, any initial cattiness had dissolved. The charity, loyalty and kindness that the nuns had instilled in our souls had reurfaced. The random unfairness of life left numerous marks. Some had endured more than others: disease, death of a child or other family members, and other arrows of Fate had visited our circle of survivors. We looked past the wrinkles and extra pounds to see the young women we had been as well as the strong, accomplished women we had become. We mourned the dramatic drop in enrollment. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkZ4uJXsJ6peGkWIuSfuo2D2P8pC_2AXqGnYvX7WVHhVALSWe9lV3fDPM1s0D_bFxdmtctWvQjJP_WnOBb483Kelv8eqzZjcI2-Q4C-cFXY58piOPY-2I6FCd4HnfVs6IgV6_0VhJPhU/s1600/577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkZ4uJXsJ6peGkWIuSfuo2D2P8pC_2AXqGnYvX7WVHhVALSWe9lV3fDPM1s0D_bFxdmtctWvQjJP_WnOBb483Kelv8eqzZjcI2-Q4C-cFXY58piOPY-2I6FCd4HnfVs6IgV6_0VhJPhU/s320/577.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
There was a new type of room, filled with the history of our school, but too small for an institution that has stood since the 1840's. Our hope for the future is that this room will expand and encompass the stories and histories that are yet to be. The Institute of Notre Dame is a treasure that Baltimore should not let slip through its fingers. Hail to thee, alma mater. <br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-76266969292272174642016-07-21T07:41:00.000-07:002016-07-21T10:27:37.004-07:00What the heck is a NEAPOLITAN NOVEL and who is ELENA FERRANTE?When I first stumbled across a mention of Italian author Elena Ferrante,
I wondered what she had written to be crowned one of Italy's most
renowned novelists.<br />
<br />
I heartily agreed with an article in "The
Economist", which called her "the best contemporary novelist you've
never heard of."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQoTr9wlTvTUv8wJsnEQG2MsO6KCnTGCqJcNuLsWarMw31hcnjT8ocOQ-JMMiEDhTXXgdip8Bi3fX1yYIME3q4yJ5Whf9oUh8qMQ7antGWiDA54cxPaFndFFvj7Hnb_b4iS3Bg4T9Yno/s1600/Ferrante.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="amzn_view_checked" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQoTr9wlTvTUv8wJsnEQG2MsO6KCnTGCqJcNuLsWarMw31hcnjT8ocOQ-JMMiEDhTXXgdip8Bi3fX1yYIME3q4yJ5Whf9oUh8qMQ7antGWiDA54cxPaFndFFvj7Hnb_b4iS3Bg4T9Yno/s400/Ferrante.jpg" width="255" /></a>Her series of Neapolitan Novels begins with <i>My
Brilliant Friend</i>, the first in the multi-volume set. I was intrigued
as I have a deep love for Italy and its people. And, at the risk of sounding shallow, I liked the cover art.<br />
<br />
For
some reason, I have been ensnared by multi-volume novels of late (such
as <i>Outlander</i> and <i>Poldark</i>) so I decided to flip a coin. After all,
unlike the other two series, this one only has four books.<br />
<br />
Set in the
1950's near Naples, Italy, Ferrante tells the story of two young girls,
Lila and Elena. Translated from the original Italian, it was not an
easy book to read. Even the best of translators cannot precisely
duplicate the lilt and flow of the author's language. My grammatical
background did battle with the occasional run-on or incomplete
sentence. I had to force myself to chalk it up to artistic license. <br />
<br />
The
story is deeply personal, often violent, and I felt that Ferrante's
goal was to reach through the page and slap me, reminding me that this
was her story to tell, not necessarily one that I would love to hear.
As I moved through the first hundred pages, I was irritated by the
ever-shifting friendship of these girls as they matured. Yet I was
drawn back, wanting to know how they could possibly remain friends The
author captures the insecurities of girlhood in a male-dominated culture surrounded by grinding
poverty with the honesty of first-hand
experience. <br />
<br />
Though I fought valiantly to dislike this book, the
characters repeatedly sucked me back in with their raw, honest descriptiveness. I knew
I could walk down any poor street in Naples and run into each and every
one of them. Damn it, now I'm going to have to buy book two, <i>The Story of a New Name</i>. Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-78157879310678529512016-07-01T14:28:00.000-07:002016-07-01T14:28:19.637-07:00EAT THIS, NOT ANYTHING GOOD <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFj3d3wa3Gzd0rlScNpcxvDy3v7gfEyYlzMgXgoByUAb-IhEMpzJDQzsLkIOZmz0S7sFs63PmsobRs61ZYl__9AKdWKn5Lq0Id9ty5D-XWzJnOtytYlpOIK9disfWvlk5UQSOKzLJ-0Q/s1600/diet+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFj3d3wa3Gzd0rlScNpcxvDy3v7gfEyYlzMgXgoByUAb-IhEMpzJDQzsLkIOZmz0S7sFs63PmsobRs61ZYl__9AKdWKn5Lq0Id9ty5D-XWzJnOtytYlpOIK9disfWvlk5UQSOKzLJ-0Q/s320/diet+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
Ever since going through chemotherapy, when I began to eat to comfort myself, my weight has been on a slow, upward spiral. Once or twice I've managed to drop ten or twenty pounds with exercise and kind-of-dieting, but decades of bad habits have always managed to sabotage my efforts. When I recently went through my closet to get rid of outdated clothing, only the "fat clothes" remained, and they were getting pretty ratty-looking since I've worn them over and over for years. Any shopping trips have ended in dressing room tears and a bowl of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream as soon as I got home. I'm hoping this time will be different. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRDmTlhbPYdQu0nr1PYusU_Bg9arRpMyEeC-3_1BfVjrL-7dMN_Gkm2h2CL9u953q8qXd6rs53J5aWSHktqSmZz9hJMTEqnJw_QwNLt5MRfSCbGY-QwuK4QzUzs0gxoMlk2Wh1T9WG64/s1600/diet+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRDmTlhbPYdQu0nr1PYusU_Bg9arRpMyEeC-3_1BfVjrL-7dMN_Gkm2h2CL9u953q8qXd6rs53J5aWSHktqSmZz9hJMTEqnJw_QwNLt5MRfSCbGY-QwuK4QzUzs0gxoMlk2Wh1T9WG64/s320/diet+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Denial is a convenient state. You close your eyes when photographs of you with your grandchildren appear. The only time you weigh in is on a doctor's visit. You avoid joining old friends who aren't overweight too. You wear shorts and a top to the beach rather than the embarrassment of a bathing suit. Notice that I've used "you" instead of "I" in my denial. Life gets lonely, which leads to more food comfort.<br />
<br />
And then comes the 50th high school reunion. The initial reaction is to let it just slide by quietly. No one will notice my absence, right? Maybe not, but this may be the last chance in my lifetime to see these old friends. What to do? Show up and hope everyone else is fat too? Hope that the snarky whispers of long-ago won't happen like they always did at an all-girls school? After all, how much weight can I lose in ten weeks? <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1AoRq_vNchP0MsUEpBNPGYHkk8e1p6DaihD7JUNSWzShKcqbBe24XVgwO3E6lPeRVxALyHtMUCRosedCiuK8dKpIlkeUihok-hSxrVD9MWjtiZ9AeZmRJvsYcDy8_Y4M8pSVuj1aHGvA/s1600/diet+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1AoRq_vNchP0MsUEpBNPGYHkk8e1p6DaihD7JUNSWzShKcqbBe24XVgwO3E6lPeRVxALyHtMUCRosedCiuK8dKpIlkeUihok-hSxrVD9MWjtiZ9AeZmRJvsYcDy8_Y4M8pSVuj1aHGvA/s320/diet+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
About two weeks ago, I pulled out my old Weight Watchers points program materials. It really does work well. Slowly, but well. The hardest part for me is drinking water. You'd think it would be giving up ice cream, processed crunchy snacks, and the other high-sugar things I've been lulled into thinking were just normal. I can't remember ever seeing my parents drink water while I was growing up. It was always iced tea or lemonade, both heavily laced with sugar and lemon during warm weather or coffee in the winter. Now I've managed to put down 16 ounces a day...not the recommended 32-64, but it's progress. <br />
<br />
The next part will be to get moving. It may not be much in the beginning, walking one or two miles several times each week, but I learned long ago that I am a creature of habit, good or bad. One of the most embarrassing things is that I used to teach exercise classes. I used to run 5 days a week. I used to play raquetball often. Then the stressors began to accumulate: divorce, cancer, having to reinvent my former housewife self into a career woman with classes to advance more quickly. Then the kids began to peel off, becoming adults, getting married, having children and moving away. I had to learn how to live alone, and it wasn't easy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFws9DxTA5ihjKpYiaLgp1pfTMRkDbGk_H_MSDCMmNFKY7HwXPTa8tvesr4jYR5tDxA6TCUEfg5Kaq8rTjDQBmtiTXruv6eR1q_0v4wxVj8CNkM_crywNbnbWBvyCqZJjc4DM6jMYpYg/s1600/diet+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFws9DxTA5ihjKpYiaLgp1pfTMRkDbGk_H_MSDCMmNFKY7HwXPTa8tvesr4jYR5tDxA6TCUEfg5Kaq8rTjDQBmtiTXruv6eR1q_0v4wxVj8CNkM_crywNbnbWBvyCqZJjc4DM6jMYpYg/s320/diet+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So, I won't tell you my starting weight or my goal weight....not until I'm finished and proud of it. I will say that I've dropped 7 pounds in the last two weeks purely from willpower. When I reach ten, I'll reward myself with something for that and for every ensuing five pounds. I need to tie more than a carrot on my stick. Wish me luck. I'll need it. Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-8802872120116679442016-04-06T13:33:00.000-07:002016-04-06T13:33:34.724-07:00"THE BOYS IN THE BOAT"...A review*****Please note that this review appeared previously in the blog "Girl Who Reads"*****<br />
<br />
I
rarely read non-fiction, and I've never rowed. I can count on one hand
the number of crew races I've watched on television in my lifetime.
The books I choose to read are based on suggestions from a trusted
circle of friends, and they are invariably fiction. So, whatever possessed me to buy this book?
<br />
<br />
A
friend outside my reading circle raved about it on Facebook, so I
decided to look it up. I'd never heard of it and was knee-deep in my
third re-reading of the Outlander books in preparation for the start of
its second season in April. Olympic rowers were not on my radar
screen. Yet when I checked on Amazon, there were over 17,000 reviews,
and 81% were five stars. The other 19% were four stars. My interest
was piqued. How could so many people love a book that sounded kind of
ho-hum to me? I still had some money left on a holiday gift
certificate, so that made it a little less painful to take a chance and
check it out.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LZ7oZs-ikXhEkzc6bPJn3dqTwZY2E-hNwzNn8zCQvPRYQ9I-3452QJP3L2A-ozBsdmm0v496C1LCI8jMnhWyTCHPiBjUtrKHNOWCyBCAS1hizQaPZKAOD92zNoWZAKhVTF3XNPzAhbA/s1600/the+boys+in+the+boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LZ7oZs-ikXhEkzc6bPJn3dqTwZY2E-hNwzNn8zCQvPRYQ9I-3452QJP3L2A-ozBsdmm0v496C1LCI8jMnhWyTCHPiBjUtrKHNOWCyBCAS1hizQaPZKAOD92zNoWZAKhVTF3XNPzAhbA/s1600/the+boys+in+the+boat.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Yowza...I'm glad I did.<br />
<br />
The
sport of crew (rowing) is, for the most part, Eastern elitist. What
kind of chance did Depression-era young men have in the Seattle,
Washington area? I wondered if I were in for a deadly dull read about
Rowing Rocky-types. Yet author Daniel James Brown knows how to weave
everyday details and historical timelines into a magic carpet ride of
hope, determination, team bonds and glorious triumph. The magical
alignment at that point in the 1930's of British boatmaker George
Pocock, the brilliant University of Washington coach Al Ulbrickson, and
an unlikely group of young men from economically-devastated America is
nothing short of historical lightning. <br />
<br />
The story
centers on Joe Rantz, a boy who had been abandoned by his family, but
survived through his wits and ability to endure a daily amount of hard
labor that would have crushed a lesser spirit. Thrown together as
freshmen, the assortment of young men from dairy farms and lumber mills
soon coalesced into a very special crew. As they learned to submit
to the harsh master that is team rowing, they ascended to a level of
excellence that allowed them to represent the United States triumphantly
at the infamous 1936 Olympics, otherwise known as Adolph Hitler's plan
to showcase German superiority. <br />
<br />
Author Brown's
ability to tell the story by blending descriptive detail and the
euphoric memories of a dying Rantz make this an extraordinary tale that
will enchant and inspire readers for years to come.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, Kathleen Barker attended
Catholic elementary and high schools before graduating with a B.A. in
English and Education from Towson University. She also attended Tulane
University in New Orleans, Louisiana. After 20 years as the
widely-traveled wife of a U.S. Navy pilot and mother of three, Ms.
Barker worked in New Orleans, LA for a Forbes 500 company until just
before Hurricane Katrina. During her tenure there she wrote multiple
feature articles for the company magazine, and received the Field
Reporter of the Year Award. She returned to her beloved home state of
Maryland in 2006, where she still resides. Her published works include
"Ednor Scardens", "The Body War", "The Hurting Year" and "On Gabriel's
Wings". Barker maintains a blog, "Dashboard Confessions of an
Undisciplined Mind" at <a href="http://kateinla51.blogspot.com/">http://kateinla51.blogspot.com/</a>
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-42226802864622503612016-02-20T06:33:00.000-08:002016-02-20T06:33:06.484-08:00"The Summer of Letting Go" by Gae Polisner - A Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifyFQKRXpm793NA5UHSltiQJbA44bpy8uHqDKYQmgCFuACgs0T1xReZCXkQQNrTI1xBho6RpF6OFBzQqFEThAOgjeDp4WRsTrsJYWoAzvoPpoqq1-bjoWfXn8vjp80lxURIaY5gJ6aRxU/s1600/polisner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifyFQKRXpm793NA5UHSltiQJbA44bpy8uHqDKYQmgCFuACgs0T1xReZCXkQQNrTI1xBho6RpF6OFBzQqFEThAOgjeDp4WRsTrsJYWoAzvoPpoqq1-bjoWfXn8vjp80lxURIaY5gJ6aRxU/s320/polisner.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Navigating the murky waters of adolescence is difficult enough, but when
your little brother drowns on your watch, your best friend transmutes
into someone else's girlfriend and your father appears to be having an
affair with a neighbor...<br />
<br />
Life for Frankie (Francesca) Schnell is spinning out of control.
Choking on the guilt of her brother Simon's death, she feels invisible.
Her mother's grief drives her to devote her time to a drowning
prevention foundation, while Frankie's best friend has acquired a
swoon-worthy boyfriend. An unexpected summer job offer lands her face to
face with a little boy who is the same age as Simon was before he died,
a boy who unnervingly resembles him and says things that shake Frankie
to her core. Is she losing her mind, or is this boy a reincarnation of
Simon?<br />
<br />
Her father's friendship with a pretty neighbor across the street from
her house begins to make Frankie suspicious. And when her best friend
goes out of town, she finds her self the knee-quaking object of her
absent-friend's boyfriend. Should she stay true to her best friend and
resist or give in to his spectacular kiss? Should she confront someone
about her father's perceived infidelity? Confront who...her father, the
neighbor, her mother? <br />
<br />
As much as I loved her previous book, <i>The Pull of Gravity</i>, author Gae Polisner scores a home run with <i>The Summer of Letting Go</i>
as she lovingly peels back the layers of a young teen's fears and
vulnerabilities. Polisner allows Frankie to work through her multiple
dilemmas without resorting to an unrealistic sitcom resolution. As in
real life, not every question is answered.<br />
<br />
I read this book to screen it before gifting to my granddaughter, but
found myself falling in love with the characters as well. Polisner's
understanding of the fragile young heart and mind is a gift that
resonates, weaving a bond between the reader and the characters she has
so lovingly created. <br />
<br />
<br />
****This review appeared previously in "Girl Who Reads", a book review blog. Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-31793071430167617882016-02-03T14:57:00.000-08:002016-02-03T14:57:24.822-08:00IF IT'S WINTER, IT MUST BE CORNWALL<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEta3DuWdC-wpqKOOrq-MQg8XSLGDbAhZ5f4QkDvt1hsTf634DoRNtbfl6RLXWywVoa1mdsbODMmjlNGmUKFeaYv20wVmo_98VE5Yhn-d03nQ8yxfrb_XNiaXBMW0rZqc1v4w83NJuNFo/s1600/poldark+from+amazon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEta3DuWdC-wpqKOOrq-MQg8XSLGDbAhZ5f4QkDvt1hsTf634DoRNtbfl6RLXWywVoa1mdsbODMmjlNGmUKFeaYv20wVmo_98VE5Yhn-d03nQ8yxfrb_XNiaXBMW0rZqc1v4w83NJuNFo/s320/poldark+from+amazon.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
If you are like most people, you watch more television during the
cold, winter months. That was me, too, until the arrival of a streaming
box. You are scratching your head now, wondering why I would not watch
even MORE television with this commercial-free viewing device. I
did…at first. I cannot diminish the joy of snuggling under a down throw
and binge-watching shows I’d postponed or just plain missed. Two
series were so addictive that I wound up reading the books (more than
once) as only a single season had been filmed. First was the Starz
channel adaptation of Diana Gabaldon’s “Outlander” and the second was
Masterpiece Theater’s “Poldark”.<br />
<br />
My viewing of the “Poldark” series was completely by accident. I was
depressed by the long wait for the next season of “Outlander”, which is
supposed to resume in March 2016, and had already read the
approximately 10,000 pages of the books. Slowly, the story of the
British soldier returning from America to his neglected, inherited
property in Cornwall began to grow on me. By the time I finished the
televised series, I found myself in a similar state of mind as
post-Outlander before discovering that the Masterpiece series was based
on actual books.<br />
<br />
Quickly doing a google search, I found that Winston Graham had
written a slew of novels – 32 in addition to the Poldark books (of which
there are 12). They have opened a new world to me: the world of 18th
century Cornwall with all the mountains and valleys of human existence
in this mixture of society. The first of the series was written in the
1940’s and more than once has been the subject of a television series.
The BBC broadcast an adaptation of the first seven books back in the
1970’s. I haven’t watched the older series, as I don’t want to lose my
identification of Aiden Turner as Ross Poldark. Author Graham also
wrote “Marnie”, which was made into an Alfred Hitchcock motion picture
in addition to a Nazi spy thriller and a history of the Spanish Armadas.<br />
If you want to try one of this prolific author’s works, they include the following:<br />
<ul>
<li>1945 – <i>Ross Poldark</i> (original U.S. title: <i>The Renegade</i>)</li>
<li>1946 – <i>Demelza</i></li>
<li>1950 – <i>Jeremy Poldark</i> (original U.S. title: <i>Venture Once More</i>)</li>
<li>1953 – <i>Warleggan</i> (original U.S. title: <i>The Last Gamble</i>)</li>
<li>1973 – <i>The Black Moon</i></li>
<li>1976 – <i>The Four Swans</i></li>
<li>1977 – <i>The Angry Tide</i></li>
<li>1981 – <i>The Stranger from the Sea</i></li>
<li>1983 – <i>Poldark’s Cornwall</i> (non-fiction)</li>
<li>1982 – <i>The Miller’s Dance</i></li>
<li>1984 – <i>The Loving Cup</i></li>
<li>1990 – <i>The Twisted Sword</i></li>
<li>2002 – <i>Bella Poldark</i></li>
</ul>
<h3>
<span class="mw-headline" id="Other_works">Other works</span></h3>
<ul>
<li>1934 – <i>The House with the Stained Glass Windows</i></li>
<li>1935 – <i>Into the Fog</i></li>
<li>1935 – <i>The Riddle of John Rowe</i></li>
<li>1936 – <i>Without Motive</i></li>
<li>1937 – <i>The Dangerous Pawn</i></li>
<li>1938 – <i>The Giant’s Chair</i> (revised edition, 1975, as <i>Woman in the Mirror</i>)</li>
<li>1939 – <i>Keys of Chance</i></li>
<li>1939 – <i>Strangers Meeting</i></li>
<li>1940 – <i>No Exit</i></li>
<li>1941 – <i>Night Journey</i> (revised edition, 1966)</li>
<li>1942 – <i>My Turn Next</i> (revised edition, 1988, as <i>Cameo</i>)</li>
<li>1944 – <i>The Merciless Ladies</i> (revised edition, 1979)</li>
<li>1945 – <i>The Forgotten Story</i></li>
<li>1947 – <i>Take My Life</i></li>
<li>1949 – <i>Cordelia</i></li>
<li>1950 – <i>Night Without Stars</i></li>
<li>1953 – <i>Fortune Is a Woman</i></li>
<li>1955 – <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Little_Walls" title="The Little Walls">The Little Walls</a></i> (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gold_Dagger" title="Gold Dagger">Gold Dagger</a> Award)</li>
<li>1956 – <i>The Sleeping Partner</i> (filmed as <i>Sócio de Alcova</i> / <i>Carnival of Crime</i>)</li>
<li>1957 – <i>Greek Fire</i></li>
<li>1959 – <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tumbled_House" title="The Tumbled House">The Tumbled House</a></i></li>
<li>1961 – <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marnie" title="Marnie">Marnie</a></i></li>
<li>1963 – <i>The Grove of Eagles</i></li>
<li>1965 – <i>After the Act</i></li>
<li>1967 – <i>The Walking Stick</i></li>
<li>1970 – <i>Angel, Pearl and Little God</i></li>
<li>1971 – <i>The Japanese Girl</i> (short stories)</li>
<li>1972 – <i>The Spanish Armadas</i> (non-fiction)</li>
<li>1986 – <i>The Green Flash</i></li>
<li>1992 – <i>Stephanie</i></li>
<li>1995 – <i>Tremor</i></li>
<li>1998 – <i>The Ugly Sister</i></li>
<li>2003 – <i>Memoirs of a Private Man</i> (autobiography)</li>
</ul>
<br />
<a href="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/kate-barker-headshot.jpg" rel="attachment wp-att-2020"><img alt="kate barker headshot" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-2020" src="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/kate-barker-headshot.jpg" width="114" /></a><br />
Kathleen Barker is the author of“The Charm City Chronicles” which include the following:<br />
<br />
“Ednor Scardens”
http://www.amazon.com/Ednor-Scardens-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B008BODK0E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1454536041&sr=8-1&keywords=ednor+scardens<br />
<br />
“The Body War”
http://www.amazon.com/Body-Charm-City-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/B008D983ZY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1454536168&sr=8-1&keywords=the+body+war+by+kathleen+barker<br />
<br />
“The Hurting Year”
http://www.amazon.com/Hurting-Year-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00CR8K8T6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1454536228&sr=8-1&keywords=the+hurting+year+by+kathleen+barker'<br />
<br />
“On Gabriel’s Wings”
http://www.amazon.com/Gabriels-Wings-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00EG5VK54/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1454536276&sr=8-1&keywords=on+gabriel%27s+wings+by+kathleen+barker<br />
<br />
Barker also is a contributor to "Girl Who Reads" and Myrddin Publishing.<br />
<br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-90572398156425367962015-12-28T10:16:00.000-08:002016-02-23T10:01:53.705-08:00A True Baltimore Superhero<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EODmhwwgZb5sQ5JJoIOr4eZtULyym3Ydp_Kng5mC9ZewhUaWZyuebDbZWzp-aT0ZgRwqeIfhsSSIJ8qwehw6D6PVii-GzGtvxjxOi7V0WFyPMtJJYi60qBxhzQmqgsv96DAQ2kEnoUU/s1600/barbara+mikulski+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EODmhwwgZb5sQ5JJoIOr4eZtULyym3Ydp_Kng5mC9ZewhUaWZyuebDbZWzp-aT0ZgRwqeIfhsSSIJ8qwehw6D6PVii-GzGtvxjxOi7V0WFyPMtJJYi60qBxhzQmqgsv96DAQ2kEnoUU/s1600/barbara+mikulski+2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
When it comes to politicians, especially career politicians, I have little use for them. Most are best at keeping power in order to feed at the public trough for a lifetime, sharing little of the average citizen's struggles. My favorite has always been former Mayor of Baltimore, William Donald Schaefer, who served the citizens of B-town for more than 50 years at both the state and local level. He loved the city of Baltimore and the State of Maryland with a passion that you either cheered or booed, but his efforts on behalf of the everyday Joe made him a perennial favorite to voters.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2AbDmtx2uv0Tr7e6OCsi-AHSm0X_jxikSrpgulkhs971oRx0mI00Zu2wDZ1crPHMHYFbwFmHKjijoqkG8TASwkfSdjKHtB5lR282R2M7phlQKPGCyo0VZuHMbvG206MSmKfwmtbVIl4/s1600/shaefer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2AbDmtx2uv0Tr7e6OCsi-AHSm0X_jxikSrpgulkhs971oRx0mI00Zu2wDZ1crPHMHYFbwFmHKjijoqkG8TASwkfSdjKHtB5lR282R2M7phlQKPGCyo0VZuHMbvG206MSmKfwmtbVIl4/s1600/shaefer.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Yet another is about to join him on the pedestal of honorees - Senator Barbara Mikulski, a small (4'11") yet ferocious woman who has made her way into the history books<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCCXP-sOR8yGDPzCZZze8grOtrrT2b3Lq3Xai45byq2KiziHkyQ8INjJRlSpLyJAFVkoONLY3jRxA3-ZfHHPGygMxgJ7z_yDjNmSx3IivshfaJW9XMA-S_u7SuIiPSv5fTeQGnBipRP0/s1600/barbara+mikulski+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCCXP-sOR8yGDPzCZZze8grOtrrT2b3Lq3Xai45byq2KiziHkyQ8INjJRlSpLyJAFVkoONLY3jRxA3-ZfHHPGygMxgJ7z_yDjNmSx3IivshfaJW9XMA-S_u7SuIiPSv5fTeQGnBipRP0/s1600/barbara+mikulski+4.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The daughter of a Highlandtown grocer, Mikulski's ear-to-the-ground talent and megaphone mouth gave her grassroots appeal when she blasted onto the scene in the 1960's. A social worker who was also a community activist, she led the opposition to paving over a giant swath of downtown Baltimore for an interstate highway. Buoyed by her success, she ran for and was elected to the Baltimore City Council at age 35. She beat formidable odds to become the first Democratic woman elected to the Senate in 1986.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVir0E75NCW8BRPLQmWvM7qqIMGJ6Xf_PacoHv9LP-j3RZlLNHOiaGdO6M7Sn-5mMQlROjxfJaLioTS6mYMDI831VXZhBMfV9TGetm0g1OHoVw3ebObc-O3R-bo1rZproJCb56gBVAtKY/s1600/barbara+mikulski+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVir0E75NCW8BRPLQmWvM7qqIMGJ6Xf_PacoHv9LP-j3RZlLNHOiaGdO6M7Sn-5mMQlROjxfJaLioTS6mYMDI831VXZhBMfV9TGetm0g1OHoVw3ebObc-O3R-bo1rZproJCb56gBVAtKY/s320/barbara+mikulski+6.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The Fair Pay Act for women would never have made it to President Obama's desk without her. Mikulski is the longest-serving woman in the U.S. Congress as well as the first woman to chair the House Appropriations Committee. <br />
<br />
For all of the groundbreaking factoids, she is my hero for a most important reason: she comes from an era when politicians actually did things for the people who voted them into office. <br />
<br />
I love that she is a graduate of my alma mater, the Institute of Notre Dame. I love her bulldog-like ability to get things done. If it's beginning to sound like I'm just another Democratic drum-beater, I am not. I don't even belong to the Democratic Party. However, I am an ardent supporter of anyone in office who remembers who she represents. Mikulski's ex-staff members are strewn about the state in legendary numbers because they failed to live up to her standards of service to the public. So powerful that Presidents fear getting on her "wrong side", she is the rare exception to the political hacks who are elected with huge PAC funds and corporate contributions. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEZIFdID__QRVfI61TflY1hT2Mtv42UsisyAfAqVUgYeFKABWA9h_ua0Ms2j_amPuxpG91T3Vg0OfQAJxBjIc8RSkZHeZj34bIuTELsTNp0BFpz3QLL7jTs3uzPAAgPukRK1XsxoRP-o/s1600/barbara+miluski+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEZIFdID__QRVfI61TflY1hT2Mtv42UsisyAfAqVUgYeFKABWA9h_ua0Ms2j_amPuxpG91T3Vg0OfQAJxBjIc8RSkZHeZj34bIuTELsTNp0BFpz3QLL7jTs3uzPAAgPukRK1XsxoRP-o/s1600/barbara+miluski+1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
At 79 years of age, she is not seeking re-election despite the fact that she would surely win again. I don't begrudge her a more restful lifestyle, but I will miss her tenacious drive and ability to represent the common people of this state as well as showing women everywhere what one small, but loud voice can accomplish. <br />
<br />
Thank you, Barbara, for all you have done. The City of Baltimore, the State of Maryland and the United States of America will miss you. Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-50089184140903248492015-11-10T19:25:00.001-08:002015-11-10T19:25:47.769-08:00TO SLEEP, PERCHANCE TO DREAM<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">Moving to a new home presents multiple do-over opportunities: a chance to purge enough junk to pretend you're not a hoarder, a chance to change your decor from forty-year-old traditional mahogany pieces that cost a fortune to Ikea (since your old furniture didn't fetch much on craigslist), and a chance to simplify, since you're only taking what fits in your Prius.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YZYKGkvfsS0IePuVSD6TMxnuu07GLRARhxj-Vsctx-I2_lB_HYY43vKKm-CvzWzTumHHqFdwpeiy_rxfpaZuQnMo919CgvNt-ZPceUqNVNLInL4S5GMyP1_dKxVkZL15PwucmWTBaRQ/s1600/lego-bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YZYKGkvfsS0IePuVSD6TMxnuu07GLRARhxj-Vsctx-I2_lB_HYY43vKKm-CvzWzTumHHqFdwpeiy_rxfpaZuQnMo919CgvNt-ZPceUqNVNLInL4S5GMyP1_dKxVkZL15PwucmWTBaRQ/s320/lego-bed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">I'm doing all of the above, plus getting a new mattress. since I don't remember when I bought the last one. An intriguing piece on the internet caught my eye, about a start-up in Los Angeles called Casper with a novel approach to the totally boring process of mattress shopping. I know what kind of mattress I want.....a Tempurpedic.....but I just can't bring myself to spend 3 or 4K on a freaking mattress. Yes, I know, we spend a third of our lives in bed...with the exception of prostitutes, but that's a different story......but two-thirds of my life is over, so I discount that statistic.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52FABShxzg40lkG26iLcQJkACQPJ5MxIHcjuVZci-hLnoco0eRRTNq2Ib_22AvSyH0BlApijcusUdyQG-wFYN56k_hPVWg7EhybF7CWeOweRih019UG9gm6wK9AD15R8NUXLNCmp00I4/s1600/casper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52FABShxzg40lkG26iLcQJkACQPJ5MxIHcjuVZci-hLnoco0eRRTNq2Ib_22AvSyH0BlApijcusUdyQG-wFYN56k_hPVWg7EhybF7CWeOweRih019UG9gm6wK9AD15R8NUXLNCmp00I4/s320/casper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">Casper will ship me a memory foam and latex mattress rolled up in a box for about 25 percent of the cost of the Tempurpedic, let me sleep on it for 100 nights, and if I don't like it, they will come pick it up and refund 100% of my money to boot. I like that, but I still want to have some idea what it feels like. </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">There aren't many places to test drive a Casper, but since I was in Los Angeles - their corporate home - for a few days, I decided to do just that. My youngest daughter and I took the 4-year-old and the 10-month-old to Griffith Park to ride the ponies and visit the trains at Traveltown. Trusting Waze to help us find the Casper showroom, we drove up the steep, narrow streets of the Hollywood Hills and wondered what kind of business could be located in this affluent, residential area. A home with a big "C" on the front door and a Casper shipping box on the sidewalk came into view. We looked at each other, wondering about the safety of entering a private home and asking to try out the bed. She stayed in the car with the kids while I ventured inside. </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">The living area's walls were all glass, affording an expansive, scenic view, like a Hollywood home in the hills should. Four people sat at a table with desktop computers, answering customer calls. A twenty-something with impossibly white teeth and blonde hair asked if I had an appointment. An appointment? To lie on a matteress??</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsT2PDu0OJlCqg_56pLVL7sC-0csN6UQx0iEP4N5v4rUPgQaHqiZOTXoRj-k0eTB1T_xFwVOMgT1yf6ky9LgPH3CAPYct0Mjv0GqS7wb9zqy0ZcbOx2ah33STKyShnybpRVBHDKGvZsPg/s1600/vomit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsT2PDu0OJlCqg_56pLVL7sC-0csN6UQx0iEP4N5v4rUPgQaHqiZOTXoRj-k0eTB1T_xFwVOMgT1yf6ky9LgPH3CAPYct0Mjv0GqS7wb9zqy0ZcbOx2ah33STKyShnybpRVBHDKGvZsPg/s1600/vomit.jpg" /></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">It must have been a slow day, as she checked her tablet and saw they had an opening, so I was admitted to a bedroom with an equally gorgeous view and given a clean pillow. I mentioned my waiting family and the blonde with the blinding smile lured them inside with promises of water and juice. The four-year-old propelled herself onto the bed and the ten-month-old spied an opportunity to nurse before vomiting copiously on the clean carpet. She spent a few minutes gazing out the window while the other one pushed Trader Joe's rocket-shaped cheddar crackers into the vertical fan. I shut my eyes and tried to decide how the mattress felt while calculating how long it would take to get home in L.A.traffic. Would the wiser course be to hunker down at Magnolia Bakery until rush hour was over? </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfaq0ROs4s3_EVHoAnfrKaxS5A5W3spsntYNiHiVzlUn5NZwJR4b4-bSlvSFnmwfXO1uQ_hy5eNxIjsNcUsIqSjCgOsvTBqLdv12eMYA5iNmneqtt88KIMSvT3zB_OiZv7OI12gLjz5Z0/s1600/vomit+on+bib.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfaq0ROs4s3_EVHoAnfrKaxS5A5W3spsntYNiHiVzlUn5NZwJR4b4-bSlvSFnmwfXO1uQ_hy5eNxIjsNcUsIqSjCgOsvTBqLdv12eMYA5iNmneqtt88KIMSvT3zB_OiZv7OI12gLjz5Z0/s1600/vomit+on+bib.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">I remain undecided. I still prefer the Tempurpedic experience, but keep coming back to the Casper price. At least I have 100 vomit-free nights to see if I want to keep it.</span>Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-55011475207416538522015-10-15T19:31:00.000-07:002015-10-15T19:31:27.680-07:00DIRTY NANA<a href="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/sybil.jpg"><img alt="sybil" class="wp-image-1842 aligncenter" src="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/sybil.jpg" width="193" /></a><br />
Lately I’ve felt a bit like Sally Field’s character in the 1976
book-based movie, “Sybil”, which is the story of Shirley Ardell Mason,
who suffered from dissociative identity disorder (more commonly known as
multiple personality disorder). No, I’m not breaking apart from
long-suppressed psychological trauma, but contemplating the different
faces that all of us present to others. <a href="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/saint1.jpg"><img alt="saint1" class="size-medium wp-image-1839 aligncenter" src="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/saint1-285x300.jpg" width="285" /></a><br />
As a young parent, life requires us to exhibit a persona of infinite
patience, boundless energy and determination. I alternately portrayed a
saint, a teacher, and the embodiment of love and comfort during that
time. Once the kids grew older and ventured out of the house, I could
finally unleash my inner demon who uttered the “f-word” and the like
with abandon. My halo continued to tarnish when they learned what
physical act was required to create a baby. As one of my daughters put
it, “Ewwwwww, you and dad did that THREE times?????” to produce her and
her two siblings. <a href="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/making-out.jpg"><img alt="making out" class="size-medium wp-image-1841 aligncenter" src="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/making-out-300x234.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
I’m thankful that my grandchildren are still too young to peruse my
Facebook page or read one of the four books I’ve written (“Ednor
Scardens”, “The Body War”, “The Hurting Year”, “On Gabriel’s Wings”).
To my adult children, I’m still supposed to possess infinite patience,
wisdom and other saintly qualities, but the years have taken their
toll. My filter is wearing ever thinner.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/grumpy-woman.jpg"><img alt="grumpy woman" class="alignnone wp-image-1840 alignleft" src="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/grumpy-woman-238x300.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
“Tell It Like It Is” was a popular song
(sung by Aaron Neville) and became a 1960’s catch-phrase, but I still
hold back from saying what I really think about people and their
choices, ideas, situations, etc. to avoid hurt feelings, but I know the
day will come when I’ll be just like my mom by the time she landed in
assisted living. No matter how often I visited or what I brought to
please her, she still seemed unable to understand why I no longer had
the figure I had in my twenties. Anytime I bent over to retrieve
something on the floor, she would sigh and comment, “You have GOT to get
rid of that ass!” Depending on her condition, I never knew which of
Sybil’s personalities I’d be visiting that day. Mom passed away a few
years ago, and my turn will</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
come eventually.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Now that I think about it, that might not be so bad. It could be the basis for my next book!<br />
<br />
<br />
Kathleen Barker’s books and personal blog can be found at:<br />
http://www.amazon.com/Ednor-Scardens-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B008BODK0E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1444177488&sr=8-1&keywords=Ednor+Scardens<br />
http://www.amazon.com/Body-Charm-City-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/B008D983ZY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1444177571&sr=8-1&keywords=the+body+war+by+kathleen+barker<br />
http://www.amazon.com/Hurting-Year-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00CR8K8T6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1444177619&sr=8-1&keywords=the+hurting+year+by+kathleen+barker<br />
http://www.amazon.com/Gabriels-Wings-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00EG5VK54/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1444177657&sr=8-1&keywords=on+gabriel%27s+wings+by+kathleen+barker<br />
http://kateinla51.blogspot.com/<a href="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/my-pics-071.jpg"><img alt="my pics 071" class="size-medium wp-image-1843 aligncenter" src="http://www.myrddinpublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/my-pics-071-262x300.jpg" width="262" /></a>Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-80331678892578109362015-08-08T08:46:00.000-07:002015-08-08T08:46:30.645-07:00READ, CLEAN, WRITE, REPEAT<h3 class="post-title entry-title">
</h3>
<div class="post-header">
</div>
<b>***Please note that this article previously appeared as my contribution to the Girl Who Reads blog****</b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Most authors I know are also voracious readers. We love beautifully
crafted words that paint rich tapestries. Yet life intrudes, in the
form of jobs, families, and the day-to-day minutia that consumes us,
leaving little time for us to pursue our own writing much less enjoy
that of others.<br />
<br />
I tend to get involved in books that are series, most recently Diana Gabaldon's <i>Outlander </i>(2004, Dell, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000FC2L1O/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000FC2L1O&linkCode=as2&tag=giwhre05-20&linkId=YXKTGJT36B3HUZWU" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Amazon</a>).
After devouring roughly ten thousand pages, I felt lost when the most
recent book ended. Stories on a grand scale are what I want most, and
my next reading project is Winston Graham's <i>Poldark </i>(2009, Sourcebooks Landmark, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B003D8V7DK/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B003D8V7DK&linkCode=as2&tag=giwhre05-20&linkId=ZF26UVA5UKG56H4O" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Amazon</a>). I'll let you know when I resurface from the complete 12-book narrative. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="left">
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="The Life-changing Magic of Tidying Up" class="amzn_view_checked" height="320" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1418767178l/22318578.jpg" width="223" /></div>
</div>
Needing a short fix while waiting for the Amazon Stork to Prime-drop <i>Poldark</i>, I discovered an unlikely candidate: Marie Kondo's <i>The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing </i>(2014, Ten Speed Press, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00KK0PICK/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00KK0PICK&linkCode=as2&tag=giwhre05-20&linkId=ATYWMOJCTPZD5WEW" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Amazon</a>).
How on earth could a cleaning book make the New York Times' best
seller list? Why would anyone want to spend more time than necessary on
cleaning, much less read about how someone else does? There had to be a
reason.<br />
<br />
I have not finished testing her methods yet, but Kondo's weird little
ideas are resonating with readers who have adopted her mantra that the
things you own must give you happiness. If they don't, you should get
rid of them. As I begin my journey of shedding decades of accumulated
"stuff", I find myself happier. Gone are the categories of clothing
that were jammed in my closet...the fat clothing, the perfect size
clothing (which is never quite achieved), and the sentimental items that
haven't been worn since college. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0SUjo0yfjUnI9qUPBkyebB14BDQTLE63RYV9yGHZnGyXoubO2tO_47LY2vjC6ckCCQguYlsDwwTaFRN1324P0FSkrTAXf6o1YJz1uY4RIuTzG8FlUm_dshSEbYGfmC1lIVnHYz7YAIs/s1600/poldark.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="amzn_view_checked" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0SUjo0yfjUnI9qUPBkyebB14BDQTLE63RYV9yGHZnGyXoubO2tO_47LY2vjC6ckCCQguYlsDwwTaFRN1324P0FSkrTAXf6o1YJz1uY4RIuTzG8FlUm_dshSEbYGfmC1lIVnHYz7YAIs/s320/poldark.jpg" width="213" /></a>Kondo's
description of her younger self sounds downright obsessive-compulsive,
as she searched to fine-tune her skills. Her near-desperation feels
foreign to the possession-loving Western world. Yet it is these very
things that make us dread the cleaning and organizing that those
ever-growing amounts require. It made me think of comedian George
Carlin's routine about organizing our "stuff" so that we could make
enough room to go out and buy more "stuff".<br />
<br />
As a cleaning consultant in Japan, Ms. Kondo has lists of clients who
wait breathlessly for their turn to secure her guidance in their own
homes. I WILL eventually reach my goal of possessions that spark joy,
but I cannot do it all in one fell swoop as she recommends. A dark 18th
century Englishman from Cornwall beckons, promising his own sort of
joy, and I'm answering his call first. <b> </b><br />
<br />
<br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-43238308117486684572015-07-11T08:47:00.000-07:002015-07-11T08:47:14.994-07:00BURIED ALIVE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfn8RUab4vorc2jWUR1_WgX4xbNisxWyCBsndibx66uV7ZHYUx5hB2DXRluLofAnycMZi4ZU3j6zsRRYnpdI5k2NE_s_0LSsubLm7oR85o3h2ZPmyxDogzpulMUmYrkTBGgV5rCXAqkxE/s1600/girlreading.png"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfn8RUab4vorc2jWUR1_WgX4xbNisxWyCBsndibx66uV7ZHYUx5hB2DXRluLofAnycMZi4ZU3j6zsRRYnpdI5k2NE_s_0LSsubLm7oR85o3h2ZPmyxDogzpulMUmYrkTBGgV5rCXAqkxE/s1600/girlreading.png" /></a></div>
I've often wondered if the love of reading is a result of genetics or
environment. As the daughter of a woman who never read for pleasure and
a man who made weekly treks to a public library, hauling home multiple
books each trip, I landed squarely in the read-to-excess group. Still,
I'm not sure it just happened out of the clear blue. In addition to
seeing Dad sitting on the couch, reading every night, I also attended
schools with rigorous, year-round reading lists. What began as an
annoying academic requirement soon blossomed into a love affair.<br />
<br />
My father knew the importance of good grades, so he gave me a quarter
for every "A" I brought home on periodic report cards (yes, I am that
old). Of course, twenty-five cents is unlikely to incentivize many
students today, but researchers found long ago that avid readers develop
superior skills that far surpass good spelling and larger vocabularies.
Grammar, writing and speaking ability, general knowledge and I.Q. all
expand with reading.<br />
<br />
Curling up on my sofa with a book is such a deep pleasure that the seat
cushion has developed Dad's telltale depression that my brother and I
once snickered at. Yet where my father's stack of library books was
quite modest, I have a coffee table with multiple sloping piles,
patiently waiting their turn. My to-read Everest is out of control.
Magazines are relegated to in-flight reading to spare myself the agony
of tossing unread print material into the trash.<br />
<br />
Those of you who are yelling at this page, telling me to get a
Kindle...yeah, I have one, and it only exacerbates the problem. Towers
of books can, at least, physically rebuke me by their visual presence.
Downloaded ebooks are imprisoned in a thin, black orphanage, emitting
no sense of urgency. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQT7zz0H-DlQR4lqRt8tiqS-b0txKBI2Nu09WxfECbytIUrUND2WWj5U1vXgAuIlizcfFv32MhobBvI9nIkZ_g7Hr71IKqnsJHeFd89FLrpG3ffofKwh2Naq-NKXFgHAYHlb-9cgJkBg/s1600/bookcart.png"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQT7zz0H-DlQR4lqRt8tiqS-b0txKBI2Nu09WxfECbytIUrUND2WWj5U1vXgAuIlizcfFv32MhobBvI9nIkZ_g7Hr71IKqnsJHeFd89FLrpG3ffofKwh2Naq-NKXFgHAYHlb-9cgJkBg/s1600/bookcart.png" /></a></div>
<br />
For decades at my house, spring cleaning did not apply to books. Until <a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Katrina" rel="wikipedia" target="_blank" title="Hurricane Katrina">Hurricane Katrina</a>.
Although my treasured books were not damaged, I decided to move from a
four bedroom house with two large attics to a townhouse with no attic.
It became clear that I must learn to survive without my textbooks and
anthologies from college at the very least. Potential loading and
unloading friends could be enticed with the promise of no 100-pound
boxes of books to lift. <br />
<br />
Seven garage sales followed over a two month period. The ten-cent books flew off the table. <br />
<br />
As I continue to downsize, it's become easier to part with things. I was
actually doing quite well...very well indeed...until I started to write
books as well as read them. <br />
<br />
So, just let me know if you'd like a German 101 book from 1968.<br />
<br />
(Note that this is a repost from my recent contribution to the GIRL WHO READS blog).<br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-36995909183641502662015-04-01T15:53:00.000-07:002015-04-01T16:02:27.296-07:00BOOK vs MOVIE<br />
<br />
When a new movie that is based upon a book hits the big screen, do you watch the movie or read the book first? The chicken-or-egg
process of a good story likely evokes a moment's hesitation. My own
answer? It depends.<br />
<br />
Unlike many of my bookaholic friends, I do not keep an eagle eye on the
New York Times bestseller list. My never-ending to-read list comes from a
select group of guinea pig acquaintances who have given a book a big
thumbs up. <br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong. I love a good movie too, but it's rare to find one
that captures the images that my mind has conjured from the book that it
is based on. Usually films have difficulty compressing the story
satisfactorily into the 90-120 minute attention span of the average
movie audience. <br />
<br />
Recently, I had two completely different book vs. movie experiences. The
first evolved from a former classmate and Facebook friend who raved
about a book that involved a historical romance AND time travel.
Normally I hate time travel tales, but she carried on so that I bought
the book just to shut her up. How good could it be if it had been
written over 22 years ago and I'd never heard of it? I had no idea what I
was getting myself into.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPzl0axkjHv5xOqpdObSsQcAhcFp3ukkJ6RtpkRz7kta9c5dX17nXdjhBpvD_tEMvLMK1UdlUxWze6sAc4j7rStslCnlWg46EeORIsIH7yWFCGjndG5iKAeHN2974NWHfqPB3XegDXWI/s1600/outlander-jamie-claire_0.+Jamie+Frase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPzl0axkjHv5xOqpdObSsQcAhcFp3ukkJ6RtpkRz7kta9c5dX17nXdjhBpvD_tEMvLMK1UdlUxWze6sAc4j7rStslCnlWg46EeORIsIH7yWFCGjndG5iKAeHN2974NWHfqPB3XegDXWI/s1600/outlander-jamie-claire_0.+Jamie+Frase.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
As I became more entangled in the story of Jamie Fraser and Claire Randall, I dreaded reaching the end of <a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.dianagabaldon.com/" rel="homepage" target="_blank" title="Diana Gabaldon">Diana Gabaldon</a>'s <i><a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.amazon.com/Outlander-Diana-Gabaldon/dp/0385302304%3FSubscriptionId%3D0G81C5DAZ03ZR9WH9X82%26tag%3Dgiwhre05-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3D0385302304" rel="amazon" target="_blank" title="Outlander">Outlander</a></i>.
Yet I need not have worried...there are 8 books in the series that
range from 848 to 1488 pages each. I plowed through them all at a record
pace. Much to my delight, I discovered that a television series began
last fall on the STARZ channel. I quickly added it to see how
disappointed I would be at the small screen version of such a tale. I
have watched these first eight shows several times in anticipation of
the next new installments that start April 4th. Reading these books has
enriched my appreciation for the televised series, which is done very
well, indeed. In fact, I plan to read all 8 of the books again, more
slowly, to appreciate what I devoured quickly in the first go-round.<br />
<br />
This scenario is not always the case. <br />
<br />
Not too long ago, I watched the movie <i>Gone Girl</i>. It was so
entertaining and smartly made, that I felt sure the book by Gillian
Flynn would be terrific. SO wrong (cue the Debbie Downer music here).
After nearly 100 pages - and hating every paragraph - I'm not sure I'll
finish it. All I can do is wonder how the book was ever a bestseller.
Clearly, I am in the minority here as there are over 37,000 reviews on
Amazon with an average rating of 4 out of 5 stars.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyrUz4TnF58Z0zbmSp3JqK8CPhsueaqoStMJzlIDHX58y65B_Xj6IvE8oY8fiBQGVBi_l_BZigZGs-f7LEjhlbofdtx8l4nzTN1dtA1p2fT5Rp8om4dQjjLK4WscYGqaieo06czO0ELc/s1600/MV5BMTk0MDQ3MzAzOV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNzU1NzE3MjE@._V1_SY317_CR0,0,214,317_AL_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyrUz4TnF58Z0zbmSp3JqK8CPhsueaqoStMJzlIDHX58y65B_Xj6IvE8oY8fiBQGVBi_l_BZigZGs-f7LEjhlbofdtx8l4nzTN1dtA1p2fT5Rp8om4dQjjLK4WscYGqaieo06czO0ELc/s1600/MV5BMTk0MDQ3MzAzOV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNzU1NzE3MjE@._V1_SY317_CR0,0,214,317_AL_.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
A great book won't always be a great movie, and a mediocre book can be a
very good movie. Where do you stand: book or movie first? <br />
<br />
(Note that this is a repost from a guest blog on "Girl Who Reads")Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-40389233765837859792015-02-24T15:02:00.000-08:002015-02-26T11:33:34.052-08:00THE LITTLE FILM THAT COULD....AND DID!<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxYzVLGgDJKt6oPYvmmco-7gvvP3v5XscY-aJpuxSjLtv4naENyud8XqcHWOd5P2r5cPNp0Nv3bFaCW3clXzwmaBeBr8zRSF_7lea8JfrOcxVsN7LrJVtS11d8_Wp6-GdphggZqc80C4/s1600/good+ol+freda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxYzVLGgDJKt6oPYvmmco-7gvvP3v5XscY-aJpuxSjLtv4naENyud8XqcHWOd5P2r5cPNp0Nv3bFaCW3clXzwmaBeBr8zRSF_7lea8JfrOcxVsN7LrJVtS11d8_Wp6-GdphggZqc80C4/s1600/good+ol+freda.jpg" /></a><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;">Nearly two years ago, I posted a blog (link: <a href="http://kateinla51.blogspot.com/2013/05/good-ol-freda-yeah-yeah-yeah.html%29" target="_blank">http://kateinla51.blogspot.com/2013/05/good-ol-freda-yeah-yeah-yeah.html)</a>
about a high school friend of mine whose teen obsession with music and all-things-Beatle resulted in her production of "Good Ol<b>'</b> Freda", an acclaimed documentary film about the Fab Four's long-time, faithful secretary, Freda Kelly.<br />
</span></span></span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;">
The film premiered at the famous SXSW (South x Southwest) Film Festival
on March 9, 2013. Since then, Kathy McCabe, her nephew-director Ryan
White and Freda Kelly have been touring worldwide to over 100 film
festivals and Beatles fests. You may have heard
of Ryan in the meantime if you watched HBO's presentation of "The Case
Against Eight". He and Ben Cotner were the directors and writers<b></b> of this look at the aftermath and events that led up to California's Proposition 8, which added a new provision
to the state's Declaration of Rights that defined marriage as only "between a man and a woman". They won the Best Director Award at the Sundance Film Festival in 2014 and, more recently, the prestigious Humanitas Award in January 2015 for this film.<b></b></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">
</span></span></span>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span dir="ltr">
</span></span></span></span>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span dir="ltr"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span dir="ltr">
From its Kickstarter fundraising campaign beginnings, "Good Ol'<b> </b>Freda<b>"</b>
has grown from claiming multiple Best Documentary awards at its many
screenings to mainstream Netflix status. Television stations in the
U.S., Europe, Japan, Canada, Australia
and South America have featured this amazing film. This special part of
Beatles history was the first independent documentary to receive
permission to license The Beatles' music from the master recordings.
Kathy and Freda can't help but laugh when they exit
an airplane restroom, only to see Freda's face on the video screens of
passenger seat backs during their travels.<br />
<div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TWxvlm6guxE8IMNo4v5X8w9k14n6ZSaWqq-0b6lkHpPjkz8Y_dZvUhzybTvRrjBqdJK5MasExxOWzKQUTcqV52p8h0rr6ZR6XR5b_YEOduXKCliFgvIGmQBY2BCsyXP39fWOUIwnk2Y/s1600/kathy+and+freda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4TWxvlm6guxE8IMNo4v5X8w9k14n6ZSaWqq-0b6lkHpPjkz8Y_dZvUhzybTvRrjBqdJK5MasExxOWzKQUTcqV52p8h0rr6ZR6XR5b_YEOduXKCliFgvIGmQBY2BCsyXP39fWOUIwnk2Y/s1600/kathy+and+freda.jpg" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div>
When asked what sticks in her mind about her travels to promote the
film, McCabe shakes her head and states, "What's beautiful to see as we
travel is the love and respect that Beatle People give Freda. She has
been so touched by the response. In a way, they're
paying her back for all the great things she did for The Beatles, their
families and fans. People just want to hug her, tell her their little
stories, and have their picture taken with her. Many of them bring
items to show her what she sent them 50 years
ago from The Beatles Fan Club. In Mexico City<span style="font-weight: normal;"> last December</span>,
a man brought in two sets of Beatle autographs (one set included
Freda's own signature) and asked her to authenticate them. They were
the real thing...probably
worth about about $50,000<b>.</b> She sent things like this to fans routinely during those years <span style="font-weight: normal;">and when the Beatles Fan Club ended she gave away all the leftover Beatle items to fans</span>." <br />
<div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div>
The juggernaut that is "Good Ol'<b></b> Freda" continues in 2015. Visits to Rome, Austria, Mauritius, Italy and Chicago are already scheduled, with more to be added.<br />
<div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div>
The big local news is that Freda Kelly herself will appear at a
fundraising screening for the Catonsville (Maryland) Community
Foundation on October 10, 2015. Tickets are $30 and available from Joe
Loverde by phoning (410) 788-2425 or by contacting him at
joe@realtyconcept.com. Don't wait - because the show is already half
sold out! </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;">
<div dir="ltr">
<span dir="ltr"></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span dir="ltr"></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span dir="ltr"></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span dir="ltr"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span dir="ltr"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEbcbdDK5KwgTf6Sv9HEhcG3bIloLdsBxUcfFwHTktoPN1o90mxYhHhWqkbbSr63sNnpGg2YcSZZ3I02Gv3a4BjH-6NxB6ERkM3wROzR_2zk_fRUvV2FdcJzFDrdvknlos7qBvNAYdUk/s1600/ccbc+freda+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEbcbdDK5KwgTf6Sv9HEhcG3bIloLdsBxUcfFwHTktoPN1o90mxYhHhWqkbbSr63sNnpGg2YcSZZ3I02Gv3a4BjH-6NxB6ERkM3wROzR_2zk_fRUvV2FdcJzFDrdvknlos7qBvNAYdUk/s1600/ccbc+freda+poster.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a></span></div>
<span dir="ltr">
<div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div>
When I asked Kathy how she felt about her amazing accomplishment, she
smiled. "It's the little film that could. We never dreamed it would
take off the way it has. We figured it would be big for Beatle fans,
but never dreamed we'd be traveling for two or
three years straight since the film's release<b></b>. It's really been a
wonderful ride, but it wouldn't have happened without the support of
family, friends, Beatle People/organizations, and many total strangers.
We're very grateful to everyone who helped
us." </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>If you want a copy of Good Ol' Freda, you can order it on </b><a href="http://www.goodolfreda.com/" target="_blank"><b>www.goodolfreda.com</b></a><b>. </b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>
Kathy also keeps autographed copies on sale
if you'd like to get one directly from her (</b><a href="mailto:kmccabe44@comcast.net" target="_blank"><b>kmccabe44@comcast.net</b></a><b>) If you would like to follow Freda, you can 'Like' the Good Ol' Freda Facebook page.</b><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</span></div>
</span></span></span>Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-80418792484500725462014-11-17T18:16:00.000-08:002014-11-19T14:13:21.212-08:00Viking Women DO Care - A Leif-Long Legacy<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjUXe2q0OW3sW_BhOYrHXb2VEaFqUj5M0SSZb-HrqHavuQl5UwynquWWAlq65CJHn8dM5rpbHxoP9FxjoXH8KSYpPUjaoC8wGmmTZl2QvM535O6cyAaSufJKZv6VFhLIWfobTJS01hB4/s1600/larry+evans+steelworker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjUXe2q0OW3sW_BhOYrHXb2VEaFqUj5M0SSZb-HrqHavuQl5UwynquWWAlq65CJHn8dM5rpbHxoP9FxjoXH8KSYpPUjaoC8wGmmTZl2QvM535O6cyAaSufJKZv6VFhLIWfobTJS01hB4/s1600/larry+evans+steelworker.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
While visiting family in Summit, New Jersey this weekend, I received an email that was the equivalent of a gut-punch. A friend from high school and college had died in an automobile accident. Now I hadn't seen the man since our circle of friends graduated in 1969, but Facebook has enabled many of us to reconnect and catch up on each others' lives. We had messaged back and forth after I published "Ednor Scardens". He had been thinking along the same lines, organizing material for his own book, and we traded ideas over several weeks.<br />
<br />
A month ago a copy of his book "Viking Women Don't Care - Vol.1, Wrestling with Baltimore" appeared on my doorstep. Since it was a non-fiction memoir, I enjoyed delving into it, reliving many of my own teen years and the antics I'd shared within our group. He was coming down to Baltimore in early December to do a book-signing. I was readying a list of interview questions to incorporate into an article to promote the event. Now I'm paging through the book again in sadness as I read his handwritten note inside the cover: "To Kath, my favorite critic! Enjoy the memories. Love, Leif." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7E8ZG0lyNmkHmTg6QNVKQU_85FEVmHnF1W4E6B4ZHhujc5S_JuUnKhBc0JOvj_5vdx8tmEFFDTvyHshNo-3zbFrcUTAnmtFhuT1_DafIArQn6rNytrEieNibDZddgwsaLyaTig3M0W9o/s1600/larry+evans'+book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7E8ZG0lyNmkHmTg6QNVKQU_85FEVmHnF1W4E6B4ZHhujc5S_JuUnKhBc0JOvj_5vdx8tmEFFDTvyHshNo-3zbFrcUTAnmtFhuT1_DafIArQn6rNytrEieNibDZddgwsaLyaTig3M0W9o/s1600/larry+evans'%2Bbook.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Lawrence Frederic "Larry" "Leif" Evans was a unique guy. Always sports-obsessed, an activist and organizer, he was like a thousand-piece puzzle that someone put in a can, shook, and dumped out. Friendly, crazy, and socially-conscious, he was the one who could put together an event for a good cause and make it so much fun that you wouldn't dream of missing it. He could sell you a bag of dog crap and you'd happily pay for it...and thank him. He organized school dances, Santa Claus Anonymous charity football events, and much, much more. Most of us who called him friend didn't have a clue about his painfully tumultuous childhood. He was one of us, but just crazier. Leif joined the VISTA service corps after graduation and worked with migrant workers in Florida. I would have paid to see that.<br />
<br />
He labored for several years as a steelworker, and during that time he created a news magazine written by and for the men and women who worked there. Food banks, group home counseling, community newspapers, community-access television, politics...you name it...if it helped someone, Larry was likely involved in it. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKaK6873zjGURCi9Dgtkti57sboBldULnZ9D9npiiKvgXpgJgYvJ9b6ZJPN0mx3_ht1cpHWG_B5V6CiYtuQa4RZi_UtkdOcRDeQLkpCJlMhux2obY2CgCgqlwh-dnrTU_N7nD6drpdu-w/s1600/larry+evans+and+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKaK6873zjGURCi9Dgtkti57sboBldULnZ9D9npiiKvgXpgJgYvJ9b6ZJPN0mx3_ht1cpHWG_B5V6CiYtuQa4RZi_UtkdOcRDeQLkpCJlMhux2obY2CgCgqlwh-dnrTU_N7nD6drpdu-w/s1600/larry+evans+and+family.jpg" height="202" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In 445 B.C. the Greek historian Herodotus wrote, "Whom the gods love dies young." While many would not feel 67 years of age to be especially young, Larry had "promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." He wanted more time. So did we.<br />
<br />
************************************************************************************* <br />
<br />
To learn more about Lawrence F. Evans, cut and paste this link to the Pittsburgh Post Gazette: http://www.post-gazette.com/news/obituaries/2014/11/17/Journalist-activist-Lawrence-F-Evans-July-13-1947-Nov-15-2014/stories/201411170057 <br />
<br />
Funeral details: visitation will
be 2-4 p.m. and 6-8 p.m. Wednesday, with a 7:30 p.m. memorial service
at William Slater II Funeral Service, 1650 Greentree Road, Green Tree
(15220). <br />
<br />
To purchase a copy of Larry's book:http://www.amazon.com/Viking-Women-Dont-Care-Wrestling/dp/0990544508/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1416276257&sr=8-1&keywords=viking+women+don%27t+careKathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-50554043570726599462014-10-10T17:18:00.000-07:002014-10-10T17:18:01.200-07:00CLOSETED CREATIVITY<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBq1iG6JwX1eriZW7IQDojYPkjSHZ715Pvkp4_QBT9IjfszUgvbHJJIakMgEPYexi0Coyo7SWx0Bg_taz8Xfmh_9mfaIhbrCEmiP3PewFemp006spP1dQxQwx853phBtYqOq5UddEMM0/s1600/sewing+machine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBq1iG6JwX1eriZW7IQDojYPkjSHZ715Pvkp4_QBT9IjfszUgvbHJJIakMgEPYexi0Coyo7SWx0Bg_taz8Xfmh_9mfaIhbrCEmiP3PewFemp006spP1dQxQwx853phBtYqOq5UddEMM0/s1600/sewing+machine.jpg" height="320" width="192" /></a></div>
<br />
Lately, I've been getting requests from the grandkids for things like costumes, capes and other make-believe apparel. Coincidentally, I attended the Maryland Renaissance Fair and watched ten-year-old Emma drool over the long, hooded velvet capes. They were lovely, and I drew nearer to turn over the price tag only to find they were over $100 each. The older I get, the more easily shocked I am at the price of anything made closer to home than China. Of course, I didn't buy the cape for her, but began thinking it couldn't be that hard to make. I thought of my long-neglected sewing machine, gathering dust in my closet. I'd paid the then-outrageous sum of $600 for the swiss-made Bernina 801 Sport in 1983. When my husband asked how much it had cost, I lied and told him $150. It doesn't have all the computerized hoopla that today's $1000+ machines have, but it falls solidly in the 'they-don't-make-them-like-that-anymore' category.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigpoQnRwHCB5QAcS-5ofR4huPWzOHTERRiBPqQnx-ScaIRCmy572DPIOPlPxdi5eyodHOtUVbKPOR5k7gzNFvm9aASrkR0KMEvaV36mcmQcutOXWLgMM490oRH9EGJ5SlwbdS6ZLnmsPQ/s1600/bernina-1008_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigpoQnRwHCB5QAcS-5ofR4huPWzOHTERRiBPqQnx-ScaIRCmy572DPIOPlPxdi5eyodHOtUVbKPOR5k7gzNFvm9aASrkR0KMEvaV36mcmQcutOXWLgMM490oRH9EGJ5SlwbdS6ZLnmsPQ/s1600/bernina-1008_0.jpg" height="320" width="288" /></a></div>
<br />
The last time I sewed, Emma was four. She wanted a gorgeous princess outfit, so I went all-out, spending $50 on the fabric, trim and pattern. It did turn out beautifully, a pink full-skirted satin dream with golden trim, complemented by a matching full-length cape and headdress. She was thrilled, and the outfit still hangs in the closet with a slightly frayed hemline from the steps and sidewalks she traipsed, wanting to show it off as much as to collect Halloween candy.<br />
<br />
Perhaps I could reclaim my magic-granting status and make the coveted velvet cape, but the last time I did some repairs to torn fabric, my machine was acting quite perverse, threads breaking with abandon until I gave up and shoved it back in its corner. I began to search for a repair shop, finally finding one that would take on my old war horse. <br />
<br />
Having located a store, I lugged the heavy, swiss-made machine onto the counter. The woman smiled when she saw it, commenting on what a great machine it was. Her smile faded a bit as she pulled the cover off and saw its dusty, neglected state. She asked when was the last time it had been serviced. My face reddened slightly when I murmured, "Right before I bought it, I suppose." And yes, that was also 1983. She stroked the metal beast as if to comfort it and retorted, "Well, no wonder....".<br />
<br />
As I looked around the quilting store, I realized I was the youngest person in the store...the only one who didn't have gray hair. I wondered how many people actually sew anymore. Or knit? Women are so busy today with jobs and families that perhaps only the wealthy, retired or childless have the time to pursue homespun crafts. <br />
<br />
During my own childhood, families in my parents' economic strata didn't spend money on Halloween costumes. We wracked our brains for what we could create out of odds and ends around the house. I remember being a gypsy one year with a long skirt, my mom's shawl, a mask and heavy makeup. Well, it was the chance to apply makeup without restraint that sealed the deal on that one. Another year I was a butterfly, which consisted of a black leotard, black tights, wings cut out of cardboard that I had painted and glittered, and antennae attached to a headband.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRhgjk2Q90oqevXZfhMnwDkt5fbrsz8EQcWESs5PUtjBErTNOr5AIBGGtWEKfIc6bI_EqMl-Koxp5masTr1Ylt5e9swez_a0zAuzcLr-8XDdb9_fWQE_5yY-fmrvAWQty87qRtVJblbM/s1600/costumes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRhgjk2Q90oqevXZfhMnwDkt5fbrsz8EQcWESs5PUtjBErTNOr5AIBGGtWEKfIc6bI_EqMl-Koxp5masTr1Ylt5e9swez_a0zAuzcLr-8XDdb9_fWQE_5yY-fmrvAWQty87qRtVJblbM/s1600/costumes.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My own kids had been skeletons - a loose black suit upon which I had sewn white cut-out bones, devils - the same pattern with a red suit and appliqued yellow pitchfork, a red cape and a cap with horns, princesses, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, and a colonial maiden (we saved that outfit from a school play). I've always hated the cheap store-bought costumes and, truthfully, my kids didn't like them much either, knowing I could make something much more fun. <br />
<br />
The grandkids' tastes are mostly the same: both Renaissance and super-hero capes, although the three year old girl wants to be Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty. His dragon-fighting role is much more appealing to her than lying on a bed, waiting for true love's kiss. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtMGt9fWT0c-DoQJwS7CROfaYbSSzYW1s3OT8z63l20VRdZOgLRBuYHM0d4J6jRAJ_pg4nMmK-wd9VTSWso3khqVnw147c8EuLBGkP5zJ2M3XwtzN-OEeHmpzVsztocn6WJv__-1HPYo/s1600/costumes3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtMGt9fWT0c-DoQJwS7CROfaYbSSzYW1s3OT8z63l20VRdZOgLRBuYHM0d4J6jRAJ_pg4nMmK-wd9VTSWso3khqVnw147c8EuLBGkP5zJ2M3XwtzN-OEeHmpzVsztocn6WJv__-1HPYo/s1600/costumes3.jpg" height="320" width="255" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So I wait patiently with my repair ticket in hand, wondering how frustrating it will be to reacquaint myself with my old machine. There will be cursing...a lot...as I stop and read how to turn a particular seam or finish an edge, but there will be joy also. Young eyes will shine with happiness to receive something crafted for them. And I will smile, hiding the band-aids on my fingers.Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-50963581214629936402014-08-21T16:43:00.000-07:002014-08-21T16:43:40.337-07:00Running From Helmet Head<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3eZH-X1r4yUqNrb_fhyOhpQi08HqVL0BQ_dnFhrfxKPCkjYZPSu_VTc2QpNsmwgpDcqS_fuBAr3nPGZmk-3UlTvhwZ63XoLbzXPm5TAkJkeW4d-g4cbZ5GS4h6lm9Se1a6BVokn62Nfg/s1600/perm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3eZH-X1r4yUqNrb_fhyOhpQi08HqVL0BQ_dnFhrfxKPCkjYZPSu_VTc2QpNsmwgpDcqS_fuBAr3nPGZmk-3UlTvhwZ63XoLbzXPm5TAkJkeW4d-g4cbZ5GS4h6lm9Se1a6BVokn62Nfg/s1600/perm.jpg" /></a></div>
In the 1950's, I would often sit on the front porch of my parents' row house and watch the parade of women exiting the house across the street. The woman who owned it ran a beauty salon out of her basement. Hair that entered that place straight and lank emerged coiffed and curled. Most of the time REALLY curled, and wafting a chemical smell that I swore was detectable even from my concrete perch. My grandmother got her hair permed. My mom too. And one day my mother ushered me into this female sanctum and I too was permed. At first I felt very grown up, not knowing that I looked like a geek. Within days, I stood desperately in front of the window fan, trying to brush out the kink, praying for regrowth so I could get it cut and look normal again. The tide had turned and perms fell out of favor for anyone under 30.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWrWa9ORunKESg5jczE4m9t6FZJQa_loJU6lybcqO1nnEcp-lD7OSfAs0GLJDBWxfAe1M9xdNcDQLlD3EnpPrP7HXFvsYGVX-MtSJQPXmJf4uCfbf6GEJ4IsVXENORbTVhD-dc93U-1s/s1600/davis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWrWa9ORunKESg5jczE4m9t6FZJQa_loJU6lybcqO1nnEcp-lD7OSfAs0GLJDBWxfAe1M9xdNcDQLlD3EnpPrP7HXFvsYGVX-MtSJQPXmJf4uCfbf6GEJ4IsVXENORbTVhD-dc93U-1s/s1600/davis.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Like most fashions, permanent waves swung back into style again in the late 70's and early 80's, but they were different. Fatter, looser curls were possible, unlike the iconic Angela Davis 'fro of yore. So, I did it again, with much better results. I flat-out loved it. A more advanced version of my old window fan had been invented - the blow dryer - and with three small children as well as being part of a rabid running group, this was an answer to my prayers. I liked it so much that I had several more over a span of 4 or 5 years, copying the Farrah Fawcett 'wings' during the height of her fame.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yAAJo3lx1OPWHlRx3iuuJly-DkXSqHyM872Qaw_CxXw59Lfl6piKrzCWz5RTJF-9LykJhLVOukV29aRE2kjeOCsYOlLbRHJgQKroygkUtFFccx8af7ZMHstkNfROXCq6DLLvAVfNmdE/s1600/fawcett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yAAJo3lx1OPWHlRx3iuuJly-DkXSqHyM872Qaw_CxXw59Lfl6piKrzCWz5RTJF-9LykJhLVOukV29aRE2kjeOCsYOlLbRHJgQKroygkUtFFccx8af7ZMHstkNfROXCq6DLLvAVfNmdE/s1600/fawcett.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Today I stand on the precipice. After nearly 30 years of straight hair, I see a much older me staring back in the mirror. Lank, shoulder-length hair only accentuates the havoc that gravity is exerting. I don't want short hair - yet - as I live in fear of old-lady helmet head or any version of my mom's or grandmother's. <br />
<br />
Susan Sarandon waits patiently on my phone's photo stream as I head to a salon, clutching craigslist and ebay earnings to forfeit in exchange for chemicals. Would my scalp burst into flames from the toxic ingredients? Would my hair break off and fall out? Would I look like a freak or an 80's throwback? Would it take my entire monthly retirement check to cope with the afternath? I prayed as I drove to a place that I'd researched meticulously, both through Baltimore Magazine's annual "Best Of" lists and customer reviews. The receptionist had called earlier that morning to reschedule my appointment by a few hours because the original stylist had called in sick. Was that an omen? Was Farrah sending me a warning from the afterlife in the only way she could? <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhux21DLQaZCyM7zm5BILVd_iftdFxhnv9xKQNNpl1dmOaYBBZVTLbVMcWC1JnBW74Ev_5PPrdzmCeJq90tUpgQ93VmWZTx5e7UTCOYydjcFz_6Lbu5ka17DJer2B4Nal8VUhPC8JmWOEU/s1600/sarandon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhux21DLQaZCyM7zm5BILVd_iftdFxhnv9xKQNNpl1dmOaYBBZVTLbVMcWC1JnBW74Ev_5PPrdzmCeJq90tUpgQ93VmWZTx5e7UTCOYydjcFz_6Lbu5ka17DJer2B4Nal8VUhPC8JmWOEU/s1600/sarandon.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Pulling into the parking lot, I felt calmer as I saw the bubbling stream flowing next to the building. I reassured myself that I had done everything possible to prepare for this...except charge my phone, which threatened to make Ms. Sarandon disappear before I could display her images to the stylist. As I eased myself into the chair, Kim (the stylist) introduced herself. She was attractive, in her late forties and I was thankful that I hadn't gotten a young girl who might later regale her friends with the story of this strange woman who actually asked for a perm. I babbled nervously, flashing pictures and waving my hands around, trying to explain and expecting her to tell me she was a beautician, not a magician. She smiled, asked a few questions for clarification and went to work. We chatted easily as she worked, which is unusual for me. I'm not good at small talk with strangers. <br />
<br />
Every single employee and customer in the place had straight hair....not a curl in sight. I warned Kim that it had been years since I'd left a salon and not gone home to put my head under a faucet. She thanked me for the warning and laughed, assuring me that it would take time to get to know my new hair, to play with it until I was satisfied. And no washing, styling, or pulling into a ponytail for 48 hours so the curl could set.. <br />
<br />
At last, after two and a half hours, I was done. Gazing cautiously into the mirror, I smiled. No, it wasn't twenty-year-old me staring back. It was a softer, better-looking me with a classier look that wouldn't fall flat an hour later. But don't ask me for pictures...my 48 hours aren't up yet! <br />
<br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-27401085316881226372014-05-24T11:35:00.001-07:002014-05-25T09:54:26.414-07:00Frozen in a Cultural Avalanche<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU0VjsT0ppgVS1XxpSDpoNumPDW91O3feK9By-g50KvO33ThsK3OG65y3e6yetwL4yFtnLuNKMxZVwh0sYF42WGaNityL8JnzXm0qC8OR4B_XtNM0kU5KIHluWyFx5dhoNVdCX7BbcVQ/s1600/Frozen_(2013_film)_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU0VjsT0ppgVS1XxpSDpoNumPDW91O3feK9By-g50KvO33ThsK3OG65y3e6yetwL4yFtnLuNKMxZVwh0sYF42WGaNityL8JnzXm0qC8OR4B_XtNM0kU5KIHluWyFx5dhoNVdCX7BbcVQ/s1600/Frozen_(2013_film)_poster.jpg" height="320" width="215" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
A recent issue of <i>Time</i> magazine carried an article by one of my favorite columnists, Joel Stein, in which he recounted the difficulties his young son, Lazlo, has had with the Disney juggernaut, <i>Frozen</i>. The little boy refuses to watch the movie, muttering his dislike for anything to do with dresses and princesses, and everywhere the poor kid turns, he must endure the aural assault of small females belting out "Let It Go".<br />
<br />
I am intimately familiar with both the movie and the main characters, Princesses Elsa and Anna, since I have multiple family members under the age of ten. The three-year-old in particular is in the throes of a princess fever which has continued unabated since I gave her a Cinderella dress from the Disney store as well as several dolls and a much-coveted Princess Anna dress. She wants to wear the Cinderella dress every day, everywhere. Her achievement-oriented mom probably hates me for temporarily leading her astray. The child is smart. She remembers things that were mentioned months ago and whips them out when you least expect it. One of us commented on group of cacti while on a hike last fall. Then, at least six months later, while seeing a photo of an assortment of the small plants, she interjected, "Look mommy, those succulents look just like flowers." I'm not worried, as I often watch her construct complex skyscrapers out of MagnaTiles while decked out in princess regalia, complete with tiara. <br />
<br />
Decades ago, while I was still a kid, Disney first struck merchandising gold with Fess Parker's <i>Davey Crockett</i> character. Every little boy I knew had to have his trademark coonskin cap. Princess culture was in its infancy. I don't remember seeing Cinderella, Aurora and Snow White blanketing toy store displays. In fact, I thought the coolest thing about the <i>Sleeping Beauty</i> film was sitting in the first row of the Hippodrome theater and marveling as Maleficent grew into a giant, fire-breathing dragon. <br />
<br />
Now, before a film is even released, Disney and other toy makers have to calculate how much inventory to stock, or risk being stuck with unwanted merchandise. With <i>Frozen</i>, they were caught off guard by how wildly successful it has been. Even now, six months after its theater run, parents are still unable to obtain the coveted Elsa and Anna dresses and dolls unless they want to part with two or three times the retail price via Ebay or Amazon. And no...I did not pay that. I stumbled onto the Disney online store one sleepless night about 4 a.m. when they were in stock for $44.<br />
<br />
I feel for Stein's son, as I'm going through a similar irritation because I won't join the <i>Celtic Thunder </i>and <i>Celtic Woman </i> fan base. After viewing bits and pieces of the show on public television, I felt manipulated by its slick presentation. Men swaggered onstage, demanding that I think them desirable. Women sang sweetly (princess-like?) to avoid alienating the audience of almost exclusively mature women. Don't get me wrong: I love Irish music. What I hate is being expected to join a love-struck crowd of older women, simply because a show has been engineered in a way that certainly expects me to do so.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl1lXLWwjhcXNLOUPygfav4iGE68B7qpQNSo5TQs_het9e3GQs3dAva-DXJeqjQM__rYno27m6FElTih4YeQAexB-5F7r5CtgHNhc9mUc0oRS3lglr6RhWTjf8OLOO7oAY_JsSZKtG-k/s1600/celtic+thunder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXl1lXLWwjhcXNLOUPygfav4iGE68B7qpQNSo5TQs_het9e3GQs3dAva-DXJeqjQM__rYno27m6FElTih4YeQAexB-5F7r5CtgHNhc9mUc0oRS3lglr6RhWTjf8OLOO7oAY_JsSZKtG-k/s1600/celtic+thunder.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So, Lazlo, I feel your pain. And I hope my daughter doesn't disown me when the Rapunzel dress arrives on her doorstep next week. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-56552280857642389092014-05-11T14:02:00.000-07:002014-05-11T14:02:44.097-07:00MOTHERLESS DAY<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2Ex4Tt6wt9v-jExGFa2b5OfsP25SjpP2m3q0U928J9gnaS_Smn58lNXAxx1J6-_BNWkLNFB58-ralHZfZWTVMRNOj09L8UdW9HQDcSn-3u7PvF-_9IMFwIY1PRsRyNQWgiYppR1aRoc/s1600/mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2Ex4Tt6wt9v-jExGFa2b5OfsP25SjpP2m3q0U928J9gnaS_Smn58lNXAxx1J6-_BNWkLNFB58-ralHZfZWTVMRNOj09L8UdW9HQDcSn-3u7PvF-_9IMFwIY1PRsRyNQWgiYppR1aRoc/s1600/mom.jpg" height="320" width="254" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
"Firsts" are quixotic. They can be thrilling events such as first steps, first dates, and first kisses. Sometimes they are less so: the first holiday season away from home or the first holiday season at home without your children. The most difficult firsts are those that have no hope of change. They will be followed by a second, a third and so on.<br />
<br />
Mother's Day is one of those.<br />
<br />
Irene Catherine Barker died last fall at the ripe old age of 95. It was a relief of sorts, as she had been in a nursing home for several years, enduring what none of us want to endure. When I say that I miss her, I mean that I miss the mom she was during her vital, sentient years before she lost the ability to walk, to hear my voice or to even recognize me. <br />
<br />
I thought about this commemorative day all week, planning to visit her grave site and place flowers in her memory, but the day is nearly over and I've yet to go. Her passing is still too new, too raw to go to the cemetery with the crowds who trek there today in ritual homage. Yesterday I caught myself several times, wondering what I could get for her, to make her smile and feel special before realizing that won't happen again....ever.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow I will go, when the crowds are gone and I can be alone with her. Now the visits are for me. She won't know I'm there. All I can hope for is that the love and care she gave me during her lifetime continues to shine through her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijjTbQTLfbRAue4gySas30LW1D6dsfNrTZkeCVcgYxyeQMz_U3eGLlGROapig5Tc7E3aqvDPnnG8GXuXI8VHVQHPsRO2Kcf1SwNHieeluSVeynG48nW_1MUuyfAeBiZeS_nGpa48LaEk/s1600/kids+trio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijjTbQTLfbRAue4gySas30LW1D6dsfNrTZkeCVcgYxyeQMz_U3eGLlGROapig5Tc7E3aqvDPnnG8GXuXI8VHVQHPsRO2Kcf1SwNHieeluSVeynG48nW_1MUuyfAeBiZeS_nGpa48LaEk/s1600/kids+trio.jpg" height="262" width="320" /></a></div>
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-73806342951011768692014-04-11T07:29:00.002-07:002014-04-11T07:31:35.485-07:00FREE EBOOKS......TODAY ONLY!As a special, one-day promotion, you can get a FREE copy of EDNOR SCARDENS and THE BODY WAR, books 1 and 2 of the Charm City Chronicles.<br />
<br />
Here are the links....enjoy!<br />
<br />
http://www.amazon.com/Ednor-Scardens-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B008BODK0E/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397223952&sr=1-1&keywords=ednor+scardens<br />
<br />
<br />
http://www.amazon.com/Body-War-Charm-City-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B008D983ZY/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397225878&sr=1-3&keywords=the+body+warKathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-84640019913048098412013-10-20T16:30:00.000-07:002013-10-20T16:30:07.928-07:00Closer to the EdgeSince my mom passed away a couple of weeks ago at the ripe old age of 95, I've experienced a strange mix of emotions; sadness and grief, because I will miss her, and relief, as I know her quality of life was low. Deaf, wheelchair bound, and episodic dementia is a sad extension of a purposeful life. She was ready to go, and died peacefully in her sleep. <br />
<br />
Born on her grandparents' farm in then-rural Maryland in 1917 - just 14 years after the Wright Brothers flew the first successful airplane and 5 years after the sinking of the Titanic, she and her three siblings experienced great chunks of our country's historical events. The U.S. entered World War I just six months before she was born. She was 12 years old when the Great<br />
Depression began. The Dust Bowl's seven-year reign began when she turned 14. World War II began when she was 24. With children two and six years old, she said goodbye to her husband when he was drafted during the Korean War.<br />
<br />
She saw the development of the television set. Sputnik was launched when she was 38 and the race to the moon was on...the same year that Rosa Parks refused to give up her bus seat. At 44, she saw the Berlin Wall constructed. After that, the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement and the tumultuous decades of the 60's and 70's became something my parents tutt-tutted about with their friends while it became part of my own tapestry. <br />
<br />
What I didn't expect to experience after her passing was a deepening sense of my own mortality. As long as she was alive, she was my shield against the void of death. Her very existence was a reassuring barrier, a little Dutch child plugging the leak in the dike. My brother, my only sibling, died two years ago, and my dad has been gone for 13 years. I am the sole survivor of my original family. <br />
<br />
Independence has always been important to me, and with children, grandchildren, cousins, nieces and nephews, I'm rarely lonely. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm next in line. It's the nature of things and I accept it. It doesn't mean I have to like it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLuwuf-EX1FRRI1t1RxTqPWl7xs-uDi_kkfM-Vuh_BgnzOpnxD-DYPsZYSVjirJttcD8agBLL4fINTIErSgLtIybufxu69dWll19lf8XxaC2m0OE23LyiNntfFXbi1JZZNo3kYFav7pE/s1600/IMG_0187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLuwuf-EX1FRRI1t1RxTqPWl7xs-uDi_kkfM-Vuh_BgnzOpnxD-DYPsZYSVjirJttcD8agBLL4fINTIErSgLtIybufxu69dWll19lf8XxaC2m0OE23LyiNntfFXbi1JZZNo3kYFav7pE/s320/IMG_0187.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-80318047928173864262013-08-30T07:26:00.003-07:002014-05-24T12:55:31.043-07:00A TALE OF A JJIMJILBANG<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzM_gYgP952_EJjG4jeix4b1aeNlb8hIlwXC8Sz5hPdEIwVMMcokcxwlpuAg0wpvWfBf8j3VZUSfZiQ_CmUjU3J0VBgzXbZx1152OaDOHEnYtYFXB5GZ49ivSPa0pRTFF-ygxed3jPKy0/s1600/wi+spa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzM_gYgP952_EJjG4jeix4b1aeNlb8hIlwXC8Sz5hPdEIwVMMcokcxwlpuAg0wpvWfBf8j3VZUSfZiQ_CmUjU3J0VBgzXbZx1152OaDOHEnYtYFXB5GZ49ivSPa0pRTFF-ygxed3jPKy0/s320/wi+spa.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s something delicious, hedonistic even, about a trip
to a day spa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I close my eyes, I
envision lying on a cushioned table, snuggled in one of those fluffy, heated
blankets, straight from the warmer, while an anonymous someone applies fruit or
herb scented concoctions to my face and body after a 60 to 90 minute
massage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been to a few, but not
many, as they usually don’t come cheap.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When one of my daughters announced we were going to spend a
few hours at a spa in Los Angeles recently, the appropriate pleasure area of my
brain lit up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She saw my eyes roll back
and quickly added a disclaimer:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it was a
place she had never been to before, but thought it might be fun to check out
together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, by the way, it was a
Korean spa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lighted things in my
brain paused, realigning their expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stereotypes and
preconceived notions swirled as a weird mosaic began to take shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I envisioned a spa-version of a Chinese
laundry with sweaty Asian men dressed in white tee shirts, aprons and head
wrappings punishing me with their hands, beating my back like a drum while
judging my wrinkles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Female attendants
tsk-tsked as they smeared octopus ink, shark fin serum and oils made from slaughtered
endangered species on my skin, reserving the magical potions for their
well-heeled, regular customers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
all, what could I expect from a place that is open 24 hours a day and only
charges a fifteen dollar entry fee?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I smiled bravely and entered the double doors of the Wi spa,
somewhat apprehensive about the exact translation of the word “jjimjilbang”. At the front desk, we were given waterproof wristwatch-like
devices that secured our lockers with a wave of our hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The receptionist explained that the lower
floor was for women only, the middle floor for men only and the upper floor was
co-ed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She indicated that we were
welcome to don an outfit of their well-worn signature tee shirts and shorts if
we were uncomfortable with nudity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wait….what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My anxiety meter
rose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who said anything about being
nude?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I brought my bathing suit for the
hot and cold Jacuzzis, so surely that would be allowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We changed into the logo-splashed uniform and
walked straight into a room full of naked Korean women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A large sign indicated that no clothing of
any kind was allowed in the Jacuzzis, and instructed us to visit the washing
stations before entering the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh,
those must be the showers, I thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why don’t they just call them that?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixPprcET8ycxKDKdtfo3D9c6qU43wmz8qqrfWsJSPEYHTaIziMMxtjPkfnljKUkTUp4L3n4q8Iyka6BvsU2MUm8WI4E94lIT1hSaFHx-w_yeaEkTXKykgXqsF4wLnmJVHpwXuzpJq6dI/s1600/wi+spa+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixPprcET8ycxKDKdtfo3D9c6qU43wmz8qqrfWsJSPEYHTaIziMMxtjPkfnljKUkTUp4L3n4q8Iyka6BvsU2MUm8WI4E94lIT1hSaFHx-w_yeaEkTXKykgXqsF4wLnmJVHpwXuzpJq6dI/s320/wi+spa+2.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, because they aren’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rows of women squatted on little molded plastic seats that looked like
step stools to me, but tilted so you could see THAT in front of large lighted
mirrors, wash basins and handheld shower heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They cleaned every inch of themselves as if they were preparing to be
inspected afterward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told my daughter
I would wait for her on the benches against the wall and sat behind a post so
I’d have something to look at other than, uh, naked people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My eyes searched for something neutral to
stare at, only to land on an open passageway that revealed a room full of
tables that held more naked women whose body parts jiggled as they were
massaged by female attendants dressed in bras and panties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Said daughter knew I was hiding and suggested
we check out the co-ed floor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A little voice in my head warned, “If the women’s floor
freaked you out, just wait.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it
turned out, the co-ed floor was my favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The stairwell opened up into a large gym-like area ringed by several saunas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first was small, and the floor was
covered with large nuggets of salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
followed the example of the others already inside and lay down in the
salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tempted to move my arms and
legs to make the equivalent of a snow angel, but restrained my Caucasian
self.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The temperature was 124
degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a prudent length of time,
we decided to try the ice room, where the 41 degree air was a welcome
relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The jade sauna was next, with
mats on the floor of an enclosure where the walls and ceiling were constructed
of various rocks and geodes which I supposed were types of jade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its temperature rivaled the salt sauna. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They clay sauna was closed for maintenance,
but what we could see indicated it was made of little clay balls to lie on
instead of salt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The most intense sauna was the forest room where the
temperature was over 200 degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were no places to sit, as our butts would have protested vigorously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stood on our towels for
protection and fled back to the ice room after about 5 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mats and foam block headrests lay in rows on the floor,
inviting us to relax after the saunas sucked away energy, toxins and bad
karma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness everyone on this
floor was clothed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My daughter took a
brief nap on one of the mats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rested
beside her for a few minutes before fleeing to the familiarity of the computer
terminals to check my email, in English.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, would I go back to the “jjimjilbang” Korean Day
Spa?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Definitely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was super-clean, and I loved both the alternating
temperature saunas as well as the opportunity to relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just close the door to that room with all the
naked people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4274426137210778303.post-89095808973603256522013-08-12T13:59:00.000-07:002013-08-12T14:02:49.865-07:00A FOOT IN HEAVEN'S DOOR<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2J13cYeA0eAer1jdocViDr26PTbe-DHnm5DPzmSdGcRF9awGNZuaqghKLNW6Bv11IQ5ZASiwBhk43gGcgzExyKsGGTTs23zvn6ZcKSFj1r04K1UdKXubMo5qeB17yZLEgo95HB9c22V8/s1600/ugly+feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2J13cYeA0eAer1jdocViDr26PTbe-DHnm5DPzmSdGcRF9awGNZuaqghKLNW6Bv11IQ5ZASiwBhk43gGcgzExyKsGGTTs23zvn6ZcKSFj1r04K1UdKXubMo5qeB17yZLEgo95HB9c22V8/s320/ugly+feet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Air travel is a unique combination of wonder and
horror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without it, I’d be stuck in a
car or on a train for days in order to visit with family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With it, I can be holding my elfin granddaughter
within a few hours. However, there is nothing like being imprisoned in a small,
cramped space to bring out the worst in people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can someone tell me why people lose all consideration for their fellow
prisoners during travel time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I boarded a pretty full flight out of
Dulles this morning, I was quite happy that the middle seat was empty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ahhhhh…a little extra room that I hadn’t
expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still appreciated the extra space,
but the woman sitting on the end seat took that perk WWWAAAYYY too far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she first sat down, she raised her
armrest and started spreading out her belongings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s not horrible, and two can play that
game, I thought, as I quickly placed one or two things of my own there before
she could claim the entire empty seat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My bad traveling luck usually falls in the olfactory
category.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, enough with the fancy
words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something always stinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most frequent offenders have been guys who
sit with their knees splayed, creeping into my tiny leg space, before letting
loose with machine gun rounds of gas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
taken to wearing a loose, blousy headband draped around my neck that I can pull
up over my mouth and nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s not
too obvious, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The lady behind me decided to reapply her Lily of the Valley
perfume.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sickeningly sweet fumes curled
around me like that green “Night of the Living Dead” fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes it’s a combo ride, with a digestively-challenged guy sitting next to me and little boy kicking the back
of my seat for the five hour flight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
still can’t decide whether the kicks or the mother’s monotone reprimands are
worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then a nearby passenger will
unveil his or her homemade ethnic lunch that reeks of some unknown oil and
spice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Engine noise and screaming children used to wear me down
until my daughter and son-in-law were kind enough to present me with a pair of
noise reduction headphones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Auditory
problems solved.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today was a new low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I prayed to be surrounded by gassy men, over-perfumed women and Mediterranean
picnickers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My fellow traveler across
the empty seat finally cleared away her snack bags, makeup and books to stretch
out and watch some satellite television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unfortunately, she thought it was perfectly okay to remove her shoes and
put her BARE FEET within three inches of my seat edge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides the ick factor of a stranger’s
uncovered feet so close to me, well, quite frankly they smelled!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps I’m being too picky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My feet don’t always smell like a bed of roses, but who does that on a
plane?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried looking pointedly at her putrid
peds, but she was clueless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where’s that Lily of the Valley when I could
put it to some beneficial use? I bit my lip to keep from turning toward her and
saying, “Really, REALLY???”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nuns who
educated me would have told me to “offer it up”, but I don’t think I’ve done
enough bad things in my life to keep my mouth shut for another 1,074
miles.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe my seat in heaven will be one of those massaging spa pedicure
chairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Kathleen Barkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02744971844238261665noreply@blogger.com1