Yelling For Help
I don’t often have bad dreams, and this one was a doozy. I was in my house – or office – and it was a large, clear white space. I noticed a lot of fine black dust in places on the white carpet, like toner from copy machines, and then it gathered and swirled, but sometimes it was white. Then I saw a man – or something with a skull – sitting on a white slab couch like my Mom used to have in turquoise back a long time ago.
I kept looking – sort of like a cat does when he sees something he is not sure of, looking for motion or some sign of threat, very alert. When the skull creature started to move, I started to yell.
(Lithograph by Munch)
It’s hard to yell when you are scared, but I kept at it. “Help!” It sounded weak and tentative. “HELP!” “HELP!”
AdventureMan was there to help, calling my name, asking if I was OK. “I thought it was the Qatteri Cat,” he told me, “It sounded kind of strangled and yowly.”
I just laughed. I felt good. The skull man didn’t get me, AdventureMan was right here, my trusted knight, and I had broken through my fear – or the sleep barrier – and yelled really loud. I don’t know why, but it made me feel powerful and like I had survived something and that made me feel good. 🙂
(It could also be related to the series I am reading, on which the current HBO series Game of Thrones is based, and maybe it disturbs me on some deep level.)
Happy Mother’s Day
There is this thing on FaceBook where for Mother’s Day you put a photo of your own mother as your profile photo. I don’t do a lot on FaceBook, but I did this one, and I thought I would share an early photo of my mother with you:
I just love that mischievous little smile that says “Don’t you want to come play with me?”
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.
Hissing on Easter and other Rambles
The 0815 service this morning was glorious. We got there early, because those who had gone to the early-early service and had stayed on for breakfast would be leaving, and this is Easter – we needed a parking place. The front of the church was laden with flowers, so many flowers it looked like a private garden, and the flowers scented the entire church, an odor of sanctity.
Getting there early was a really good thing – just after we entered, the brass trio started serenading us, exultant music, full of joy and triumph, perfect way to start an Easter morning service. It’s a special treat, having music and the full choir at the 0815 service, but a member of the choir told me earlier that this is the only Sunday of the year that they sing at all three services. If you like music, oh, what a treat!
The church filled up quickly. I couldn’t help it, I had to look around to see if there were any Easter bonnets. I remember being a kid – a girl kid, that is. We always had hats for Easter. Being kind of a snotty kid, I was often critical of the one I got and somewhere along the line that tradition was discontinued. I guess it must have been discontinued widely, as there were only six ladies wearing hats (we couldn’t help it, we counted), but very nice hats they were. The little girls were all dressed in lovely dresses, some even with chiffon and lots of ribbons.
As we reached the offering, people behind us were criticizing the parents whose children were making noise.
“They should know better! Why don’t they just take them out, so they won’t bother the rest of us?”
“It’s SO disrespectful!”
There is child care available, but I personally love having the children in the service. Maybe it’s a little disruptive, but you know – we’ll live. And I just thank God they are there! I want them to be welcome! I want the parents not to have to leave, but to know their children – and their antics – are welcome! I miss our noisy services in Doha and in Kuwait, with the babies, the children. Even though they left, there was always a little serendipitous bedlam in the service to keep us from taking ourselves too seriously.
As we left, we also sighed – we miss the gorgeous colorful displays of all the saris on the high holy days, the saffrons and fuschias and peacock blues and greens and golds.
Later this afternoon, when the Happy Baby wakes up from his nap, we’ll be having Easter Dinner. He got going too fast this morning and split his lip when he fell. I remember our son at that age, and the doctor who looked at me meaningfully and asked “does your son often have bruises?” I was so offended, but all I could do was laugh – when they start running, they fall down. Once, I was right there when he tripped – inches away from me – and fell against a sharp edged table. It all happened so fast there was nothing I could do (except take him to the emergency room for stitches).
Actually, we were at a school friend’s house in Jordan, his father owned the hospital, his driver drove us, he Dad-the-doctor put in the stitches and we were back at the party before ice-cream and cake were served.
We try to protect them. We do our best. We try to teach them how to behave at public gatherings, like parades, like church, like change-of-command ceremonies, things we are not born knowing. It takes practice. Like parenting. 🙂
Oral Sex More Lethal to Men than Women
This article from AOL Health News makes the point that while all females in the USA are encouraged to be vaccinated against HPV, young men, who are statistically more vulnerable, have not been vaccinated. Many women find themselves unexpectedly at risk when they are exposed to HPV by an unfaithful husband or boyfriend who has picked it up during oral sex.
Research: Oral Sex Puts Men at Risk for Oral Cancer
Mara Gay
Contributor
Rates of oral cancer are on the rise among men, and researchers say the culprit isn’t the devil you might think.
The rising rates of oral cancer aren’t being caused by tobacco, experts say, but by HPV, the same sexually transmitted virus responsible for the vast majority of cases of cervical cancer in women.
Millions of women and girls have been vaccinated against HPV, or human papillomavirus, but doctors now say men exposed to the STD during oral sex are at risk as well and may have higher chances of developing oral cancer.
About 65 percent of oral cancer tumors were linked to HPV in 2007, according to the National Cancer Institute. And the uptick isn’t occurring among tobacco smokers.
“We’re looking at non-smokers who are predominantly white, upper middle class, college-educated men,” Brian Hill, the executive director of the Oral Cancer Foundation, told AOL News by phone.
Tobacco use has declined over the past decade, but rates of HPV infections have risen and affect at least 50 percent of the sexually active American population, according to the Centers for Disease Control.
HPV-16, the strain of the virus that causes cervical cancer in women, has become the leading cause of oral cancer in non-smoking men, Hill said, citing research in the New England Journal of Medicine.
“When the No. 1 cause of your disease goes down [tobacco use], you would expect that the incidence of disease would go down, but that hasn’t happened,” he said. “In our world, this is an epidemic.”
Dr. Jennifer Grandis, the vice chairwoman for research at the University of Pittsburgh and an expert on head and neck cancers, said doctors have been seeing the HPV virus in most oral cancer tumors. She said the massive push to vaccinate girls and women between the ages of 11 and 26 against HPV should have included boys and men from the beginning. Gardasil, one of the two major vaccines used to prevent HPV, wasn’t approved for use in males in the United States until 2009, three years after it was approved for women.
“The thinking is changing,” Grandis told AOL News in a phone interview. “But at the time [the vaccine] was licensed, there wasn’t such an awareness about head or oral cancers or a willingness to accept that males played a part in the transmission of the virus,” she said. “I think this idea that we only protect our daughters with the vaccine is nuts anyway, particularly because they’re having sex with our boys.”
Men have a greater chance of contracting the HPV virus from oral sex than women do from the same behavior, though researchers aren’t exactly sure why. Oral cancer has a low survival rate because it is generally not discovered until it has spread to other areas, according to the CDC. Only half of people who’ve been diagnosed with oral cancer will live longer than five years.
Holy Week Evensong at Christ Church, Pensacola
My favorite service of all, Evensong. Everything is just moving along, peacefully, penitentially, as we enter Holy Week, when all of a sudden, the choir is singing Gounod, the Jerusalem anthem from Gallia. Oh, WOW! Gounod makes me grin, and he moves me. Gounod . . . Gounod ROCKS!
And here you can here the anthem:
I was introduced to Gounod in Doha. Our priest, Ian Young, led a group called the Doha Singers, and he chose challenging music. We learned Gounod’s Mass for St. Cecelia, and the music is the kind that gets into your blood. I couldn’t get enough of it. I never get sick of it. Gounod is music with a sense of drama and a sense of humor about itself. I think it is his sense of timing, how you hold a note just a little longer than you would expect, and then rollick on to the next. I had never heard this piece before, but Gounod is so individual, so unique – it had to be Gounod.
It was a perfect evening, a lovely service, and the sun shone in through the cross as it set:
At the end, we sang one of my very favorite hymns, The Day Thou Gavest Lord, is Ended:
I admit it, I am pretty tough, but these words make me weak and weepy:
The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
The darkness falls at Thy behest;
To Thee our morning hymns ascended,
Thy praise shall sanctify our rest.
All in all, a lovely day. Our son joined us for the first episode of The Game of Thrones on HBO. He’s read all the books, I am on book 2, and AdventureMan is reading the first book, the one on which this series is based. Great way to begin our week. 🙂
Happy Five Year Anniversary
“How did he sound?” AdventureMan asked about our son.
I smiled.
“Actually, he sounded fine. He sounded like there is nothing in the world he wants to do more than to stay home with his sick baby.”
Everything was planned. Our son and his wife were on their way out to a special dinner, to celebrate five years of successful marriage. We were signed on to babysit, something we do with gladness. We knew how the evening would go. We arrive, HappyBaby runs shrieking with joy to AdventureMan, running right around me if I get in the way. I fix dinner, feed the HappyBaby, AdventureMan takes him down to play, then bathtime, then bed.
Not this time.
Our son called us about an hour before we were scheduled to arrive.
‘It’s all off” he said. “HappyBaby is sick, fever, lethargic. We’re just going to stay home. You can come by if you just want to hang out.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” I said, a little in shock. HappyBaby has been having a long spell of wellness. “I’m making spaghetti for us and HappyBaby,” I replied, “but there’s a lot. Can I bring dinner?”
He said yes. We made a salad, AdventureMan found a really good bottle of wine, we headed down. AdventureMan held HappyBaby – not so happy, very tired and a little fussy – while we dished up; I finished and held him so AdventureMan could eat. HappyBaby was fine with coming to me, his arms went around me, his little head went down on my shoulder, and it was like when he was little little, except he is so big now that I can’t sit down, or I can’t easily get up again. He’s a big boy now.
I always joke that I am the grandmother who can bore her grandson to sleep. We stood outside for a while, watching the cars go by, watching the sun set over the Bayou, and when the cool breeze started blowing I took him inside. He was so sleepy, he didn’t complain. We rocked, and I put him down in his crib, fast asleep.
It wasn’t the evening we expected. It was, for us, even better, having a relaxed time with our son and his wife, getting to put HappyBaby to sleep once again. It turned out to be a very sweet evening.
We’ve signed up to do the babysitting again when HappyBaby is well and our son and his wife can go out for that dinner. Five years of marriage is worth celebrating. We are so proud of them and the way they handle life, it’s joys and disappointments, struggles, challenges and triumphs. They are a good team, and we celebrate that they found one another and work so well together.
The YaYas
I see them everywhere. Small groups of women, usually three or four, sitting in church together, heads together over lunch, power walking down the boulevard, at coffee after their tennis matches. You can see the intimacy, the trust – these are women who have grown together over time. They share their secrets. They prop each other up in the bad times. They laugh over their faux-pas.
No, I don’t envy them, nor do I want to become a part of their group. I know my own YaYas will build, and I will have women I love sharing my life here. Meanwhile, I miss my old YaYa’s.
I’ve been here a year now. The one year point, for me, is usually when things start happening. The real friends come along. I start committing and getting involved in my new community. When I think of all the details we have overcome in one year, all the anxieties I had, all the details over which I agonized, I thank God for his mercy and for the peace of mind we have now. Truly, he answered every prayer, and brought us to a good and spacious place.
Lunch in Paris (A Love Story With Recipes) by Elizabeth Bond
I just finished this book, and I need to review it so that I can pass it along to my daughter-in-law, who sees France, as I do, through eyes of love. Americans either love France or hate it, for some reason France evokes strong emotions one way or the other.
This author is a New Yorker, and her experiences are not my experiences, because her culture is not my culture. New York is a culture all its own. On the other hand, her experiences as an expat are universal, and her insecurity with the language, the culture and the customs are magnified by her commitment to marrying a French man and living in France for the rest of her life.
For the record, I really loved this book.
Can you read a recipe and have a pretty good idea what it is going to look like and how it will taste? In my family, we read cook books for fun. The recipes Elizabeth Bond has included are great recipes, a great start on French cooking the simple and fresh way. Even someone who has never cooked French food can make most of the dishes she creates in this book. In my very favorite chapter, A New Year’s Feast, there are several recipes for North African dishes I have eaten and loved – and oh, I am eager to try these! Chicken Tajine with Two Kinds of Lemon! Tajine with Meatballs and Spiced Apricots! Oh, YUMMMM!
In one part of the book, the author talks about some very basic differences between how Americans approach life and how the French view life:
I watched the couples walking around the lake. “Maybe it’s the New Yorker in me. I’m too used to rushing around. But everyone here is so relaxed, it’s like they’re moving in slow motion.”
“Why should they rush? They’re not going to get anywhere.”
Sometimes I really have no idea what he is taling about.
“You will never understand. You come from a place where everything is possible.” We lay side by side on the grass, our eyes half closed.
“It’s Henry Miller that said, ‘In America, every man is potentially a president. Here, every man is potentially a zero.’ ”
And then he told me a story.
“When I was sixteen it was time to decide what kind of studies I would pursue. I was the best in the class in Math and Physics, but also the best in Literature. I went to the school library and the woman behind the desk gave me a book. It was called All the Jobs in the World. I looked through it. I found two things I liked: scientific researcher and film director. I brought the book to the front and showed her my choices. ‘Ah non,’ she said, ‘You forgot to look at the key.’ And she pointed to the top of the page. Next to each job were the dollar signs – three dollar signs if the job paid a lot of money, one dollar sign if it paid very little. Next to the dollar sign was a door. If the door was wide open it was very easy to tet this job, if the door was open just a little bit, it was very hard. ‘Regard,‘ she said, ‘You have picked only jobs with no dollar signs and a closed door. Tu n’y arriveras jamais. You will never get there.”
‘You should become an engineer,’ she said. My parents never met anyone who did these other things. We don’t come from that world. They had no friends they could call to get me a job. They were afraid I would fail and they couldn’t help me. They were afraid I would have no place in the society. And I didn’t have the force to do it myself. I didn’t want to disappoint them. So I became an engineer.”
“It’s just like that here. If you want to do something different, if you head sticks up just a little, they cut it off. It’s been like that since the Revolution. You know the saying, Liberte,’ Egalite,’ Fraternite,’ equality is right in the middle. Everyone has got to be the same.
Of all the stories Gwendal has told me, before or since, this one shocked me the most. Never in my life, not once, had anyone ever told me there was something I couldn’t do, couldn’t be.
Have you ever known an expat wife (a woman who has married a man of another culture and lived in his country)? Expat wives are some of the bravest women I have ever met. No matter how long you have been married to a man of another culture, you can still be surprised.
The expat wives I have known have been smart, gifted people, woman who have been blessed to see the world through the eyes of more than one culture, and it changes everything. Their children are amazing – most will speak – and think – in more than one language. They have a sort of international fluidity, as well as intercultural fluency. It isn’t everyone’s choice, but those who chose it often live lives you and I can only begin to imagine. Elizabeth Bond has opened the door a little, and shared some of those experiences with us.
The book I bought has Reader’s Groups questions in the back, and they are good questions. Read the questions first; it gives you food for thought as you read through her experiences.
Pensacola Visitors To Fort Pickens
You ask where I have been. We’ve just had two weeks and three weekends of house guests. Now, before you groan, I have to tell you that it was two different visits, with less than 24 hours in between, and both visits were old and dear friends. Our visitors are people we treasure and who are easy easy guests to have around. We’ve had two weeks of great visits and great conversations, and I apologize if you are feeling a little abandoned. I didn’t really abandon you; I checked the blog almost daily, but . . . I had a lot on my hands. I can only do a few things at a time, and do them well. I chose to focus on my guests. I hope you will forgive me. 🙂
So I am going to share with you some beautiful sights from nearby Fort Pickens. When we first went there, about a year ago, we discovered they have a Senior Lifetime Pass for only $20. There was only one Senior in the car at the time – me – so the pass is in my name, and gets us into every national park in the United States, me and up to eight people in the same car with me. How is that for a bargain? We’ve already used it four or five times worth the original payment of $20. What an amazing deal!
Fort Pickens is out along Pensacola Beach, and is a long narrow strip of land barely above sea-level. We could see it with our eyes, and when we measured it with our iPhones, it gave us a range from below sea level to 33 feet above sea level. (iPhones must be nearly out of fashion because all my friends have them and we are OLD! If we have them, there must be something out there newer and faster and better that all the trend-setting youngsters are buying . . . so what is it?)
Oops! I got distracted! What I want to do is share some photos of what a truly gorgeous place Fort Pickens is:
I think these are trilliiums:
Aren’t these pretty berries? I don’t know if they are edible – or poisonous!
Perfect weather for a walk, and this is the walking trail, .7 miles each direction:
Fort Pickens was constructed to protect the shores from invaders, so this is one of the fortress walls”
A Heron along the nature trail:
A Turtle (we can’t agree on whether it is a Gopher Turtle or a Snapping Turtle):
We finished up with a walk along the beach, where our visitors talked with the fishermen along the shore. These are the lines they have out trying to catch some fish, but I really want you to see how clean and beautiful the beach, sand and water are looking 🙂 :
This week, I need to get some things done in the garden, before the weather starts getting too hot!
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