Tea Party

The scones and tea are on the table (you'll forgive a girl for adding a wee dram of Tullamore Dew to her tea, won't you?) and you're all invited for a cozy visit. The overstuffed chair is open to the first guest to arrive, but don't worry if you run a bit behind schedule - you're still welcome, and there's an overstuffed couch to match.

Feel free to take the conversation where you will - I just want to natter with my friends today. Here's a topic to start off the convivial chatter:

What's your favorite book of all time, and why? Feel free to wax long in your answers. Here's mine:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. What does this selection tell you about me? I guess it says that I am essentially a romantic at heart, but something of a common-sense romantic.

I think Mr. Darcy was my first love. What feminine heart could resist a gentleman who showed such tenderness and caring toward his beloved? I love the way Austen painted first his outline - the proud, reserved man who inspired anger and seemed difficult to like - then fleshed him out as a thoughtful man who overcame his character flaw out of love. His actions spoke more about his love than his words. Yes, I've noted the overuse of the word, "love," in this paragraph. Vive l'amour!

I share Elizabeth Bennett's strong sense of the absurd, as well as her taste for simple pleasures (the company of good friends, a walk in the country). I sympathize with her embarrassment over the foibles of her family, and her sober understanding of the implications of their behavior. And then, of course, Mr. Darcy comes to her rescue!

If you've never read the book, the BBC mini-series of P&P is well worth viewing. Actually, there is more than one BBC version of this story. As Virginia Gal will know, I'm speaking of the version starring Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. This was my first DVD purchase, bought the day I bought the DVD player. In fact, I'm staying home alone on Monday, so perhaps I'll dig it out...

I have to note another favorite book. This one's a novel, with all of the delicious nuances conjured by the word. It's a book called Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon. It's the first in a series of books by this author about the same characters. Outlander is a combination time travel/historical fiction/romantic bodice-ripper that is a cut above all of the rest. It begins in Scotland just after World War II, then takes you back through time to the era of Bonnie Prince Charlie.

Outlander is well done, not at all a cheesy dimestore novel. Gabaldon invokes longing better than any author I've read. Her attention to detail is amazing, as is her writing, and the characters haunt you long after you close the cover on the final chapter of the book. I also fell in love with Jamie Fraser (shhh, don't tell). I must confess to something of a weakness for strong Celtic men (the second DVD I bought was The Quiet Man). But then, I have a fair amount of Celtic heritage to claim for myself, so I suppose it stands to reason...

OK, this one-sided conversation is getting old, so join in, please! No holds barred, and just because I'm an incurable (though common-sense) romantic doesn't mean that I expect only discussion of romantic works from you.

By the way, has anybody seen my copy of Outlander? I think I loaned it to someone. Oh well, time for a visit to amazon.com!

Snicker Doodles

Thanks to Miss Magnolia, I can once again smell something like fresh baked Snicker Doodles cookies. My vintage bottle of Eau Fresh by Jovan (discontinued) arrived in the mail this week. I am happy to report that it was sent promptly, was received in good condition, and it smells divine. I've already bid on another bottle - wish me luck!

Thank you, Miss Magnolia, for helping me to reconnect with the essence of my past!

Vignette

I remember idyllic summers spent working at camp. I recall surroundings full of natural beauty. Acres of woodlands led to a bluff, which dropped off to a wide-pathed river, and the river flowed on to the Chesapeake Bay. I wandered those woods alone sometimes, confident in their safety. I loved to sit on the edge of the bluff, day or night, watching distant ships and sailboats navigate the river - commerce and pleasure mingling on the waterway. The night sky was worthy of every romantic description you've ever heard: the stars were diamonds sparkling against deep blue velvet; breathtaking in number; close enough to pluck from the sky.

Sitting alone in such surroundings feeds the farthest reaches of my soul, quells its deepest longings for the moment. It brings a serenity so powerful and personal that it is difficult to discuss it with others, even friends and lovers, because it gives a glimpse of my elemental, unencumbered, unguarded, unfettered self. I don't like to show that side of myself to others very often; it's too vulnerable, and I don't trust enough. So many people seem to have lost the capacity for this deep pleasure, and showing the face of it to someone who cannot understand can take it from pleasure to humiliation.

I have neglected this primal core all too readily as I have aged. I can count (and describe in detail) the few times I've felt this way in the last half-dozen years. It seems that it has become harder and harder to find a spot which allows for withdrawal from the goings-on of mankind. I was so rich back then, living in an open-air cabin, with no electricity or running water. I had a rickety dresser full of shorts and t-shirts and sweats, and a pair or two of flip-flops and sneakers. I had the same old dark brown sleeping bag I'd used since second grade. My prized possessions were a battery-powered lantern, a notebook and a camp sweatshirt. But I lived for the span of each summer on a spot any billionaire would have been proud to own, and it allowed for privacy, which is the greatest luxury of all in our teeming world.

I don't know whether or not it's possible to share such a moment with someone else. I have not. Having another person present seems to take me out of the elemental world. I become aware of myself, less free to be open.

Well, enought of this serious stuff. It's making Jane a Dull Girl. X my heart, next post will be in a lighter vein. Count on it!

June Bug

Photo from classicmoviemusicals.com

I've got the June bug right now. A co-worker mentioned to me today that her cousin taught at my high school while I was a student there. I had to pull out my yearbooks to look for him, which sent me on a trip down memory lane.

Today is the anniversary of my high school graduation. I won't say which anniversary, of course, but June 20th is the day. I guess all of the June weddings and graduations pretty much ensure that it will be a month full of memories for most people.

When I walked away from the school grounds for the last time that day, I parted from some folks whom I had known almost all of my life, many of whom I have never seen again. In some ways, graduation was a knife that severed me from my childhood and the security of the well-known, setting me on a completely new and unfamiliar course in life.

One person I completely lost touch with was my friend Scott. Even though we went to different grade schools, Scott and I met in 3rd or 4th grade because of band. We were part of the same school district, and we were bussed to regional band practice every week. Scott and I became fast friends. We sat next to each other because we played the same instrument,which we considered to be quite lucky.

Scott gave me my first copy of Gone With the Wind, and he took me to see the movie for the first time. Actually, he gave me the book the night he took me to see the movie (his mom drove, we were that young). Sound romantic? Nah - just friends. Our timing was really rotten. When one of us would be smitten, the other would be engaged elsewhere, or just not interested.

Things kind of culminated in our Sophomore year of high school. Scott wrote me a romantic note and passed it to me in English class. I was completely unprepared for it at the time, and I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't have much experience in dealing with these things back then. Shucks, still don't!

I had an unexpected sense of betrayal. I felt like my brother had sent the note. To make matters worse, Scott had broken up with one of my best friends awhile before. Quite awhile before, actually, but I knew that she still hoped to win him back. It never happened, of course. I think I knew at the time that he had only dated her because I already had a boyfriend.

Scott was the friend I talked to on the phone until the wee hours on summer nights before my Frosh and Soph years. We talked about books and movies and all kinds of stuff, and we had the same group of friends. Scott grew up in the north, like me, but he would have made a perfect southern gentleman.

Anyway, long story short, our friendship was never the same. We still had some fun times after that, but the closeness was gone. I ran into Scott once in the mall after graduation. I was so glad to see him, but he seemed a bit tense, and far too serious for my jovial, outgoing buddy of the past. I've never seen him since, though I believe he has been involved in some local theater not far from our stomping grounds. He was quite the thespian when we were in high school. Scott had a gift for musical comedy, and he was excellent as the king in The Princess and the Pea.

Scott called me Polly (not anything like my real name), and he inscribed my yearbook that way. I nearly shed a tear when I read it tonight. I hope I see him again one day. We were kindred spirits then, and I'd like to think we still would be now.

Somehow my June Bug post has turned into the tale of one long lost friend. What's your June Bug tale?

Intermezzo

I'm in a pretty nice place in life right now. I seem to be getting a rejuvenating break from the ordinary. I feel well most of the time, thanks in part to improved diet and in part to treatment for my medical condition. I am more interested in going places and doing things, and I am happier.

My family is well, and Mom has recovered nicely from her cataract surgery. She can see from the left eye again, and she has new glasses on the way.

I am finally beginning to feel some degree of confidence about the new job responsibilities I took on 6 months ago. I really like my boss, though it's likely that he will supervise me for just a few more months. The Big Changes coming up toward the end of the year at work will add to my workload, and the supervisory structure for my area will change. Oh well, can't have everything.

I had a nice evening out with the girls last week (hey, Zelda and Mommanator). We had a great time over Southwestern food and ice cream. Well, in my case, almost ice cream. Sugar and fat free. It was pretty awful, and I only had a bite. But I digress.

I went to an all day training on Friday, which provided me with a rare opportunity to feel like a professional. The company was good, since a few of my favorite coworkers attended as well. Breakfast and lunch were provided, and there was a truly marvelous dessert at the end of the day. I only had 2 bites, but it was beyond description. Sensual. Chocolate raspberry mousse on a chocolate cookie crust, with chocolate ganache over the whole. As I said, sensual. A good chocolate dessert, especially one that includes raspberries, is beyond compare. It is BETTER THAN S...well, it's just better than anything.

I had a blast on Saturday night. We went to Scannicchio's in Atlantic City for a sumptuous meal with another couple. The cosmo before dinner was pretty good, too. Then we went on to The Quarter at the Trop, where we did a little barhopping (another cosmo at Cuba Libre, and a Magner's at Ri Ra). We had a designated driver, so all was well.

It was a great night to be at The Quarter, since there were lots of bachelorette parties underway. Nothing wild, just lots of truly beautiful girls wandering around. This kept the guys busy so that we (the ladies) could peek at the masculine eye candy available. Everything went right on Saturday, from getting a table at Scannichio's (when by rights we should not have been seated without a reservation) to getting seats for the ladies at both clubs.

I'm not much of a party girl, and I can get kind of uncomfortable in cities, but on Saturday night, I felt like I owned the place. I think we'll spend more time getting to know AC in the future. I've already bought tickets for a show later this summer. Now for our little secret: we left the city by 9:00. So what if we're earlybirds? We still had a great time, and we plan to go back soon.

I like the rythm of my life right now. A little work, a little play, and some time with friends. There's a lot going on this summer, which gives me hope that this little intermezzo of mine will turn into a complete renaissance.

Scents and Sensibility

Every now and then, I go in search of a new perfume to buy. I never seem to be able to find a scent that smells right on me. There are many that smell wonderful to me in the bottle, but when I try them on, they all seem too sweet, or too strong or just plain awful.

There was once a perfect scent. It was remarkably inexpensive. It was called Eau Fresh, and it was made by Jovan. It was sold in drugstores everywhere. It is not to be confused with Eau Fraiche by Elizabeth Arden. Sadly, Eau Fresh was discontinued more than a decade ago. Had I known in advance, I would have bought a lifetime supply and stored it in a dark, temperature controlled closet. Tragically, I found out the hard way that Jovan no longer produced it.

For all of these years, I have hoarded a shaker of Eau Fresh talcum powder. It carries the scent, which is reminiscent of freshly baked snicker doodles. I broke it out this week, and I've been using it. I still love it. The aroma of the talc doesn't last as long as the cologne's did, but it's essentially the same. You know how some smells can shoot an electric charge through you, and send you back to relive bits of the past? This scent holds that power over me. It brings back memories of some of the best years of my life, and it makes me yearn for those times.

When the talc runs out, the search will begin anew. I've had brief affairs with Chanel Allure and another perfume called Goldleaf and Hydrangea, and I've flirted with a few other brands, but I have yet to find something that could be my new signature scent.

Any suggestions???

Snack Time

In some ways a blog is like a Dagwood Special sandwich. The layers build up, and it develops a character of its own from the unique blending of flavors. Each post is an added slice of meat or cheese, a topping, a seasoning or a slice of bread. As layers are added, the composition of the sandwich tells you more and more about the person who crafted it. The sandwich will never define the person, but it gives you a glimpse into their heart's desires.

My friend Pax's sandwich is genuine, warm, funny, inviting and just slightly irreverent. It balances bitter with a generous dash of sweet, and it spreads the love around (just like Pax).

Virginia Gal's sandwich is honest and feminine and full of youthful spirit. I'm not using the word 'youthful' to describe age or maturity. I'm describing something that will always be lively - never old or dull. It's flavor is a little bit exotic to me because Virginia Gal's background and experiences (world traveller that she is) are so different from mine.

Joe T.'s sandwich gets 3 c's; it is colorful, clever and creative. It has many unusual elements - Dagwood would be sure to be puzzled by some of the unique flavors found in that sandwich! Joe's most recent post (Every Picture Tells a Story) sounds eerily like something I might have written myself. The voice feels like mine to me, only better (after all, Joe is a published author). Joe, I don't start massive projects like your photo DVD because I would never sleep if I did. Literally.

Anyway, you get the idea. I have to stop by these blogs (and several others) for a nibble each day, and I never seem to get full!

I think my own sandwich has been a bit dull lately - turkey breast on dry white bread,with not too many layers or new flavors added. I'm feeling a bit spicier these days, so maybe that will be reflected here! I know I've tried to stop building my sandwich (OK, my blog - the sandwich thing is getting tired) a few times, but I always come back to it. Some posts are gone forever because I took the blog down once or twice. I don't really even know my blog's birthdate because of that. I think I started it almost a year ago, sometime in July or August of 2005.

No matter that I don't know the Room's 'born on' date. It's become a place where I can be my real self, or a place for the self I aspire to be, or even a place to try on a new hat for a day. Maybe sometime soon I'll try being my bad self ;) ! I've surprised my very private self by giving very personal glimpses into my life at times, the post just below this one being a prime example of that.

Well, enough of this sentimental stuff. Anybody got a glass of milk? It's snack time; I'm off to visit a few friends for a nosh!

Oh, and Miss Magnolia is the fine, heady wine that brings class, and elegance, and a touch of orgasmic laughter (there's the bad self; don't blink, you'll miss her) to the everyday blog. Every blog is a gourmet delight with a draught of Magnolia!

Conversation Pit...

...pituitary, that is.

I found out a few months ago that I am diabetic. My endocrinologist gave me the diagnosis based on blood test results. My other physicians were more apt to say that my sugar was, "A little high." They all agreed that diet was the only way to manage my condition. I have complied and my blood sugar is now in the normal range.

Oddly enough, I did not go to see the endocrinologist because of the blood sugar problem. I went because, after many years of symptoms, one of my MDs had decided to check some hormone levels. One level was off (I wonder just how long it's been that way) and he referred me to the endocrinologist, "Just to be sure that there isn't a tiny cyst on your pituitary."

I expected to discuss hormones on my first visit to the endocrinologist. Instead, I was socked with, "You're diabetic," with the offhand addition of, "Let's get some more bloodwork, if the other level is still off, we'll get an MRI."

Fast forward through blood tests and an MRI (which was kinda cool and futuristic, and oddly relaxing) to the follow-up appointment. I had done my research and I was prepared for what the doctor had to say. Given my blood test results and my symptoms, I had already figured out that I had a pituitary tumor. It just took the doctors awhile to firm up to the diagnosis. I also thought it was likely that my type of tumor would be relatively simple to treat, with the expectation of a good outcome, though I wanted confirmation.

My endocrinologist provided the confirmation I wanted. She stressed that the tumor is not cancerous. The tumor actually produces the hormone that is throwing things off for me. She prescribed some medication to block the effects of the overproduced hormone and to shrink the tumor. All good news.

The statistics on pituitary tumors are somewhat staggering. Up to 25% of the population may have such a tumor, most of them undiagnosed, asymptomatic, and clinically insignificant. Most require no treatment and never cause problems. They are frequently discovered during MRI of the brain for another reason (such as sinus problems or concussion) or during autopsies. I am one of the rare few to have a functional pituitary tumor. Fortunately, mine is small and easy to treat.

For those of you who can't remember much about the pituitary, it is a gland the size of a large pea. It is nestled into the brain, in a cavity called the sella turcica. The pituitary is the master gland, the big boss telling the rest of our glands and organs what to do. When the chemical messengers (hormones) it dispatches are out of whack, life can change dramatically.

Pituitary tumors can cause an array of symptoms related to overproduction or underproduction of hormones. They can also cause problems (headaches, visual impairments, etc.) due to mass effect. Mass effect is pressure from the tumor (or mass) itself, and is often seen with larger tumors. These larger tumors can require surgical intervention, with varying degrees of success.

I probably would not be posting this if it were not that I am doing well. Better than ever, in fact, since I have chosen a healthier lifestyle now. The medication has been good to me, and my hormone levels are normal at this time. My sugar is in the normal range, too. All medication has side effects, and I'm working with one or two of those, but it beats the alternative. Both the pituitary situation and the sugar level will require monitoring. Thank God for medical insurance.

So why am I posting this? Here is my point: if you are experiencing any symptoms that could be caused by a hormone imbalance, ask for a screening of all of your hormone levels. Doctors are quick to prescribe medications for depression, anxiety, headaches and many other symptoms without checking for a biological root to the problem.

I mean no disrespect to physicians, and this post represents my opinion based on my experience. I can appreciate how difficult it must be to properly diagnose a patient, and family doctors just don't know that much about the subtleties of pituitary disorders. I give a great deal of credit to one of my physicians because he did pursue further testing. He listened to me, and he didn't take the easy road by saying that it was all just a midlife crisis.

I most emphatically do not want to frighten anyone into thinking they have a pituitary disorder. The vast majority of those who have pituitary tumors will never have a moment's trouble with them. It also behooves me to point out that endocrine disorders can have a variety of causes, not just pituitary tumors.

One small benefit to all of this: I got to see pictures of my brain. How many people can make that claim? OK, quite a few, I'm sure, now that MRI is so common. But it's still pretty cool! And, yes, there actually was some grey matter between my ears and behind my eyeballs...

Some conditions that can be caused by pituitary tumors:

ACROMEGALY
AMENORRHEA
CUSHING'S SYNDROME
GROWTH HORMONE DISORDERS
HYPOGONADISM
HYPOPITUITARISM
HYPERPROLACTINEMIA
HYPERTHYROIDISM

Links to information about pituitary disorders:

http://www.pituitarydisorder.net/pituitary_conditions_treatments.html

http://pituitary.mgh.harvard.edu/

http://www.pituitary.org/

http://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/pituitary_tumors/pituitary_tumors.htm

http://www.cancer.gov/templates/doc.aspx?viewid=6bbb152e-faf4-4a7b-a15d-5b0e42de3962&sectionid=10&version=0#Section_65

http://www.answers.com/topic/pituitary-adenoma

Small Sacrifices

I drove myself to my wedding, oh so many years ago. We had both the ceremony and the reception at an oceanside hotel, a true grand old dame by the sea. I had a room at the hotel for the day, so I schlepped my gown and my gear off early that fall morning.

On the drive to my wedding, a red-winged blackbird flew into the windshield of my car. I hit it, it died. Anyone who knows me knows that I love animals, both furry and feathered. This was not the way to start my wedding day, but meltdown was not an option. I decided that the bird's death was a unwitting sacrifice, similar to the sacrifices made on important ceremonial occasions in many religious traditions of the past. I would never choose to sacrifice any living creature (let alone my own child - I still struggle with the story of Abraham and Isaac), but I felt that the fact of the bird's sudden demise might as well carry some meaning.

I took my mom for cataract surgery last week. We went to see Will again, at his place on the Jersey side (Will's Eye Surgical Center). Mom is blind in the right eye now, and the surgery was intended to restore much of the missing sight to the left eye. All went well, and we were on the way back to Mom's house by about 11:00am. Along the way, a blue jay flew out of a tree and hit the windshield of my car. It was over so quickly that I barely knew what had happened. I resurrected the sacrifice theory as the best way of framing the incident.

With the occasional figurative sacrifice to supplement the one of the bird on my wedding day, my marriage has turned out well. Perhaps the unsolicited sacrifice of another small creature, once again on a day of significance, is a portent of further blessings ahead. Perhaps the blue jay, with its bold spirit, is a fitting emblem of the courage and strength needed for what lies ahead.

Enivrez-Vous

I came across this poem some time ago. I meant to post it, but I never did. Here it is in the French first, then in translation. I'm posting the French because the poem sounds better, has a more beautiful cadence, in French. The English translation also has a punchiness that I like, so it's worthwhile, too.


Enivrez-Vous
Charles Baudelaire

Enivrez-Vous
Il faut être toujours ivre.
Tout est là:
c'est l'unique question.
Pour ne pas sentir
l'horrible fardeau du Temps
qui brise vos épaules
et vous penche vers la terre,
il faut vous enivrer sans trêve.
Mais de quoi?
De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu, à votre guise.
Mais enivrez-vous.
Et si quelquefois,
sur les marches d'un palais,
sur l'herbe verte d'un fossé,
dans la solitude morne de votre chambre,
vous vous réveillez,
l'ivresse déjà diminuée ou disparue,
demandez au vent,
à la vague,
à l'étoile,
à l'oiseau,
à l'horloge,
à tout ce qui fuit,
à tout ce qui gémit,
à tout ce qui roule,
à tout ce qui chante,
à tout ce qui parle,
demandez quelle heure il est;
et le vent,
la vague,
l'étoile,
l'oiseau,
l'horloge,
vous répondront:
"Il est l'heure de s'enivrer!
Pour n'être pas les esclaves martyrisés du Temps,
enivrez-vous;
enivrez-vous sans cesse!
De vin, de poésie ou de vertu, à votre guise."

Get Drunk

Always be drunk.
That's it!
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time's horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness
of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
"Time to get drunk!
Don't be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"

Tiers of Tears

Don't we already hate tiered cable tv services enough? I just read an article at CNN.com about the plans of the telecom giants to develop a tiered internet. Owners of websites who pay additional fees will receive greater bandwidth, allowing their sites to load faster and deliver smoother streaming content. Those who do not pay up will become the slow drones we all remember from our dial-up days.

The article notes that wealthy, established companies will have the advantage over start-ups with this type of system. The potential impact on the public in general and bloggers in particular is also noted:

"Google and Amazon and Yahoo are not going to slice those payments out of their profit margins and eat them," says Ben Scott, policy director for Free Press, a nonprofit group that monitors media-related legislation. "They're going to pass them on to the consumer. So I'll end up paying twice. I'm going to pay my $29.99 a month for access, and then I'm going to pay higher prices for consumer goods all across the economy because these Internet companies will charge more for online advertising."

Worse still,Scott argues, the plan stands to sour your Web experience. If, for instance, your favorite blogger refused to ante up, her pages would load more slowly on your computer than would content from Web sites that had paid the fees.

Under this system, surfing the web might go something like this: check the news at cnn.com, check the scores at msnbc.com, stop over at weather.com to plan for the morning commute - no problem, you cruise on through, since the wealthy parent companies of these sites have paid for top-tier delivery. Next, try to stop over at your favorite blog, or visit your neighbor's fledgling online cottage industry. Suddenly, you're back to the days of the World Wide Wait.

It seems to me that a tiered system would allow the telecoms to charge for their services twice. It would allow them to charge the consumer for faster access, but only to sites owned by corporations or individuals who had also paid for faster delivery. Pretty sweet deal for the telecom giants, if you ask me.

Personally, I see this as an affront to those of us who pay through the nose for broadband. The selling point with broadband is faster access to the internet, not to select, highly commercial parts of the internet. This is not the web as we know it now, and tiered service is not something I'd take kindly to. No thanks. I'd opt out.

They're Here

Each year when the tourists return to the shore area, the locals give one another a significant look and, through clenched teeth, utter the well-known quote from the movie Poltergeist:

They're Here.

Here we are again, we've tapped the keg on another Memorial Day Weekend. I'm not sure that anyone remembers the true reason for Memorial Day anymore. Isn't it simply a three day weekend to kick off the summer spending frenzy? Look at the newspaper inserts this weekend : pools, beach towels, garden supplies, hotdogs, hamburgers, ice chests and patio umbrellas. The message is clear: this is a time to celebrate - to start the tan, to show off the new swimsuit, to barbeque and drink beer. Did I hear someone say something about remembering those who have died in our nation's service? Surely not, that would be too grave, too somber a thought to interject into our national playtime!

Driving home from work yesterday, I found myself in a modern wagon train of SUV's, RV's and travel trailers, all headed for the shore resorts. High fuel prices have not slowed gasoline consumption one iota. That would be Un-American.

So from behind clenched teeth and a with an oh-so-fake smile, let me tell you that THEY'RE HERE. While we have plans for the weekend, they in no way involve beaches or restaurants or touristy things. Good Americans that we are, we have a party to go to tonight and a barbeque tomorrow. Monday will be a quiet, stay-at-home kind of a day. I promise to take some time out to say a prayer for those who have died to ensure our freedom.

Delinquent!

I received a Notice of Delinquency today from the Grand Pooh-Bah of the World Wide Web (subcategory: blogosphere). I risk revocation of my blogging license, and A Room Somewhere will be dismantled and the furnishings sold at auction to the highest bidder, if I do not produce a post forthwith, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. (I always hear Yul Brynner's voice, in character as King Mongkut in The King and I, when I encounter the word "etcetera," especially when it's presented in triplicate. But I digress.)

I wish I could claim that my life has been so eventful, romantic and intriguing that there has been no time of late for mere blog composition. Well, I suppose I could say it, but it would be a sorry lie. Make that the sorriest of lies. No, life has been so mundane and uneventful lately that I have not been able to come up with a single original idea to drive me to put figurative pen to virtual paper. Life is not bad right now, just ordinary and lacking in inspiration.

The highlights of the last week or so include:

Highlight One - Dinner out at the Tuscan Tavern (I think that's the name of the place) over the weekend with my husband and his sister in celebration of her birthday. OK, in all honesty, the stars of the meal were the 2 Tuscatinis I had with my dinner.

(Aside to Maidink: I highly recommend a potent variety of martini, or even just shot or two of vodka, in situations like your recent Mother's Day fiasco.)

With a nod to my at-risk blogging license (gotta toe the line for awhile), and in honor of the Truth-in-Fiction Act (10-46:167a), I should note that I am not a common tippler by any means. No, wait, that didn't come out quite as planned. I am not commonly caught tippling. No-no-no, that makes me sound like a closet drinker. OK,OK - I don't drink much and I don't drink often, how's that? But there's no denying that a well-timed glass of vino or a delightful little cosmo can take the edge off of a stressful outing.

Highlight Two - Watching the Stephen King TV movie last night. The company (my hubby) made all of the difference. It was like a date.

OK, so now that you've seen what really makes Jane a dull girl, I'll sign off and get some beauty sleep, in preparation for more creative blogging ahead!

On Spontaneity

On Thursday afternoon at about 3pm, I was sitting quietly at my desk at the office, diligently attacking a pile of paper to be processed. The phone rang. It was my husband. The conversation was pretty much one-sided:

Him: Hi, how are you? J-- has tickets for the Phillies tonight.
Me: OK, you're going with him? (Why else would he be calling me at work to tell me his friend has tickets?)
Him: No, his daughter has a game tonight, so he can't go. (That's why...uh-oh).
Me: (Hopefully) OK, so, you're gonna ask L--- or G---?
Him: It's too late to ask them. Can you get home a little early? If we could eat a fast sandwich and get out of the house by about 5:30, we could make it on time...
Me: But it's going to rain tonight. Heavy, flooding rains. (Again with the hopefulness) Won't they cancel the game?
Him: If we get there and it's cancelled, we can just go home. I'll do all of the driving. (Oh, yeah, that's comforting.)

And so began an exercise in spontaneity. Can you hear me thinking, "Oh, joy - drive an hour home from work, then an hour and a half to Philly, so that we can turn around and come home when Accuweather gets it right?"

While I don't mind going to the ballpark once in awhile, I'm not exactly a fan. I took a magazine with me, to read in the rain. And it did rain. There was a light, misty rain off and on throughout the first four innings. The hardy folks in front of us kept their umbrellas up most of the time, which meant that I couldn't see the field at all. You pay for good seats, then you can't see the game because the folks in front of you will melt like the Wicked Witch of the West if the slightest bit of moisture touches them. The LLBean waterproof anoraks they wore weren't enough to protect them from the mist, oh no.

The most dramatic moment came early in the first inning, when Aaron Rowand took on a fence to make an amazing catch. It wasn't raining at that moment, but the folks in front of us stood up as soon as the ball was airborn, so I still couldn't see a thing. I saw the replay, and I watched him walk off of the field with a towel over his face.

In the 4th inning, my husband points out that the game can be called after the 5th and still count. If the Phillies are still leading after the opposing team bats in the top of the 5th, then the game can end at that point as a win for the Phils.

It so happened that the Mets were still behind after the top of the 5th. This conversation ensued:

Him: I want a hotdog. I'm gonna go get a hotdog. I have to have one.
Me: But what if they call the game? I won't be able to find you?
Him: I'll come right back here if they call it.
Me: But, but...
Him: It's only drizzling. They won't call it for drizzle. I'm gonna get a hotdog.

Translation: If I want a hotdog, I better get it now. They might call the game, then it'll be too late!

He walks away. The sky opens up and it pours. The field crew pulls out the tarp. Fortunately, I have the umbrella, as I stand there in the rain, watching the stands empty and waiting for my husband to return. And waiting and waiting and waiting. I give up and head for the concession area to look for him. When I finally find him:

Me (grabbing his sleeve): I'm soaked, we're going home.
Him: But I still haven't had a hotdog! And it might stop raining. This is just a delay. J-- was here last year when they had a 2 hour delay.

(2 hours???)
Me: Please! One of us has to work tomorrow, and it isn't you! And I'm soaked. Wawa sells hotdogs.
Him: It's not the same. I want a hotdog. C'mon, lets get one, then we can go...

In the end, I'm glad I went. It took an effort to be spontaneous, but, between the raindrops, we managed to have a good time. Personally, I prefer to visit the ballpark during a May rainshower to visiting during the dog days of August. There is no escaping the Philly heat and humidity at Citizen's Bank Park on a brutal August evening. Philly didn't install air conditioning in the concession area, as Baltimore so sensibly did at Camden Yards. So maybe I've paid the spontaneity toll for this year, and I won't have to go back when things heat up late in the summer.

Yeah, right.

Once Upon a Time...

The first popular song I remember from my childhood is, These Boots Were Made for Walkin', by Nancy Sinatra. Interesting song for a young 'un to listen to, wouldn't you say? I had a 45 rpm single play record of this song - the kind that needed the adapter pictured on the left in order to be played on the hi-fi.

I also had the single of, Those Were the Days, My Friend, by Mary Hopkins, on the Apple lable. You know the song (if you're old enough) - it started out, "Once upon a time, there was a tavern, Where we used to raise a glass or two." Again, odd musical choice for a toddler. That yellow adapter looked pretty funny right smack dab in the middle of that green granny smith apple!

Another song I remember from that era is, Little Becky's Christmas Wish. It was a tearjerker about a little girl who wanted her big brother to come home from Viet Nam for Christmas. I don't think he made it.

I took a musical trip down memory lane at You Tube last night and looked up the following songs:

Hooked on a Feeling - This one was originally by Blue Swede; the version at You Tube is by David Hasselhoff (what's up with that?), but it sounded pretty much the same, and the video had dachshunds in it!

Bohemian Rhapsody - by Queen. I still love the tight harmonies and the rock opera presentation.

I Started a Joke - by the Bee Gees. I still only partly get the joke.

Surrender and The Dream Police - by Cheap Trick

I even visited my least favorite song of all time. It gave me a frisson of nostalgic repulsion right from the very first strains: Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I used to cringe when they played it at a dance - it went on forever and ever, and it was virtually impossible for anyone to dance to it.They always requested it, though, with cries from the crowd of, "Play Freebird! Play Freebird!" Ugh. Sorry to all of the Skynyrd fans out there. Just hated this one. It grated on me from the very first time I heard it. Sweet Home Alabama was much easier to take.

I could never quite bring myself to like Stairway to Heaven, either. I know, I know, I'm a traitor to my generation. Another awful song: The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson.

I couldn't find anything by The Cars at You Tube, but I went through a distinct Cars phase.

I was able to find the first music video I remember watching - Don't Stand So Close To Me by The Police. I checked out a little Blondie (Call Me!) and the Eurythmics (Annie Lennox singing Sweet Dreams). I even listened to a short version of Macarthur Park (hey, it beats Freebird any day in my book).

To give credit to the late 80's, I looked up Simply Red's, If You Don't Know Me By Now (it was big when I was dating my husband). I kept trying to remember Don Henley's, The End of the Innocence - it sat at the back of my mind like a shadow or a ghost that disappeared when I tried to look directly at it. If finally popped into my head tonight, when I least expected it.

There was a song by John Cougar Mellencamp that was big in the late 80's, too - I can see a bit of the video in my mind, but I can't quite remember it. Any thoughts from the peanut gallery?

When I speak of today's music, I have begun to echo the things my mother said to me a couple of decades (or so) ago:

1. They don't make music like the did in my day, and

2. It all sounds the same.

I could go on for hours, picking out tunes from the past and reliving moments of my life to them. What were your favorites, and which one gets your vote for worst song of all time?

Question of the Week

If you knew the world was going to end before the next billing cycle, how would you max out your credit cards?

A Room With a View, the novel

No, the title of this post does not imply that I intend to compose another long missive about the view of the natural world from the window of A Room Somewhere. What I plan to discuss, briefly, is the novel I finished reading this week, A Room With A View by EM Forster.

Forster uses the tale of Lucy Honeychurch, a British young woman on the brink of maturity, to explore issues of social class and propriety. There is a hint of an Austen-like tension between common sense and folly, though Forster does not quite have Austen's light touch or subtle wit. Still, his characters, who start out seeming like stylized caricatures, develop unexpected complexity and insight by the final pages of the book.

In Forster's writing, as in Austen's, people of good sense reign themselves in from mindless adherence to fashionable views and practices. Self-worth and lifelong happiness are valued over social climbing. The novel might seem senseless or odd to those unfamiliar with the mores of the period when it was written (1908). I found in it to be a surprisingly enlightened view of women and their capabilities, considering that it was penned by a male author in the Edwardian era. The story line takes a pleasantly unexpected turn or two, as well.

I saw the Merchant-Ivory movie version of this tale (starring Helena Bonham Carter, Julian Sands and Maggie Smith) when it was released on video several years ago. To the best of my recollection, the screenplay, was faithful to the novel, though some of the nuances of character might not have made it onto the big screen. I plan to rent the DVD sometime soon for a renewed comparison.

This, That, 'n' Other Things

Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo, so, of course, there will be yet another food fest at work. Ay Carumba!

Ever since the doctor told me a couple of months back that my sugar level is creeping up (yes, there is diabetes in my family, so I have to be careful), it seems like there has been nothing but one pig-out after another around the office. I'm going to contribute something to the fete, in the spirit of the day, but I might not stick around the office for lunch.

I had a bit of a Mexican gastronomic cheat tonight. We ate out, and I partook of the chips and salsa, so I really must behave myself tomorrow. At least salsa has some redeeming nutritional value.

Putting my plans to abstain into print helps, since some of the folks at work drop by my blog from time to time. In the spirit of love and generosity (haha) they'll be more than glad to remind me if I should be caught with a taco or a piece of cake.

Between the sugar thing and some other stuff (mostly the other stuff), I've been feeling pretty lousy lately. There has been improvement, though, and I don't have headaches every day anymore.

Still, I felt bad enough to stay home on Tuesday. Every morning this week has been a struggle, and I'll be glad when Saturday arrives. Guess this is why my posting has slowed down a bit lately. I've been pretty tired, and my memory isn't what it should be. I keep putting the wrong dates on stuff, and I just plain forget things.

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I posted about the wild dogwoods last Saturday. They grow in the woods around my home. They're still blooming, and they're still lovely. I know how pretty the Washington DC area can be in the spring, and I wonder if Random Kath and Virginia Gal are experiencing as much beauty right now.

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I'm thinking of changing my blog template. I want to do more than mess with the color scheme and decor, I want to set up a different style. I would like to have only one sidebar, and I want it to be on the right side, so that my posts have a stronger presence on the page and are easier to read. If I do change templates, I guess I'll have to start all over again with the blogroll, etc, and I'll have to learn my way around the new template. Seems a bit daunting. Well, I guess it'll be OK if I save a copy of my current template so that I can go back if I make a muddle of things. Has anyone tried this? If so, how'd it go?

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How 'bout those gas prices? Yes, the length of my commute increased sixfold this year, and I continue to be punished for it. Not only do I get a lot less sleep (I also go in earlier now) and have a long drive every day, but life conspires to add out of control gas prices to my lot. I know, it's not personal, and it's affecting everyone right now. But it feels personal when I pull out of the gas station a couple of times a week...

Still, the environmentalist in me thinks that the gas prices could have a silver lining. We have to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, and we have to stop sending CO2 and other toxins into the atmosphere. Maybe higher fuel prices will make us see the light.

The Search

We watched a movie on Turner Classic Movies last night called The Search. The movie starred Montgomery Clift as Steve, an American soldier post WWII. A little boy named Ivan Jandl played Karel Malik, a Czechoslovakian child separated from his family during the war and imprisoned at Auschwitz. Jandl is the true star of this film.

Karel is rounded up with other kids and taken to an orphanage or camp created by the Americans to help the children. He has amnesia and cannot remember his name or any information about his life or his family. When questioned, he will only answer, "I don't know," in the Czech tongue.

The depiction of the traumatic reactions of the children (most of whom do not speak English) to the no-nonsense military personnel and environment is moving. They find it difficult to trust the soldiers, who seem a lot like the German army to them. They are afraid of military transport and red cross ambulances because they were often used to take people away to concentration camps and gas chambers.

During one poignant scene, the children in an ambulance smell the exhaust from the vehicle and come to believe that they are being gassed. They break out of the ambulance and run away. Karel and another boy are not caught. The other boy drowns, and Karel is believed to have drowned as well. Only his knit hat is found.

Karel's mother has survived the war, though his father and sister have been killed. She begins a search for him on foot. Meanwhile, Karel is taken in by Steve (Clift), who dubs him,"Jim," because he cannot remember his name. Steve teaches Jim English and begins a search for his family. He is told that Karel's family must be dead, so he begins making arrangements to take him back to the US.

Jim gradually remembers some details about his mother and his traumatic separation from her. He runs away to search for her, but he is found by Steve and told that she is dead. Meanwhile, Karel's mother is told by the Americans that he is dead, and given the hat found in the river as proof. Both search for the strength to go on in the belief that they have lost everything, and they begin to heal.

The film's title becomes a recurring theme throughout this beautifully wrought movie, with searches both corporeal and spiritual depicted dramatically and effectively by all of the characters. Ivan Jandl's performance is especially remarkable. At only 11 years of age, he was already an accomplished actor. He won a junior Oscar for this performance in 1948.

This film was banned in Communist countries for 40 years. According to IMDB (as well as various other sites):

Ivan Jandl's performance in the movie The Search (1948) gave so much hope to the people of Czechoslovakia that the Russian Govt. took him out of school and put him to work in a rock quarry. He was forced to work there for a long time and never full recovered from the strains put on him at the time. He lived the rest of his life in a sickly state, and died relatively young.

Ivan Jandl died in 1987 at age 50. His life is a testament to the atrocities of repressive governments.

Dogwoods

Dogwoods grow wild in the woods around here. Their slender boughs spread delicately as if painted into a japanese watercolor rendered on fine silk, and their white blossoms form lacy clouds amongst the nascent greenery of the other woodland trees. They line the roadways like a bridal arch, celebrating the purity of early spring as it prepares to yield to the fertility of deep spring, and later the fecundity of summer.

Celestial Dining

I had a sumptuous lunch with a heavenly pair today. Lunch with Pax Romano and Princess Angel Child was a wonderful time. The fare was beyond compare, and the company was exceptional!

Princess Angel is a credit to Clan Romano. She is lovely and smart, and it seems likely that she will follow in Pax's footsteps as a maven of pop culture.

Thanks, Pax and Princess, for a lovely dejeuner.

A Fox in His Pocket

And I'm not talking about the George Clooney kind of fox.

CNN is reporting that President Bush has offered the post of White House press secretary to Tony Snow, a Fox Network anchor. Mr. Snow is expected to accept.

I know there was never any doubt that Fox is in bed with the White House gang (and vice versa), but this puts the final evidentiary nail in the coffin. It also shows us that Mr. Bush does not have any plans to change direction, despite the fact that US Americans are clamoring for an alteration in course.

Mr. Snow may be well qualified for the job, but the message sent by selecting a Fox anchor is equivalent to the thumbing of a nose at the president's critics. Mr. Bush, your critics are not just your political nemeses anymore, they are the majority of the American public. A little respect for us would be appreciated.

Earth Day

I didn't realize that today is Earth Day until I opened the Google search page and saw the graphic:

I recently posted about the expected effects of climate change here in the Northeastern US. I watched a Nova segment this week called Dimming the Sun. You can read a synopsis of this program here. Essentially, global dimming is a backhanded effect of pollution. Smog (including vapor trails from air traffic) creates a mirror effect, causing the earth to reflect sunlight back into space. This has actually slowed the impact of global warming.

Because smog contributes greatly to diseases of the lungs, governments worldwide have been taking steps to reduce it, and they are having a good deal of success. Smog reduction could lead to the acceleration of global warming. Some scientists say that we are close to a point of no return. We could reach that point within 5 - 10 years, with significant changes to coastlines, living conditions, and food supplies by mid-century. This theory is relatively new and, of course, controversial. The Nova program about how scientists developed the theory is compelling, however, and the information in it should be given consideration.

The US government has been denying the significance of climate change since the advent of the Bush Administration, beginning with the failure to participate in the Kyoto Protocol. The government's Earth Day website celebrates our purported successes and tries to paint the administration in a positive light. This is laughable, and it is an embarrassment to our nation.

The earthday.net website I linked to at the beginning of this post provides information about things we can do right now to make a difference, without waiting for the government to act. It is clear that US citizens will have to take steps to stabilize the environment without the government's assistance or leadership. We can't afford to wait until Bush leaves office to act. It might be too late.

Morning

Good Morning, all.

Took one of the hounds out about half an hour ago. It was just barely daylight, still half dark out there. A robin flew over to the the dry birdbath and sat there pointedly, as if reminding me that I was failing in my duty. I obliged him, and the birds have water for this morning.

There'll be no need to fill the birdbath this weekend, by all accounts. Heavy rains are expected in these parts, starting later this afternoon.

And me, I feel kind of lousy, and not so wide awake. I'm headed back to bed. Ahhh, the luxury of vacation.

Hope everyone has a happy Friday, and a wonderful weekend!

Looking for a Room

I'm looking for an image of a room to use in my blog header. Any suggestions from the peanut gallery? Links appreciated. Maybe I should turn this into a contest. Hmmm...

Happy Easter

Happy Easter, everyone! I only had a few minutes to throw this color scheme together, since blogger kept giving me a hard time about uploading images, but you get the idea.

Enjoy this beautiful day, and don't eat too much chocolate or too many hard boiled eggs.

A Trip to India

I thought about Virginia Gal as I made a quick trip to India today. Virginia Gal would be the most qualified person I know to tell you that a quick trip to India from the US could only be possible in the sense of virtual travel, or as a flight of fancy. I took the latter, inspired by, what else, FOOD! At the grocery store late last night, I picked up a couple of Tasty Bite dishes. I couldn't wait to try them, so I tucked into the Jaipur Vegetables for lunch today.

Mr. Merci joined me in the taste test. This dish gets 2 thumbs up in the Beaucoup household. Jaipur Vegetables is a wonderful vegetarian concoction with the consistency of a stew. It's just spicy enough to tingle your tongue without the need call the firehall. It would be great over rice, which I must avoid, so it was consumed a la carte. As with all spicy dishes, a bit of vanilla ice cream as an afterthought would have been quite nice. Sadly, ice cream is on my forbidden list, as well. No matter, Jaipur vegetables is truly delicious.

I can't vouch for it's authenticity, and I certainly cannot compare it to other Indian dishes, since my experience of the cuisine is limited (something I plan to rectify soon), but it stood on its own as quite a Tasty Bite.

Favorite New Show

I'm really getting hooked on Big Love, the new show about polygamy. It's set, where else? in Utah. I've watched it since the first episode. It's kind of tough to shift gears for another HBO drama right after The Sopranos on Sunday night, but I'm managing. Finally found a couple of folks at work who are watching it, too, so now I can chat about it and mull it over with friends (hi, Joey B.).

Looking forward to work today. I have a lot to accomplish, and when it's over: VACATION! 10 beautiful days off in a row. Not going anywhere special, and that's just fine with me! I need the R&R.

Hope those of you who celebrate Easter have a lovely one. Those of you who do not, hope you enjoy the extra day off (if you've got one). If not, then hope you get something special out of the weekend - good weather, a nice dinner out or a new pair of shoes. Nothing like new shoes to make you feel great.

OK, I'm getting punchy. Gotta go to bed. I stayed up late waiting for some clothes to finish in the dryer. Forgot to put them in right after the wash cycle was done. I'm such a nimwit sometimes. I'll be very tired all day tomorrow. But that's OK, 'cuz when tomorrow's over, I'm on vacation!!!!

We Need a Little Christmas (shopping)...Already???

I'm watching CNN this morning, and I just saw the first Christmas ad of 2006. Apparently, QVC felt that it was necessary to remind us of the benefits of shopping early for Christmas gifts, and they want us to mark our calendars so that we won't miss their big Christmas shopping bonanza in November.

I hope it was just an error, but I'm skeptical. Bad enough that we have Christmas ads before Halloween, but before EASTER??? What's a Bunny gotta do to stay employed under all of this holiday pressure?

To Miss Magnolia

In a comment on my post below, Miss Magnolia Thunderpussy offered the following:

"I've always wanted to take dear Pax for an outing at the bitch but we've abandoned the idea, I can't walk in the sand, in heels and the wheels of Pax's chair would get tangled in all the seaweed."

Here is my reply:

Miss Magnolia-

It's hard enough to walk in the sand, let alone to push one of those rolling chairs through it. Perhaps a trip to the Wildwood Boardwalk would be a better alternative. You could ride up and down the boards in the luxury of the tram. No need to fear for the safety of the pedestrians, since they play the recorded message, "Watch the tram car please, watch the tram car please." In fact, they play it over and over and over, ad infinitum.

http://www.limericky.com/funtram.html

The Atlantic City boardwalk offers rolling chairs pushed (for a fee) by entrepreneurial types. The rolling chairs give you more freedom to choose your destination, and they offer a bit more privacy.

Failing both of the above, Mr. M and I could power a surrey on the Ocean City Boardwalk that would enable the two of you to tour in style. The model at the top of the page has enough room for crinolines and oxygen tanks, but the model pictured here is available if you desire the romance of the pretty little surrey with the fringe on top.

So you see, the Jersey Shore can accomodate ladies and gentleman of leisure. There is no need ever to dip so much as a little toe into the sand or the ocean.

Sea Isle Sunday

Our plans to stay home and relax yesterday were thwarted by the gorgeous weather. We just had to get out and enjoy the day. There are only so many spectacular days in any given year, and we couldn't let the perfect weather go to waste. We decided to take a spin into Sea Isle City for a walk on the boards. Great choice! And it came on the heels of a trip to the boards in Ocean City on Saturday.

We love this time of year because the height of the tourism season hasn't struck. We can find parking spots on the barrier islands, and we can actually walk down the boardwalk (as opposed to being jostled down the boards by the crowds).

It's always a bit cooler on the islands, of course, which is the reason they became such popular tourist spots in the days before air conditioning. The air seemed chilly when we first got out of the car, but we warmed up quickly as we began to walk in the sun. We didn't think it was warm enough for shorts and tees and bare feet, but there were a few people who disagreed with us. I found my warm up suit to be just about the right thing to wear.

Here are some pics of SIC:

Last Fall I wrote a post called, "Sidewinders and Tombstones." In the post I described the benches that line the Sea Isle City boardwalk as tombstones, their epitaphs serving as eerie captions to a dark, deserted, Autumn night. I didn't have any photos to post at the time, so here are a few:

Here's one last scenic pic as a closing thought:

Strange Events

It's been a strange couple of days here at the Room. It all started on Thurdsay night, when the Old Hounds refused to settle down and go to sleep. If you know anything about old dogs, you know that they sleep about 99% of the time. This was an odd night.

After restlessly roaming the house for about an hour, starting at midnight, the young hound (age 14) started to growl in a low tone. The old hound (age 15) soon joined the chorus, which quickly evolved into a theatrical production of the most gosh-awful howling you can imagine. I'm always amazed by the ability of these small creatures to bellow out such big, deep sounds.

We realized that this would be an entirely sleepless night if we did not take action. Were the neighbor's cats creeping around the foundation of our home again in their endless search for voles and moles? Was a possum climbing the gutters? Was a skunk family trying to take up residence under the deck ? (I shudder at the thought of skunks under the deck.)

We armed ourselves with the most powerful flashlight we have. A candle might have given off more light, but at least the flashlight would stay lit in the breeze. We left by the front door, locking it behind us so that nobody could gain entry to our home while we were creeping around the property.

We slowly and quietly made our way around the house. As we rounded the corner by the family room, we heard a rustling noise in the woods. Could it be a deer? We haven't seen any since hunting season last fall, but they could be making a comeback. But a deer in the woods should not be enough to disturb the dogs to this extent. Was the Jersey Devil taking up residence? We trained the flashlight beam on the woods, but it was not strong enough to penetrate past brushy the outer edge. The rustling sound picked up in pace, and the creature could be heard moving off toward our neighbor's home.

We finished the circuit of the property, and, finding nothing else amiss, we went back inside. The dogs were unsettled for another half hour or so, but they finally went to sleep. We gladly followed suit.

Fast forward to last night (Friday). The same cycle of events began. This time, we were prepared with a much more powerful flashlight - something much more like a search light. Once again, we crept around the house, and we heard noise in the woods directly behind our home. As we shone the light into the murky woodland, the noise once again intensified. We were shocked and speechless (well, nearly speechless; I won't repeat our actual comments here) to see the back of a retreating black bear!

Black bear have been sighted in a state park not far from here, and one was seen (and captured) in a neighborhood one county over. I don't know that any have actually been seen here before last night, but I guess it was inevitable.

So here we are, stunned in bearland, making plans to secure our trash and add extra lighting to the exterior of our home, in hopes of discouraging bears from foraging too close to the house. Our neighbors seem to have had a similar experience. For the account of their bear sighting, complete with some amazing photos, check out their site.

Room With A View, Fast Forward

The lead story at cnn.com earlier today was about the acceleration of climate change. It seems that we may be approaching, or may have passed, a tipping point. A tipping point is something like the straw that broke the camel's back. Once you hit it, a cascade of rapid changes begins, and the trend is difficult to reverse.

If our climate continues to warm at the current rate, then many of the world's coastlines as we know them today will be under water by the year 2100. Sea levels could rise by 2-3 feet. The map below (taken from cnn.com) shows the projected impact on the region where I live. My house is situated firmly in the red zone.

In fact, my home is situated far enough into the red zone to make me wonder if it will take a full century for me to feel the effects of global climate change. After all, it cannot be expected that the seas will suddenly rise by 24" exactly 100 years from today. A gradual rise is the more likely scenario, and it has already begun. The polar ice caps and mountain glaciers of the world are disappearing at an alarming rate. As the icefields (which reflect sunlight out of the atmosphere) dissipate, we absorb even more solar energy, increasing the rate of warming. The oceans absorb heat. As the oceans grow in size due to the melting icefields, we absorb more heat. Quite a cascade.

So I wonder, what will I see in my lifetime? If I stay in New Jersey, in my present home, what will I see through my back window? Whenever we have heavy rain, or a coastal storm threatens, those of us who live on the southern New Jersey mainland (the oceanside beaches of South Jersey are located on barrier islands, not on the mainland) joke about having beachfront property when "the big one" hits. Is there more truth in that old joke than we want to acknowledge? Will the woodland that is my back yard die off as salt water seeps upward, killing first the easternmost trees, and gradually creeping up on my home?

I've heard two different versions of the ultimate impact of global warming on climate in the future. Both seem to agree that the temperatures we experience will be extreme. It will either be brutally hot or the Gulf Stream will shift, ushering in an ice age. Robert Frost offers the best summary of my feelings about the possibilities:

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.