Hazel is Under the Weather

Hazel is ill. I found her this morning on the rug, lifeless. Oh, she has been ill before. But, overall she has always been active, discreet and dependable. Usually, each morning, I find her tucked away in her little place. She brings me great joy. She gets herself in most interesting situations. There have been times when she loses her way. I will find her in the most random places - under the sofa, by the back door, hiding in the corner. She has a habit of getting so full she can go no further. 

It is not unusual to find her tangled in charging cords, stuck under a chair, or in a tiff with one of Marshall's many toys. But, this morning was different. There she was lying there, deathly quiet, lifeless. For those of you who do not know, Hazel is my robotic vacuum cleaner. She is the best thing since sliced bread, Post-it Notes, or the Swifter Sweeper. 

For years I thought such a device was only for the privileged. Those with disposable income who saw a commercial and were determined to have the first one in the neighborhood. What an expensive toy. How could it clean, just randomly moving this way and that across the floor. 

A year or two ago I received her as a birthday present from one of my daughters. After hearing testimonies  from others about how efficient they were, I had added her to my list. The thrill of finding one's floor each morning clean without lifting a broom and dust pan is most satisfying. I have her programmed to starteach morning at 1 am. This prevents her becoming a sparring partner with Marshall.

 I am believer. I worship at her charging station. In my life, she is an angel. (Perhaps even an Archangel). She is the death of dust bunnies, dog hair, and bits of anything finds on the floor (thatthe dogs have not already consumed). She gladly takes care of a task I despise - sweeping.

When I first brought her home, I read the directions, programmed her (with her handy remote), placed her charging station under the buffet, gently placed her on it, and named her Hazel (after the delightful show I watched as a child about a funny, loud, dedicated family maid). My grand daughters are most amused. Grancurrie has a vacuum cleaner she calls Hazel. Later I found that I was not the only one who loving named their faithful device. The list of names often used includes: Jarvis, Jeeves, Rosie (re: The Jetsons), Minion, Wallie (as in Wall-E), Roberta, Rover, to name a few. And, yes, the name "Hazel" made the list.

To me, she is the 8th Wonder of the Modern World. Just like a fax machine, I do not understand how she works, but she does. How can something her size randomly know how to awake at 1 in the morning, leave her charging station and clean the floor. How can she cover the entire floor in her the random and circuitous route, weaving in and out of the legs of chairs and tables, moving on and off the rug with grace, and gliding underneath the sofa.

Each morning I pull out her dust bin, delighted in the amount of trash she has collected on her early morning tour of my den and kitchen. By this time, she is safely on her charging station. I am content to know that the following morning, she will have again completed her task, be back in her place and the floor will be clean.

Now, I need to find her user's manual and see what it suggests I do to make her better. If need be, I'm not sure where my broom is, not having used it in a year or more. I need to fix her, so my life will return to normal and my floor will be clean again. Oh, I have a conventional, large, bulky vacuum upstairs. However the idea of dragging that thing down and, heavens forbid, having to use it, is not a delightful thought. This just won't do. How did I ever live without her.

St. Columbanus , Patron Saint of Motorcyclist

 Given this is All Saints Day, I was curious to see a list of Saints. In my mind, there are saints named as Patrons for such things as Travelers (St. Christopher), Children (St. Nicolas), and Animals (St. Frances of Assisi, as well as St. Anthony of Egypt and St. Cornelius). But who knew accountants have their own saint, but low and behold they do - St. Mathew the Apostle. For all the brewers, you too are covered. In fact there is a trifecta of saints for  Brewers - St, Augustine of Hippo, St. Boniface, and St. Wenceslaus. Divorcees fear not, for you too have a patron saint watching over you - St. Helen. (Although how does one know which side she takes?)

Anesthesiologists are protected by St. Rene Goupl. Sore Eyes are assigned to St. Augustine. Volcanic Eruptions (I kid you not) are protected by St. Januarius. St. John the Baptist protects Road Workers. St. Micheal the Archangel looks over EMTs.  

Not being of the Catholic persuasion, I had no idea what exactly an "Archangel" was. I learned that he/she is the eighth order of the ninefold celestial hierarchy. The Nine Celestial Order of the Divine Angels (aka the Choir of the Angels) is made up of the Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominations, Powers, Virtues, Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. Who knew Angels themselves are on the longest rung of the totem pole (so to speak).  But, I digress.

From Skiers to Singers to Storms, there are dedicated saints watching over them. Television has 2 saints (St Claire of Assi and St. Martin de Porres), while Teenage Girls have only one (St. Maria Goretti). Lightening has a saint (St. Victor of Marseilles) and well as Large families (St. Richard ).  However, I wonder just how many children constitute a "large family".

There are saints protecting Fevers (St. Petronille), Funeral Directors (St. Joseph of Aremathia  ), and Girl Scouts (St. Agnes of Rome). St. Teresa of Alvila is assigned to Headaches and Ice Skating is watched over by St. Lidwana of Schiedam. Notaries look to St. Mark the Evangelists for protection. 

Of all the many saints,  I feel for St. Kateri (the Environment), and St. Eugene of Mazenot (Dysfunctional Families), for they have a heavy load. But, I feel a kindred spirit with Rita of Cascia, the Saint of Impossible Dreams.

All in all, there are over 10,000 saints recognized by the Catholic Church. Doing the math, it would take 27 years and 142 days to honor each of them if each was assigned a day.

 

What to Do

It's always a conundrum to me. Does one celebrate Halloween on October 31st, All Saints Day on November 1st or both. The alternative is Day of the Dead. Actually it is the "Days" of the dead.  I guess this a question of the status of one's soul.

These days Halloween has become pedestrian. It is a day to dress up, no longer in a costume of evil or jest - a witch, a ghost, the devil, a skeleton, an angel, or a clown. Gone are the days of a simple white sheet with 2 eye holes cut out! These days costumes vary from the image of a former president to characters from the latest video game to some female fashion persona from TV. It is a day of candy, plastic pumpkins, and parading up and down the neighborhood. Gone are the days of harmless tricks - someone's buggy placed atop a barn or a scarecrow redressed as a witch. Bobbing for apples is no longer part of the day.

All Saints Day is now relegated to celebrations by the Episcopal and Catholic churches. It has not changed very much over the ages. However now there are over 10,000 recognized saints - that's a lot of canonizations. The most popular perhaps being St. Michael the Archangel, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Catherine of Siena, St. Joseph, St. Valentine, St. Christopher, and  St. Patrick. Note several of those have their own celebrated days. Do the churches celebrate them in mass (no pun intended) or select a favorite few to honor?

One can celebrate either or both of these "holidays".

The alternative being the trifecta, the three Days of the Dead, celebrated October 31, November 1, and November 2. Dating back to the Middle Ages, and not coincidentally being the same time as Halloween and All Saints Day. The purpose these days is to remember family and friends who have died and to assist them on their spiritual journey. It is celebrated October 31, November 1, and November 2. These days coincide with the celebration of Allhallowtide - All Hallows Eve (Halloween) on October 31st, All Saints Day on November 1st, and All Souls Day on November 2nd.

Each of the 3 days, represents a separate celebration. October 31st is in celebration and memory of angelitos (spirits of dead children), when children build the Ofrendas (home altars with a collection of objects placed on a ritual display).  On November 1st it is believed the spirits of the adults return. Families visit and decorate the graves of their loved ones on November 2nd. Candy and toys are placed on the graves of the children and gifts for the deceased adults include Tequila, trinkets, and their loved one's favorite candy. A new addition to the celebrations are parades where family members dress in costumes of skeletons and other symbols of the dead and walk through the streets of their towns and cities. No former politicians, gaming characters, or fashion icons here.

So I guess it comes down to modern character costumes and candy, rituals of the church, or alters, visits to cemeteries, and tequila. 

It's Never too Late to Save your Soul

 What do the following have in common:

• Requieted love
• Meet Cute
• Successful / Well to do Character
• Under Dog
• Best Friend
• Sentimental Soul
• Hot Chocolate
• Snowball Fight
• Interrupted Kiss
• Abstinence 
• A misunderstanding
• Contrition
• Reunion
• Gala, Ball, Holiday Festival

If you know the answer there are support groups out there to save you. Seek one to save your soul. It is not too late. If you don't, move along, nothing to see here - bask in your ignorance.

Bah Humbug, 'tis the Season.

What's with the Poo?

 I can remember the first time I saw a Labradoodle. She was a rather large black dog with tight curly hair. Then, weeks later, I encountered a Goldendoodle. In my ignorance it looked very much like a golden Labradoodle.

Poodles are extremely smart dogs that initially had their reputations ruined by breeding down to dogs the size of cupcakes (aka Tea Cup Poodles). Unlike their large, regal looking fore-bearers, these tiny things had names like Fifi, Sassy, and Cookie. Oh, the inhumanity.

Originally, these smart German dogs (yes, German not French) were breed to be water retrievers. The name "Poodle" came from "pudel" which means to splash in water. And, there is reason for that odd haircut - a combination of a shaved dog with puffs of hair remaining. This is a traditional cut used by hunters. The dogs swim much better with a sleek cut, but the the hair around their joints and upper torso is kept to protect these parts from the cold. (And, I thought for years that it was a humiliating haircut used to look like the work of a pompous French hair designer.) 

Characteristics of the breed are described as Intelligent, Alert, Faithful, Active, Trainable, and Instinctual. Given all the sizes of the dog now (Standard, Medium, Toy, and Teacup) there is only one breed standard - the Standard (as in full size original Poodle). Fun fact: a team of poodles (standard) competed in the Iditerad Sled Race. 

But back to the demeaning new practice of cross breeding, what "they" call "Designer Dogs". Like all dog breeds, the poodle descended from a combination of Russian, German, European water dogs, including Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, Hungarian, and Russian water dogs. And, now we have 61 different poodle, poo mixes, in addition to Labradoodle and the Goldedoodle, the more popular are the Shih Poo, Schnoodle, and the Yorkiepoo.

 Poodles come in many colors: Black, Blue,Silver,Gray,Cream,White,Brown,Apricot, Cafe Au Lait (seriously?), and Silver Beige. There is also the color "Parti Poodles". Does the insanity ever end? For edification the "Parti Poodle" has a white coat with blotches of brown, red, or gray. Think of a poodle with a coat like a Brittany Spaniel. Then there is a red color that is a result of a separate gene known as the "Rufus" gene. 

I was OK with all this until last week when I ran into this lady with this huge (as in small pony size) very hairy dog. The dog was very friendly, wagging its tail, begging for attention. When I inquired about the type of dog, I was a bit taken back. "Oh, this Sweetie, she is a Sheepadoodle (as in Old English Sheep dog and a Poodle)." I commented that she was pretty and sweet.

As she and Sweetie walked away, only one thing came to my mind, "We have now jumped the shark or, rather, jumped the poodle".

A is Red and so is Sunday in Thailand

This will sound odd, but what else is new, coming from me? As long as I can remember, in my mind, I see letters in specific colors. Yes, I know I should have sought help earlier. (I'll add that to my list of things to do.)

In my mind, A is red, B is blue, C is purple, D is blue, E is a dull yellow, F is brown, G is orange, H is yellow, I is white and on it goes. OK, some folks are blessed with certain innate talents. Unfortunately, mine is mental - and not mental in the way of Einstein. But, I digress.

Speaking of assigned colors, I came upon an interesting article on Thailand. Among the unique customs of this ancient country is an interesting one of colors - one for each day of the week. On each given day of the week, Thai citizens traditionally wear the color of day. Also, everyone sees the color of the day of the week they were born on as their lucky color. There is also a Buddha assigned to each day, although I did not read anything about the Buddhas being coordinated with a color.

Assigned colors are:
Sunday –         red
Monday –        yellow/cream
Tuesday –        pink
Wednesday –   green at daytime, grey at night
Thursday –      orange/brown
Friday –           light blue
Saturday –       purple/black

And, another interesting fact is that each day also has an "unlucky" color.

 
Sunday -          blue
Monday-          red
Tuesday -         yellow & white
Wednesday       (Daytime) pink
Wednesday       (Nighttime) orange & red
Thursday          purple
Friday               blue black & dark blue
Saturday           purple & green 

Just like our days of the week are named for planets and ancient gods, the Thai culture also has a planet for each day of the week as well as a Hindu deity that protects each day are:

Sunday             Sun  - Surya
Monday            Moon - Chandra
Tuesday            Mars - Mangala
Wednesday       Daytime - Mercury Budh
Wednesday       Nighttime - Mercury Rahu
Thursday          Jupiter - Brihaspati
Friday               Venus - Shukra
Saturday           Saturn - Shani

Who knew? It is all I can do to select a color of sweater to wear each day, perhaps I should coordinate with the traditional Thai colors. Of course, I would need to change clothes twice on Wednesday. And, add some orange and brown to my wardrobe since I was born on Thursday. And, learn to avoid purple.

The Bucket List

 The Bucket List - things one wants to do before one kicks the bucket, the ultimate cliche. I happened upon the movie by the same name with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. Although, in reality, we all do not have a friend like Edward who can finance our list or Carter who can make us face reality.

All this brings to mind our ultimate demise and limited time on Earth. Is the list something one truly intends to do or just a mental exercise?  Which begs the question, when does one start checking off items on the list? Does one wait until one knows their days are numbered or does one start soon, ensuring that one gets through it. And, when is soon enough?

Also, does one share the list or keep it to one's self. In other words, does one want comment or suggestions? Or does it contain items that are personal, a little out there, maybe a bit more adventurous? Keeping it to one's self prevents judgement and unsolicited recommendations. Sharing it opens it up to explanation and justification. And, who really needs to know another's dreams and fears?

Do we start with simple things easily attainable? You know, those tasks we always put off - organizing one's desk, spending time with that great aunt who drives one crazy with unwanted advice. Do we venture off the known and get out of our comfort zone? Dining on Fugu Blowfish (from Japan), Hákarl (form Iceland), ot Locusts (from the Middle East. Do we say things that we have always wanted to say, but were brought up to be too polite to do so? Such as telling your friend that wearing caftans to dinner does nothing for her figure or mentioning to your daughter that the guy she is dating is absolutely useless and she will regret it later.

Do we go for adventure? Skydiving, for instance, personally this is no where close to my list, I have no desire to die prematurely, same for riding a Harley, or driving a race car on a NASCAR track. Life is short enough as it is. Do we travel to those far way places with strange sounding names? Or do we stay home and read all those books we have intended to finish for years now.

Do we spend money on objects we could never otherwise justify? That perfect house with the ideal kitchen, that sports car in gun metal blue, or that set of antique crystal we have admired in the store. 

Or are we sentimental and wish to spend time with those we love, make friends with those we admire from afar, show those close to us that we really care.

In reality, when the paper hits the pad, it is all personal. It is a list no one needs to justify to anyone else. It should be full of decadent pleasures, expensive items, exotic experiences, and all those things we have put off for lack of time, effort, or justification.

I'll spare you my list, especially since I do not have one (yet). After all, everyone is not ready to face mortality. Not all of us are prepared to put these dreams, desires, and regrets on paper. Seeing it in writing is cathartic enough. Soul searching and admitting there are things we wish (need) to do. Promising ourselves we will act on our intentions. Realizing, our time on this planet is limited at most, measured at best. 

The ultimate question is: Are we willing to bare our soul, justify our aspirations, and follow our dreams?

Send in the Leaves

Where are the Leaves? There ought to be Leaves. Well, maybe next year.

Autumn is the season of crisp weather, bright blue skies, long shadows, and colorful leaves. Last year, I spent much time searching for the bliss of red, yellow, and orange foliage. But, alas, I never found it. Not only was I late (the leaf change was early), the conditions were not ideal. Right then I made a pledge to myself - Never more. I was not going to live this close to the mountains and not experience the wonder of fall foliage (in color). 

So this year, I started following the foliage prediction maps early. I was prepared. I had a plan. There would be no disappointment. All predictions said this week would be the peak of the season. As it is, I have the week off (long story why, but I'll spare you the details).

Friday I was in Cashiers (elevation 3500) - no color at all. Saturday, I made my way to the parkway.  Surely there would be spectacular views. At the lower level there was no color. Well, maybe a glimpse of yellow here and there. 

 I started at the entrance by Asheville and made my way north. As the elevation increased, I spotted a bit of color. However, the traffic was ungodly. Then the mist and fog set in. If there was something to see, it was lost on me. Since there are fewer viewing areas on this part, I had to go 20 something more miles before I could turn around. But, the map said  . . . Dejected I went home. 

Sunday, I decided to catch the sunrise on the parkway past Pisgah, elevation 5,700. The 30 degree temps at dawn did not deter me. The sunrise, although a bit brisk, was spectacular. It slowly changed from mauves and purple  . . .

To brilliant oranges and gold.

As the sky lightened, I knew the view would change from the golden hues of dawn to a spectacular show of color on the hills. But, alas it was not to be. There was a bit of color amongst the green, but only enough to tease.

So I returned home and checked the prediction maps. Sure enough they still said that Cashiers and Pisgah were currently at their peak. Actually, according to "those who know", Pisgah was past its peak. All I can say is - who died and made them the experts? 

Undeterred, I decided to give it a another day or so. Perhaps one morning I will awake to find that the witch is dead and everything is in color. I doubt it, but a girl can always hope.

It's More than the Theme Song

When I think of music in the movies, two things come to mind. The first is theme song, especially if it became a commercial hit, examples being some of the award winning tunes from the Bond franchise - "For Your Eyes' Only", "Goldfinger", "All Time High" and "Live and Let Die". Most people are familiar with "Rain Drops keep Falling on my Head" from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Two of my all time favorites are "Memories" from The Way we Were and "Moon River" from Breakfast at Tiffanys. There was a wonderful song called "Moondust" from (of all movies!!) Meatballs. If you not familiar with it, and a doubt you are probably not, Google it.

The second musical memory of a movie is the overture. Whether it is the opening credits of My Fair Lady or the sweeping production at the beginning of Gone With the Wind, these compositions set the mood for the movie. Rogers and Hammerstein are probably best known for their overtures.

However, I recently realized the most important music in a film is not the theme song stuck in your mind for days or the grand orchestral production of the first minutes. It is the score. The music that sets the scenes that we rarely pay attention to, yet it is a major part of the movie going experience.

Last week I was walking and decided to "listen" to a movie. By the time I got back to my place, I was enthralled. The movie, not a block buster, but a decent film, was a totally different experience with just the dialogue and the score. Since I had seen the film several times, I was very familiar with the characters and setting. But the score, which no doubt influenced my experience the earlier times I had seen the film, was initially lost in my consciousness. However, it was this very music that carried the movie. All the action, the feelings, and suspense could be followed by just listening to the score. Now I truly appreciate the Academy Award Winners in the category of "Best Score".  

And just in case, one doesn't know the difference between a movie's theme song and its score:  "[The score] is probably so called from the vertical scoring lines that connect successive related staves. A score may contain the single part for a solo work or the many parts that make up an orchestral or ensemble composition".

When I was quite young, I remember my father explaining the concept of a movie score to me. He had me listen to the score only (no dialogue) of Peter and the Wolf. I could tell just by the music that something bad was going to happen or things were going well or there was some expectation. The music carried the emotions of the story. It was a great lesson that I put away in my mind, along with his tutorials on how to select a great book by its binding and what to look for when buying an Angus cow. 

But, like many of those valuable things Daddy taught me, I was a bit slow to really appreciate the lesson. Yes, it took me 50 something years to truly appreciate his lesson on scoring. Now I just wonder how many valuable things my father taught me that I have long forgotten or failed to appreciate at the time. 

Perhaps the lessons were much like the score of film. As I go through life they provide the background, the richness, and enjoyment of my daily experience - I am just not conscious of it. "Let's say it was the moon dust, that hides behind the moonlight, that fell and set us free with its moon dust melody."

Save it for a Rainy Day

In this week of inclement weather,  save it to the poets (and musicians) to romanticize the rain. 

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket
Never let it fade away
       Perry Como

Save it for a rainy day 

       Stephen Bishop

Here comes that rainy day feeling again 
       Cher


Here's that rainy day they told me about and I laughed 

      Barbara Streisand

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, Save it for a rainy day 

       Hi-Lo

Oo, I hear laughter in the rain, walking hand in hand with the one I love. 

      Neil Sedaka

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain? 

       Creadance Clearwater Revival


Rainy day bells play by the raindrops 

       Neil Sadaka

Kentucky rain keeps pouring down and up ahead's another town that I'll go walking through . . .
In the cold Kentucky rain 

       Elvis Presley

Smoky Mountain rain keeps on falling, I keep on calling her name 

       Ronnnie Milsap

You can thank me later for the continuous loop one these songs will stay in you head today.

A Ouija Board, a Magic Wand, and a Genie in a Bottle

 Everyone has most likely played that game of naming a list of people, well there are several of these lists. One is - If you were stranded on a dessert island, what 3 things would you want with you? Number two is - If you could have one wish what would it be? Number three is - who would be your dream guest list for a dinner party?

Obviously, these are all personal. Everyone has different answers, well except that a majority of us would ask for unlimited money somewhere in here. As for me, I have thought about these queries long and hard over many years.

For the first, I would want a Ouija Board, a Magic Wand, and a Geni in a bottle. The magic wand just a back up in case the Geni is uncooperative. 

My one wish would not be world peace, contrary to that desire of many Miss America Finalists. I would request the ability (and resources) to travel anywhere I wanted at anytime.

As for the dinner party, this is my favorite. There are 2 categories alive and dead. The list of those still in the here and now would include: Annie Leibovitz, Kevin Costner, Dr. Nan Morrison (one of my college English Lit professors), a certain young man I didn't date in high school but should have (whose name I will not reveal),  John Martin Taylor (a well known Charleston chef who penned "Straighten up and Fry Right" aka The Fearless Frying Cookbook), Ted Turner, and Aaron Sorkin.

The list of those who have passed would include my father (a true Renaissance man of his time), my Auntie (a favorite Great Aunt of mine who cussed like a sailor, smoked Salems, and always had a great story), Bill Lynch (a family friend who epitomized a gentleman from an old Charleston family who introduced me to good Gin and Cointreau at the age of 15), Dr. Frampton (the minister of the Presbyterian Church I attended as a child), Cokie Roberts, and Judge Blane Michael (the funniest white man I ever knew).

When you have a quiet moment, I suggest you make your own lists. I cannot speak for everyone, but it put my life in perspective. And, although I doubt any of these wishes will come true, I can always dream.