I rarely eat out, preferring my own crazy mess for dinner, but when I do geography often requires that one go with the flow, and so I've traded my Mexican food penchant (which I gleefully indulged repeatedly on our recent trip south and west – oh heaven!) for decent Chinese takeout, found rarely in Maine and so something of a "new" thrill. Not that this island has much to offer in the dining out department, but there is a new Chinese takeaway here on the island; You can't miss it for the wild flutter of flags out front, and the name alone pretty much demands you try it. I mean, who but a newly minted immigrant would have the cajones to call their place "BEST FOOD IN TOWN"? That's not a subtitle, it's the name of the place. And it's not bad. Certainly the best quality food for the money here, so far. No MSG use, fresh vege, and delightful young women run it who remember what you ordered last week and want to know if you liked it.

Note to smug America: this is why we are losing the battle for hearts and minds, because we exhibit none ourselves.

I have never seen the ocean quite the color blue it was yesterday, never. A true blue usually reserved for the sky alone, sky blue. T described it as "iridescent". But the clouds, great roiling ones, were moving in in billows of shades of grey, reflected in that perfect blue sea as greasy grey smears sliding like seals across the churning, perfect blue waves. There was no wind on the beach (for a change) yet the sea was heaving and crashing every which way. It was stunning. (Not what is pictured above, I didn't have camera with me during yesterday's walk with T.)

Shoutout to Bassman and A dela F for the Peeps and Comic they sent along. Will have fun with both, Peeps headed for the grill first chance we get.

Nice to have a few hours with wonderful Av and Tony Monday evening, too much wine (I love red wine but must always pay heavily next morning and so usually normally eschew that for white) and lively conversation about contradictions, what they mean – the fury rising in a dumbed down US; T's stories of the gentle acceptance one feels in the non-threatening poor of Mumbai's endless slums.

Today is gloriously clear after rain, breezy and T and I will head to Cloud 9 (no less) on mainland for hot stone "treat"ment for what ails us.

I have a rather daunting task ahead of me this month, my last month here at Marcie's Hideaway. To organize myself into a selling machine for the book, and find an agent. To that end I will be limiting the blog to two days a week (unless i find myself bursting to say something that requires urgent and timely commentary), Wednesday and Sunday. That way I can just focus and try to giterdone as we say up north. Am also looking for a housesitting gig in Washington, DC area for the summer, if anyone knows anyone. It can be for as short as a couple weeks, a month, or all summer. That town, I know cause I went to college there long time ago, empties out in summer, is really hot, and I like that, having all those air conditioned at taxpayer dollars museums to myself. So if you have buddies down there who need someone to lovingly look after pets or plants while they enjoy the breezes of the Eastern Shore or the gale winds of their home districts, do let me know? Grazie..

A few things came up in the news today I thought warranted everyone's attention. The first was a piece on the downside of reliance on Powerpoint briefings by government lackeys and their bosses. I really loved this one, especially the part that described how pissed Lt. Gen. McIernon was when Tommy Franks tried to give him some BS "vague" Powerpoint show regarding the imminent invasion of Iraq in 2003. The point is that Powerpoint is good for "hypnotizing the chickens" of the press, but does little to inform generals and other decision makers as to what should be done and who should be doing it. Well done there. Lesson: If it seems easy to understand it probably isn't.

Headline: Ruling Class of Inbreds Dies of Obesity! In the "Who Cares? " department, it appears that neither money nor ignorance buys health or bliss. The people of Qatar have transmogrified into something that is considered the norm there (a 'norm' we see increasingly accepted stateside), and, despite an outrageous per capita GDP , the result is not a happy one. I can see the new travel ads now: Qatar, Appalachia's Got Nothin' on Us. To quote the bril Eddie Izzard: And that's what happens when cousins marry!

Take a minute on this one, folks, so you actually know what's going on. I guess Congress is trying to come out looking like good guys now as they grill Mr. Blankfein and his ilk about the shenanigans at Goldman. This is all about Glass Steagall, and its repeal in 1999. If you don't know about that, don't pretend to know anything about this mess. Yeah, it's true that it was a Republican dominated congress that got the repeal rolling and wrote the legislation to undo the two part Banking act of 1933 (passed in 1932 and 33 to prevent another Depression, hullo?). And it's true that the repeal of that act in 1999, engineered by flab king Phil Gramm and his cronies, passed the House and Senate along party lines at first, but then it went to committee, and suddenly the over $300 million dollars in lobbying efforts by the financial industry over twenty years beginning with the arrival of the RAYGUN in the White House and the rise of credit cards, paid off. When the doctored repeal found its way to final House and Senate floor votes, the Dems caved, with only 8 holdouts in the Senate and 54 in the House. Shame on them all, parading by the Senate vote counter in their flashy new hooker getups. And then Clinton signed the thing. Did he want to? Who knows. But I'm guessing Rubin was making it an appealing argument in favor of him doing so. Stroke, stroke. We need a more distinguishing word for "male political whore".

Ooooooo.... you just wanna smack em.

Did you see the kids in Joisey (where I am) out in the streets protesting cuts to schools? Twenty thousand or so. Good for them. Not as brain dead as we thought, as least the ones who had the courage to demonstrate and utilize their right to free speech and assembly. Of course Gov. Christie's office had to diss their efforts as kids with spring fever who were just ditching class. Hey, Christie, I'll show you spring fever!

Finally, and herein lies a lesson most women have already learned well, a comment from an economic researcher in the UK on the subject of the EU bailing out its own: "When a large portion of your country's debt is held by foreigners, you are dependent on the kindness of strangers." Amen to that, brotha.

See you Sunday.

"The anatomical juxtaposition of two orbicularis oris muscles in a state of contraction." --Dr. Henry Gibbons, Definition of a Kiss

I went looking for that pounds per square inch nursing baby sucking statistic to verify, like ya do, and came across the Rodin and just knew you'd like it.

And isn't it delicious!

Just too good. I think Rodin was onto something. See where that guy's hand is? So carefully carved? yeah... I think he was saying something... there's a reason that hand is so clear, barely holding her... dontcha think? Lovely.

Guy musta been "good wid his hands", as they say. I mean Rodin of course.

Belated reflections on Earth Day. How brief the tune...Click word 'crazy' to spin planet

A crazy planet full of crazy people

Is somersaulting all around the sky

And everytime it turns another somersault

Another day goes by...

Earth Day ... Is that like Mother's Day but with gender delicately avoided, implied? One day out of 365 on our calendar when we decide to honor The Mother? Um, is that the Mother without whom none of us would exist – that Mother? Yeah, small potatoes, fellas – one lousy day. And I don't say this as a mother so much as a resident of a planet populated by thankless children, particularly those in the american playpen, who whine about their circumstances (I still don't see many of them turning off the tv and picking up all this trash) while sucking that Tit of Plenty as dry as their greedy little cheeks can manage three hundred pounds per square inch! (or whatever it is, maybe less, I forget.)

Oui..

So!

THIS is my unique contribution to Earth Day. (shoutout to T the photographer)

Here's a dog owner who has their priorities in order... I'm lookin at, including the dog, say four or five hundred dollars worth of crap here. This person was riding a public bus. When I used to do things like this (no not really this bad) to my cat my son used to say "MOM! You're making him gay!" (He was preadolescent and being funny, the kid not the cat. The cat was whoa old, which is why I got away with it.) I dunno, it's cute, but horrifying at the same time.. Something out of Cormac McCarthy.

So I learned on John Stewart last night some guy wrote a book insisting we are not confronting the long feared Malthusian population explosion disaster. Instead it appears that women the world over, even on the Dark Continents (including India there), are choosing to have fewer children (well, way to go, ladies), and as a result, by the year 2040 we will be seeing an actual decline in the world's population. This is good news for us but bad news for the water thieves and GMO seed mongers who want to control these two commodities with a fear based agenda that will have farmers and the rest of us dependent on their doling out, for a fee, the necessities of our very existence because if we don't we will die! (Shades of The Evil Emperor in Star Wars.) But their fear based agenda has holes in it that threaten to reduce their bottom line.

Maude Barlow, (I just luv Maude) as well as dozens of other reputable people, gave Mr. Pearce's book (and he's written other tomes along this line, he's no amateur) a rave, and that's all I need to read to know I should read this book too. As far as I'm concerned Maude should be crowned queen of the Earth today and, sceptre at the ready, be allowed to rule with a free hand, screw democratic capitalism. Maude started out as an anticorporate rabble rouser in Canada years ago and I guess her props are well deserved as she is now head of the UN's, well, Oversight of All Water on the Planet Department or some such. Maude is one of my heroines. Her books, films are great as well, not dry at all, it's what they should be teaching high school kids in science class. Read her and you will be the most informed person at the next party of opinionated "progressives" or "hipsters" you attend. Which will not, I'm sorry to say, necessarily make you the most popular.

So, now that we've averted a population disaster (and it makes total sense, this guy's thesis), what next? Oh yeah, brain cancer. I know it's not your favorite topic, but take a minute to read this rather lengthy piece in the new Harper's about cellphones and brain cancers. It is no bs to postulate that right about the same time the population is declining in 2040, an entire generation will see an explosion in the development of brain cancers as a result of.... you guessed it, improper use of cellphones. If you do nothing else, read the last few paragraphs of this article. And just to be on the safe side, do the following:

*Turn off your WiFi at night or when not in use.

*Do NOT keep cellphone in your pocket (near the family jewels, guys).

*Do NOT sleep with cellphone next to your bed. Get a friggin alarm clock.

*Always use a listening device attachment with your phone (earbuds or such) rather than holding it up to your ear. This is a habit you can easily create for yourself. Just takes a bit of mindfulness, something we can all use more practice with, yes? Blue tooth on ear, NOOOOOOOOO. Leave that to the assholes who will die before you do, but looking cool, like Lando Calrisian's bald (for a reason!) assistant.

So let's all just get over wanting to look cool like James Bond or whomever and get that electromagnetic device off your brain!

Ok, and just give this a quick read if you're tired of credit card companies and banks hosing you. We pay more than 48 billions bucks a year in transaction fees every single time we use a debit or credit card. (You didn't think the banks were just being NICE giving us these convenient cards that make us feel like we have more money than we actually have did you?Mmmmm. doesn't that l'il piece of plastic just make you feel like somebody? ) The progressives in congress, yes there seem to be a few, want to make things better for us, THE ARMY OF Mass CONSUMERISM WE HAVE ALL VOLUNTEERED TO JOIN FOR NO PAY, by limiting this 2% of EVERY transaction fee we NOW pay (that's each and every time you use a debit or credit card) to more like .5%, like they have in Europe. (And by the way, Europeans shop one fourth as often as Americans do. They don't see themselves as consumers so much as people. They seem to have better things to do? Quoi? Maybe why their "lifestyle" seems so much better than ours? Yeah, that and free health care, and nice trains. Oh, but let's not go there..)

I think Obama actually wants to fix this bank hose job, but he and the progressive Dems are gonna need some backup on this Robin Hood raid they're planning on the nation's biggest banks, and that's a good thing! So let's pressure them all to do something. Call, email, whatever, If nothing else, be informed as to the FACTS and tell everyone else what's really goin on here. You want economic stimulus? There is it.

Finally, I had another thought about friendship last night after talking with my wonderful soeur T2. A friend is also someone who always gets your jokes, even the little ones, no matter how quirky is your particular brand of humor. It's a weird kind of unconditional love I think.

So, Ladies, never fall in love with a man who doesn't appreciate your sense of humor. That goes for makin friends as well..

Random thought..

There are, if you are lucky, those rare moments in life when you find yourself struck dumb by the sheer force of your own delusions. "What a fool I am," you declare, staring blankly at the pain of realization. But after that something changes, and the very air you breathe tends to be much appreciated.

con paz

lyrics above courtesy The Sound of Music and Rogers and Hammerstein or whomever.

You like these? aren't they nice? Nothin will cheer you up faster than lookin at your own gaily painted toes.

Caption: Evil Empire Magnates and Bloviators

Isn't that guy on the left The Emperor from Star Wars? I thought so.... He looked better in his dark hoody. Clearly all the money in the universe can't do squat for a bad complexion. So there's some kharma comin round on him there... Plus Luke Skywalker must be lurkin around here somewhere..

Okay so it's Wednesday. So much to do and no will to do anything but immerse myself in the novels of Kent Haruf. One of the reasons I don't keep up with book reviews and new releases is so I can wander through someone's library and find an author I hadn't known existed, just when I figured I'd run through all the good ones. You really can't condone that kind of thinking now can you? It's a brand of defeatism that I find unconscionable given that there are always jillions of good writers out there to "befriend" by reading their books, hanging around and falling in love with their "people".

"Friend", a once revered noun and recent victim of the persistent and mindless wave of verbification that has swept the country since the 80s, has become a loose, deliberately vague, and fairly meaningless term. Recent experiences have confirmed this: people have no idea anymore what a friend really is, or what it means to be one.

My notion of friendship always included respect, loyalty, trust. I don't believe I've known more than a handful of people in the entire world I could truly call a friend. So all this stupid INTERNET (why yes, I'll gladly hand over my most personal information to the international human marketing database; I'm a good citizen!) "friending" makes me want to crawl in the nearest cave and never come out. And that's where I am, metaphorically speaking, today.. in my cave.. just like a man when he doesn't want to deal, according to some bestselling book anyway. Few women have the cave luxury; there's always someone tuggin on our clothing or our heart, needing something, be they small or grownup, and we, being who we are, feel duty bound to respond, to be 'on call' all the time. For that reason we tend to want to confront a problem now, clear it up, and get on to the next thing. No time for cave sitting. But I'm just gettin used to not being on call, and it's strange, to say the least. Maybe I should do what my pal Glo did, just sail off, literally, into the sunset, check out of 'on call' status for good. I guess I'm workin on it but the idea is hard to get used to. Devotion to duty is a hard habit to break, whether you're a mom, a hooker, or a nun.

Again, recommending the novels of Mr. Haruf, who publishes infrequently, but the quality of the writing... ahhh... savor that... rare indeed. Plainsong ... Eventide, both wonderful stories, wonderful people to be around. Models of human behavior and feeling we would do well to seek in ourselves now and again. I read somewhere the New York Times reviewer mocked Eventide as having characters that were too nice. Clearly that reviewer had never lived in the West of ranchers and desolate places or stark beauty. that reviewer is likely the kind of person who's incapable of meandering treasure hunts as well. No imagination. No heart. I was deeply moved by these novels' characters, and if you're reading this, so will you be.

And who credits what the Times says these days anyway? Look at that trash article they devoted ten pages or so to in the magazine comin up. (I added my two bits to the comments section.) About that gossip columnist Mike Allen –The Louella Parsons of DC. I could see one page, but front page and then some, about gossip? Pullleese. Better you should read what the guy's really about at the respectable website Media Matters, a great resource for bullsheet identification. (No mention of any of these faux pas by the author of the Times piece, a pal of his.) As my hero Lewis Lapham said recently: The recycling of gossip is easier than the assembling of facts.

My Friends, this is the kind of stuff we must pay attention to – de boolsheet that passes for journalism, both in print media and on cable, especially on fact-challenged FOX. I know FOX fans, good people of whom I am fond, and I often wonder if these well meaning FOX fans are even capable of discerning the line between fact and opinion. Opinion that is delivered with such wild conviction, viewers assume it's fact, when it's not.

Of course with so many of our mediocre schools downsizing by firing teachers (as many as 300,000 next year they say) and a few administrators (who earn far more than teachers and do little for it) and going to a 4 day schoolweek to save a few bucks – plenty of money for wars though! Have no fear, you can always join the army! – I guess such ignorance is to be expected. Even an American college degree doesn't guarantee you know how to think for yourself. Cause it's become "inflated". About the same as having graduated high school back in the day, they say, quality wise. Now nearly every state is flat broke, and, no we don't need no more gubmint hep! So maybe you cain't even finish high school.. well... Whut's wrong witchoo? Stand on your own two feet and be a man, git a f*%king job. Such is the cry of the new "conservative" movement, who, surprisingly, seem to have, many of them, been born sucking on silver spoons; others graduated from public schools, drive the nation's highways wearing seatbelts that have saved lives, some are living on pensions, government or otherwise, carrying Medicare cards in their wallets, glad to call on police when a burglar threatens their property, or the National Guard when there's a flood. Gubmint, people. That's Gubmint.

Sometimes I wonder if, where and how often these Teabag folks attended school. I believe they'd argue with anyone claiming to produce real facts refuting their fanaticism. Flat Earthers, every one of 'em.

What a sublime day it was on the playa de nuevo hersey. 70 degrees and a smattering of fisherman, clearly in seventh heaven, their faces serene as they stare out to sea, who cares what they catch? Fishing for stripers. The sea is calm, an old work shirt blue, the skitterbirds delightedly pattering in and out of the waters edge en masse looking for lunch – all is right with the world. I meander this beach and feel part of all that surrounds me, blessed, soft, with bright pink painted nails and pockets full of gold.

Found treasure above, thin, its translucency and color measured in karats, traded in an exchange in which only the young at heart are willing to invest.

Is that Headohair Helmki on bass?

Chilly morning here at the shore, nice breeze, cozy gas fire (who knew gas could be so nice? But it's a Jotul so I'm not surprised.) Heats the whole place. No wood to chop or carry. Has its place I guess, certainly right now when the very idea of dealing with wood makes me too tired to live. Got my loaf of fresh baked semolina high top bread for toast.. am set for days.

And I am sorry if I left anybody hangin (seems doubtful but you never know). Lots of changes in the air that seem to have moved in with the nice, crisp cold front. But the sky is crystalline blue today, that cleansing, cold front blue, not the infinite spaciousness of a Canadian High blue, but I'll take it. T is in Beantown looking at apartments and I'm trying to get past thinking I can't get to the bottom of whatever has me temporarily frozen in place. Just sit with it usually works, and write something, but the body wants to move! An adventure! I did get a new journal notebook as the old one was plumb full, so that's good. But you know you need serious reassessment and maybe a good swift kick in the pants when you spend a few hours on a nice Sunday afternoon indoors with Wayne Dyer, that baldheaded PBS fundraiser, and his new batch of rules to combat what ails ya. The word pathetic comes to mind. He did have some good things to say, and is not without a certain alopeciaic charm.

So, lacking any particular inspiration, there are a few things I thought I'd pass along that are worth noting on the planet today.

The first with regard to that newly minted batch of crazy americans who feel compelled to cast the appointment of a new US Supreme Court Justice as a Vietnam era hearts and minds battle for the soul of the nation. Who lob the word activist at nominees as though it were one of those heinous sins for which every one must now publicly atone, like adultery or missing church, and for which forgiveness is unlikely to ever be forthcoming from a such righteous congress and Christian nation. And by the way, isn't what these crazies do activism? What's wrong with activism? Would they have us all turn into couch potato (that's potato, no "e", Mr. Quayle) jowl-dragging fatties like them? And what about all these right wing lobbyists? Just activists in pricey wing tips, or Italian loafers.. whatever.

Darling Justice Stevens, who wrote a scathing dissent in Bush v. Gore that every american must actually read, is retiring. So while the right is crankin up the propaganda panic machine like an old tin lizzie and expecting us all to go along for the ride, Prof. Jeffrey Stone deftly and coherently hacks a clear path through the mumbo jumbo jungle of misinformation the paranoid nutjobs will be trying to manufacture. If the idea of another battle over judges makes you want to crawl back under the covers, read this little op ed and feel refreshed!

I love Stevens 'cause his frank yet poetic closing words in Bush v Gore were these:

Time will one day heal the wound to that

confidence that will be inflicted by today’s decision. One

thing, however, is certain. Although we may never know

with complete certainty the identity of the winner of this

year’s Presidential election, the identity of the loser is

perfectly clear. It is the Nation’s confidence in the judge

as an impartial guardian of the rule of law.

Take that, Fox "news"!

On a lighter note, I sure do miss havin pets. It's the only aspect of a more settled life I do miss. What would our lives be without animals to tell us how to have fun and enjoy life? Have you seen this guy? And what about these two- state solution impresarios who are clearly privy to some delightful divine light to which Mr. NuttinYahoo is not? I say send the animules to the middle east to knock some heads together.

There's news that maternal mortality rates have declined noticeably as a result of international efforts and some serious monies aimed at that goal. So, a positive there.

But leave it to some party pooper to spoil the fun with news that, having tested them, we now know that most of our math teachers are just too stupid to be believed. (One wonders if the formerly higher maternal mortality rates were greeted with a similar collective moue from the abstinence only crowd of educators.) And apparently students don't! Believe them, that is. The whole article (do read it, be informed not just opinionated) describes what many of us have known for years. the majority of American math teachers are -- surprise! -- NOT mathematicians! I was to discover this sad fact years ago when, as i sat at the teachers' lunch table -- i was subbing that day -- and asked my daughter's high school math teacher if he'd mind refreshing my mind as to the process, the actually mathematical process, of figuring the square root of a number. I seemed to recall that my learning that process in the seventh or eighth grade had been a quantum leap forward in my mathematical thinking. This guy (who in ensuing years was lauded for his teaching prowess, despite his prodigious flatulence) hemmed and hawed some, giving me excuses like that kids just estimate or use calculators these days (um, when I took the math SATs in 1965 they didn't allow calculators. Can you imagine! Maybe a slide rule, but for sure you didn't bring your friggin adding machine to a math test! ) "Kids today don't need to know that", he said. Ignoring this utterly unbelievable stupidity, I asked if he'd "just refresh my memory on this little piece of paper here, would you? Just show me how you do figure out the square root of a number, huh? I remember it looks kinda like long division." In the end he had to admit it: he didn't know how to figure out the square root of a number. This guy was a math teacher! Certified to teach math.

Say whut?

So this little article is no surprise to me. If you read down the study results you find that teachers seem to be doing a fine job through about fourth grade, two times two equals duh.

But what I've been ranting about for years holds up: Beyond the fourth grade, teachers should have majored in the subject they are teaching. They need to have had the passion for math required to MAJOR in Mathematics, not "Math Education" – in some education college, which may gear you up to teach math but not to love it – but Mathematics. If you don't love a subject enough to major in it (or you aren't tenacious enough), you shouldn't be teaching it! Cause your students will know you don't care enough about the subject matter to have put the time in. So why should they? Simple. Trouble is, on top of these "certified" math teachers you got all these Education degree folks assessing the teachers. Blonde leading blonde, you ask me, ever since the explosion of Education College graduates in the early 70s with their new math (as if!) and pedagogical gobbledygook.

Don't tell me a classroom full of wired kids wouldn't be AWED DEAD SILENT if confronted with the likes of Stephen Hawking's passion for his subject... I'm just sayin...

And speaking of classrooms, check this out when you have an hour to spare. Especially if you're under 30 years of age, do yourself a favor and watch this little gemola I happened on. Our New Digital Nation on Frontline. Don't miss this, or think you already know what it has to tell us. I was blown away, especially by the Army thing in the mall. In fact, while you're watching it, have a paper and pencil handy and write down every bullsheet meme that crosses the screen, or your mind. Quite a few come out of the mouth of the guy making zillions off kids whose lives have now boiled down to an "addiction" to games. Sleazeball – Just a notch below a made guy, ya know? maybe worse.

Remember: The lesson of the 60s, 70s and 80s was what? What's goin on behind the scenes is always, always worse than you think. Who would have thought MIT students could sound (be?) so dumb?

To quote Bill and Ted: Whoa.

I'm gonna go see if I can actually get some work done, after I walk that beach awhile.

Later, Multi-Digitators.

Tsaves a horseshoe crab from certain death on the beach below right.

T and I hiked nearly 8 miles of beach yesterday, barely made it back, (of course we took no snack, no water) up to and around the northeast end of the island, most of which is just a gorgeous stretch of unspoiled bird sanctuary land, eddies and shell middens, what appeared to be an old fishing weir, one old shipwreck (over 300 have occurred here over the years), the odd surf fisherman, and just an all around nice killer walk. I recommend walking long distances, a meander, a saunter, Mr. Thoreau called it, to relieve the spirit of burdens and recast one's perspective as to what's truly important in life. Not to mention the added benefit of having one of those "I made it!" moments of physical triumph.

Money Worries? Who doesn't have them? (Sane people, that's who.) But nothing works better to put the almighty dollar in perspective than to, for a brief part of the day, get up, go outside, and, as you start to meander, mentally disengage from the press of material life and have an adventure. With an entirely new agenda you adopt a new paradigm concerning lucre. Let your free will off its leash, look around and decide that little things you find for free, pinecones, feathers, rocks, even plastic toys or things others have cast off, are the most valuable treasures on the planet. Gather these to your bosom. What begins as a game ends up a real attitude changer. If you are someone who feels incapable of such fantasy, I got news for you. No amount of money on earth will ever stop you worrying about money or the future. This thought should underlie our every waking moment: The material(-istic) world I live in is a false construct geared to enslaving the human spirit.

T and I have been walking the beach every day in search of 'treasure', those translucent, golden shells we call tinkleshells. Each and every time we cast our eye on one, half buried in the sand, we bend to pick it up with an excitement that's every bit as acute as if we had found a priceless gold dubloon. We tuck them carefully in our sweatshirt pouches and, later, when we gently desposit all this booty on the kitchen table, we are rich as Croesus. (It's how I used to feel as a struggling single mother when I'd return from the public library with a mile high stack of books -- I'm rich!) All because we allowed our imaginations a couple of hours of unburdened meander in search of what was 'treasure' only because we perceived it as such. But who's to say is isn't treasure? Greenspan? Who listens to him any more? He's just a sodden, sagging collection of lame excuses and liver spots. So... you get the idea? Daily meandering -- and I mean meander, not purposeful exercise walking! --is important, every bit as important, perhaps more so, than those hours we spend trying to figure out how on earth we can possibly come out ahead in this twisted game of life where only the bad guys seem to be carrying off the planet's riches.

Cuz if there's one thing decades of walking this planet have taught me it's that the one thing that will keep me from solving a problem, from "getting ahead of the game", (what game? whose game? Quoi? I don't want to play your crap game!), from figuring out solutions to apparent dilemmas, it's WORRY. Worry closes the door to imagination and dreams and love, slams it shut in fact. Before you know it, the very dreams that made you want to live before --you can't even recall! So, take a one hour meander, if that's all the time you can spare. Give yourself over to a childlike fantasy while you walk. No matter where you're walking. Imaginations are people too! Take 'em out and let 'em dream and breathe! I highly recommend it. Have faith in tiny treasures found along the way. Every spiritual teacher you can think of said the same thing: Unless you become as a child you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven... the one that is "within you".

Today's word? TAKE A HIKE! And pretend you're Nancy Drew while you're out there!

SO... get this.

In the "too funny to be believed" Harpers Weekly this week:

..

Why Europeans have more fun.

Hundreds of Carlsberg brewery employees walked off the job in
Copenhagen to protest the company's new policy of allowing
beer drinking only at lunchtime

AND

For better or worse?

two women were arrested after
attempting to board a plane from Liverpool to Berlin with
a dead 91-year-old whom they claimed to believe was
sleeping. "He was alive," protested the dead man's
wife. "He was pale but he wasn't dead."

How many men have I known of whom I could say that very thing?

later, agitators

Oh, might i mention that i am not impressed with these new ant traps i got. It would appear the sugar ants have got the word about and are conscienciously avoiding the traps. Snubbing them in fact. what i get for buying from dow chemical, the lovely folks who brought us useful household items like agent orange. Looks like i'm gonna have to get my shoe out again...

So allow me a wistful commentary on lessons learned as the sun sets on this phase of my life:

A ship that sits in a harbor is safe,

But that's not what ships are for.

Besides there are whoa worse things in the world than my little heartache. Like this email from the ACLU confirming the old adage that Mean People Suck:

We've told you about the ACLU lawsuit on behalf of Constance McMillen, the Mississippi student whose school canceled the prom rather than let her attend with her girlfriend. Last month, a federal judge in Mississippi ruled that the school violated Constance's First Amendment rights. However, the judge was satisfied by the school's promise that Constance would be welcome at a private prom, so he did not force the school to put its own prom back on.

What happened next is shocking.

Last Friday, Constance went to a private dance that was billed as the school prom. The event—attended by Constance, her date and five other students—was essentially a decoy event. According to news reports, virtually all of the other students went to a parent-sponsored prom to which Constance was not invited.

Speak out against the pain and hurt that intolerance causes.

So many people have contacted us because they are outraged by this situation and want to do something. I can tell you from my conversations with Constance that there's nothing she wants more than for these kinds of hurtful actions to end for students all across the country.

There's a way we can all help Constance with that goal— by demanding that Congress pass the Student Non-Discrimination Act.

The Student Non-Discrimination Act would be the first comprehensive federal prohibition against discrimination in public schools based on a student's sexual orientation or gender identity.

Please help make schools safer for all students like Constance by urging your Representative to support the Student Non-Discrimination Act.

Discrimination and harassment are an unacceptable daily reality for too many LGBT students all across the country. If outrageous experiences like the one Constance McMillen has been through are going to end, we have to respond.

Thank you for standing with us.

Sincerely,

James Esseks
Director, LGBT Project

P.S. We understand the outrage people feel around stories like this. Instead of directing outrage at the people in Mississippi, let's channel our outrage into action by getting the Student Non-Discrimination Act passed.

When is someone gonna truss that porker Haley Barbour and send him up to Memphis to be barbequed? (Although I do feel a little sorry for him... I mean, who named dat chile Haley? Like Haley Mills? or what?

And I thought Mississippians were nice! LIke my Nanny used to say, "Oh, pshaw!"

"When a man's an empty kettle
He should be on his mettle
And yet I'm torn apart
Just because I'm presumin'
That I could be kinda human
If I only had a heart"

And let's not forget Elizabeth Gilbert's memorable words, which should give us pause but never seem to stop us in time:

"I have fallen in love more times that I can count with the highest potential of a man, rather than the man himself, and then hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes for too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness... in romance I have been the victim of my own optimism."

And from my sweet sweet Larry McMurtry and his Telegraph Days: "Stinginess is one of the qualities I can't tolerate in a fellow. A man who can't be freehanded with you in a store is likely to backhand you somewhere along the way."

(Times like these I rely on other peoples' words as i have trouble finding my own.)

So! I guess that pretty much sums it up. Another fifteen years in two measly paragraphs.

one side of the island (three miles of it, actually)

and on the other side.. looks like Dubai

"If you're afraid of butter, just use cream." Julia Child

So I just watched Julie and Julia, in need of a serious dose of the indomitable Julia, wonderful Paree, plenty of butter, and great food. Wasn't she lucky to have such a wonderful husband? I think the film was very faithful to the real story as I'd read her autobiog just before seeing the film and he really did seem to be always delighted by, grateful for, and responsive to her amazing passion and exuberance. You never got the sense he wished she'd 'tone it down'. Rather the opposite. I'd seen the film in the theatre, prepared to hate it as I do love Julia so, a lifelong mentor of mine since my very early twenties. But the film was wonderful. Her awesome array of cooking gear alone leaves me salivating. Add that one to the list of flicks that can be relied on to drag me out of a funk without fail: Legally Blond , White Palace, Bull Durham, GI Jane, To Kill a Mockingbird, Gone With the Wind, Terminator 2, and there are others. Better than drugs and alcohol any day cause they give you hope with no nasty side effects.

Add to the list any recommendations as I am sure to need some in the near future. See comments area.

See ya'll manana when we will discuss the viability of The SKYPE BAR, where we all get together at a designated time one night a week via Skype, engage in unhealthy behaviors like drinking wine and waving unlit cigarettes around in the air (those of us who've quit), complain about whatever, laughbitchnmoan and generally have a good time with like minded friends who are at some remove. T and I are exploring this possibility and will keep you posted.

That's my pal in Tiananmen Square exercising her right to free speech last year! HA! Take that you nazi swine!

So check this out if you haven't seen it already. It's Annie Leonard's (bless 'er) always entertaining, funny and witty latest, The Story of Bottled Water, a must see for all those who have yet to get aboard with a Kleen Kanteen or the like, eschewing the purchase of high polluting bottles of H2O made by your local petrochemical factory and filled with the same tap water you could get for free if your brain was functioning properly and responsibly.

I really admire people like Annie who aren't afraid to say at the outset

"1. We're trashing the planet.

2. We're trashing each other.

3. And we're not even having fun."

There's a gal with true vision who has her priorities in order.

She puts her money where her mouth is, on a refillable metal water bottle. Check out her Story of Stuff if you're feeling overwhelmed by all you possess as well. It'll cheer you up! More on that issue later. A piece on the Story of Cap and Trade is great as well!! Her work is supported in part by the Environmental Working Group (who oughta be up for Nobel Prizes if you ask me. You know, the same folks who brought you the cosmetic database!? Send them some money!)

Later, prestidigitators!

Big Shoutout to the Sukester, belated Happy Birthday wishes, deah! And to darlin Av, sunning in Brighton? Many happy returns!

Given the recent contention in some circles that it's up to the Democratic Party to reinstitute some semblance of civil discourse in the public sphere, here's an interesting discussion about editorial ethics I encountered this morning. When is the f word okay, and when is it not? I think the guy has a good point.

Check it out.

wonderful forts built from trash by gnomes, note moats

April showers here. Nice dripdripdrip out the open window to wake up to. It's the best kind of alarm clock. Rainy days at the beach.

That's the spectral Atlantic City Boardwalk in the hazy distance above, and yours truly slouching toward the library via the beach with a pack full of books. T and I walk the beach every day, picking up trash and interesting shells, the trash to deposit in one of the ginormous trash cans the town leaves at every single entrance to the beach, so clearly whoever left the friggin trash on the beach could have deposited their trash in the can on the way back to wherever they were aiming to pollute next. And folks with their dogs! You simply would not believe how many dogowners are fully convinced if they walk their dog near the dunes, let it off the leash for a moment, let it do its business, and releash that canine, no harm is done. At the core of their belief system seems to be the notion that the ocean is one vast flushing mechanism that will completely eradicate any evidence of the dog's passing (whatever it passed). I see folks doing this every single day. It's really just so gross the way everyone, I mean without exception, everyone (and there aren't many folks on the beach this time of year, so I can pretty much generalize on a small scale) seems convinced this beach is here for their convenience alone, for the dog to crap on, for them to leave their bottles and trash on. Someone needs to clue these folks in: It is NO LONGER 1850! The world is no longer the pristine place it was before the petrochemical industry became king! It may LOOk similar but it is definitely NOT the same place! It's saturated with crap! I am, yet again, suddenly mindful of the opening line of the film "Sex, Lies, and Videotape" and Andi McDowell's character moaning: What are they gonna do with all the garbage? to her shrink -- the vast sea of invisible garbage that looks deceptively blue unless you look to closely at the brown eddies washing ashore carrying waves of plastic debris. Or put a drop of that water under a microscope...

I watched a bevy of teens lounging against the dunes leave a dozen empty soda bottles and a towel scattered all around them and split. The public education system is failing indeed if these kids don't yet realize there are consequences for them and their kids in such actions as those bottles get pulverized into microscopic bits of plastic chemical shards that find their way into the fish sticks Mom microwaves for them and the very sand they are lounging on, the water they swim in and drink.

These aren't aberrant behaviors, they are the norm here. EVery single person walking a dog lets it crap on the beach and pretends not to see. Which brings me (quoting Colbert) to today's word:

Deniability

Have you ever noticed the phenomenon of, for example, folks who are all about buying green, socially responsible products, who love to tell you their latest discovery, and who turn right around and buy plastic bottles of water by the dozen, refuse to recycle, dumping everything in the garbage for someone else to deal with, drive gas guzzlers when they do not live on a ranch or have a need for such vehicles, and are uncomfortable with conversations involving "carbon footprints" and passionate political thought? Who give you that look if you go there?

Puts me in mind of the episode of South Park about the Smug Alert. I am not a South Park fan. John Stewart, Yes. But my son, knowing where his mom's at, told me about this one, and, as much as I have objected to the crassness of that show, I had to give it to him, this one was right on target. The premise: A cloud of Smug hangs over LA. It comes from, as the writers comment, the incredible smugness they witness in folks who, for example, drive hybrids -- on the way to their private jets! (The theme song is a scream, the epitome of bad, repetitive, "deep meaning", hot tub soaking, we- are- the- world kinda stuff, song lyrics my brother used to call "another tune about dysfunctional relationships". ) You say, Yeah! these South Park fellas are onto something. And you'd be right, here's proof!

From a truly fascinating study from Canada I found this morning in "Psychological Science" online. It turns out that mere exposure to green, socially responsible ideas tends to make folks behave better, that is, make better moral choices than those who actually buy those products. And the reason? Apparently actually buying green creates an immediate and long lasting smug response that activates a sense of entitlement (or what I would call "specialness") in the green consumer, rendering their subsequent social/moral decisions less ethical than those of folks who are simply exposed to the notion of social responsibility (or surrounded by it -- seems to me this speaks to a greater need for more "socially responsible/globally mindful" public spaces and enhanced ubiquity of such messages, eh?). Turns out folks who actually shopped for and bought green products were more likely to steal or lie later on than those who were merely exposed to the idea of green , socially responsible consumerism. Now ain't that a kick in the head? No wonder Al Gore's so smug! His entire estate is green! To quote the study's conclusion:

"People do not make decisions in a vacuum; their decisions are embedded in a history of behaviors. In three studies, we considered prosocial and ethical decision making in the context of past consumer behaviors and demonstrated that the halo associated with green consumerism has to be taken with reservations. Although mere exposure to green products can have a positive societal effect by inducing prosocial and ethical acts, purchasing green products may license indulgence in self-interested and unethical behaviors."

Any ol' catholic school attendee will tell you 'bout dat "halo" effect; that going to confession gives you a clean slate to go out and sin with abandon. It's the same with green shoppers, many of them anyway. They like the hipness of the edgy green consumer space (like rednecks fell in love with long hair once they realized it could cover their godawful ears), but haven't a clue what it really means to be part of that. Being part of "that" requires mindful, willing sacrifice, as stated in the study, and sacrifice for the greater good is just not on their radar. (Is this the same convenience mentality for whom slavery would not have been an issue in 1850, who would have appreciated the upside of Hitler's new society? Who voted for Bush cause they thought he'd stop givin folks the finger in public once he got to the white house?) Ask the folks who work at Whole Paycheck and can't form a union, who have to live with the sneaky suspicion their bosses, pseudo-progressives at best (what we used to call co-opters in the old days) who, despite the lavender scented washroom soap dispensers, are basically me- me- pick-me sort of folks, adamantly anti- single payer health insurance or reform of any kind that might pinch their bottom line. Faux hip is nothin new.

Read the whole study. It's not very long, the details are very revealing, and it's written in a lay-enough lingo for anyone to follow.

We are all prey to such tendencies to pat ourselves on the back, forgetting that we, all of us, are, in fact, the ones who have allowed things to get as screwed up as they are. Come to the beach and take a good look. What's all that brown foamy stuff? And for chrissakes, bring a bag and pick up some trash while you're at it.

just this today... where i'm at...

if you've got nuttin to say, best say nuttin...

speechless after finishing Oates "Little Bird of Heaven"

Friends, Romans, and country(wo)men!

It's a free country (well, if you can afford it) so please feel free to say" hey!", comment, or whatever floats your boat below each post, K? I'd love to hear from you. Let me know you're out there! Just click on the 'comments' thingy and wail away in the box provided!

signed,

the Jersey Girls at the beach

double indemnity?

It's Easter Monday, and here I thought I had nothin to write about! My novel begins on Easter Monday, for one thing. True, I should probably be reading that over and doing some editing, or writing pleading letters to potential agents. But here I seem to have all these photos in my Blackberry, taken over the last few days, and which appear to document actual events I can write about, whether they interest anyone or not. It's surely your call.

First of all, let me say I was mighty disappointed not to have had time to purchase a package of yellow marshmallow Peeps before the Easter holiday arrived. T and I had determined that an experiment to discover the result of roasting yellow peeps over a charcoal fire was a worthy enterprise, but they were out of them at the local small market, and it was just too damn foggy on Saturday, Holy Saturday they used to call it, for me to venture forth across the island to the Acme to try my luck there. So we grilled slices of fresh pineapple instead for dessert and they were fine, just faaahhhhne, as my Great Aunt Baby would say, elongating that "I" in like it was some dream she was reluctant to awaken from. In the diary of her seventeenth summer she described everything from a parcheesi game to church attendance as faaahhhne! She was easy to please I guess.

But not to worry, today the sun is shining and i shall hie off the the acme and see what's leftover from the easter sweets. Maybe the grilled Peeps experiment is still in the offing.

We headed off island on Friday in the direction of Marlton NJ, location of a Whole Paycheck and a Trader Joe's thinking to stock up on some healthy bargains. Not a bad drive, really, and I just love looking at all the old farm stands, not open yet, and the world of possibility manifest in old shacks and cement block businesses gone bust along highway 30. Every building seems to tell a story of someone's dream gone awry, and that's a shame, one we call all relate to one way or another.

We hadn't gone 5 miles before I noticed my trusty voiture (all recent 8,000 miles of wear on it!) had a bizarre wobble in the steering wheel; something seemed to be dragging one wheel along in a shivering, reluctant fashion. Of course I'm on the causeway over a large body of water when I notice this, and hobble along at 35 mph trying to get a feel for things, finally deciding, well, might as well hop on the AC expressway and see what happens. And happen something did: Immediately I smellburning metal, the wobble getting worse, and I figure, well, pull over, fool and check your tire pressures. Tire pressure fine. But when I leaned down to check the passenger side, the heat from the wheel like to fried my arm. Stuck caliper. Knew it right away. Okay, so limp on down the road to the next exit, a short hop thankfully and on to Joe Parisi's Pleasantville garage, where, God bless him, Joe had me in a new pair of calipers and hoses (old was rotted) and on my way in only three hours. In the interim Joe insisted on making what he said was his world class coffee, and when I asked him if there were any bakeries nearby, he sent a guy out for donuts!! Talk about service! Happily it was sunny and warm out and T and I took the opportunity to sun ourselves on an available auto hood while they fixed the car. I did take one photo of an old lady's (a class of person with whom I identify more each morning when I look in the mirror) interior who had pulled up ranting about a 'clacking' sound, you know the kind she means, the sound that is never there when the mechanic drives the car. I liked her rear view mirror talisman; I called the picture Double Indemnity and wonder if she knows it's sacrilegious to hang a rosary from a mirror like that. She was the panicky type and had dyed her hair way too many times. But I liked her bling visor hat.

So we finally managed to get our food shopping done. Sorry to say, despite the bargains I always find at Trader Joe's, I seem to have come home with apple juice over its sell-by date with a vinegar mother in it and 4 bucks worth of completely rotten peaches packaged in a darling basket, brown as toast inside when you open them. What I get for buying peaches out of season. In my own defense, it was not I who put the apple juice in the cart but the I'm-ever-struggling-to-be-mindful T, who checks sellby dates only now and then. I am a paranoid about them generally. T insists dumpster divers swear sellby dates are bull. I hope she's learned her lesson. The dumpster divers' creed may well apply to Twinkies, but not to unfiltered organic apple juice! The very idea!! I will of course call the store and ream them out today about shoddy oversight and their reputation.

Easter was uneventful. A beautiful day, the Lord apparently pleased enough with his people (probably because they finally elected a black man -- that's right, according to the paper, the President listed "black" as his race on his census form, and why not? I expect we can all lay claim to any number of racial genetic profiles if the truth be told!)) to shower them with sunshine this Easter. Such isn't always the case, as you would know if you read the first chapter of my novel. That is, if you could, if it was published.

Anyway, I'm avoiding the work I must do by reading a few novels. Haven't had much time to read the last two months, what with driving and logistical planning and sightseeing and research and blogging and all.

I started with The Girl at the Lion d'Or by Sebastian Faulks, an impeccable writer, deeply satisfying, dreamy. Cautionary tale for both women and men. I recommend it.

Tony had recommended The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (his batting average with me when it comes to books is pretty good) and I managed to finally get a copy from the local libe. Apparently it's the latest thing to read, a waiting list with a movie just coming out and all. Good story, ok writing, nothing to write home about as they say, but a compelling plot (unlike, say, Dan Brown's books) and I did love the ending and will read the sequels, eager to root for the devilishly smart girl of the title and her awesomely designed heist. Better to have a full bank account than a half- assed lover with commitment issues. A lesson well learned early in life. You go, girl.

Found a book of essays (Passion for Peace, The Social Essays) by Thomas Merton at McMurtry's Booked Up in Texas. The first essay entitled "The Root of War is Fear" is just brilliant. If there was ever an american writer to make us look brutally honestly and fearlessly at ourselves it is Merton. I thought I had read everything he'd written and was delighted to find this collection of letters. When I read Merton I feel like I've come home. Like standing in the middle of the Place de la Concorde for the first time. Funny the books you stumble upon that change your life.

Started reading John Irving's latest, Last Night in Twisted River, and it is rich and chewy, as Ed Sullivan would say, wunnerful, wunnerful. Have put that down for a bit as a book by Joyce Carol Oates just seemed to leap into my hand last trip to the libe, and I simply cannot resist her as I know she'll never disappoint and will always "speak for me", she will say something important, make some (many) telling observation (s) I've always wished someone would point out -- about oh .. what it is to be an impressionable child victim of the subtle shenanigans that go on between consenting adults, for example. I worship her. And she's just right over there an hour away at the uni. The book: I know Little Bird of Heaven will not disappoint. Already I can't put it down and it's a miracle I did just to say "hey" today. You may not hear from me for a couple days now.

Here's another nice quote from ol' JR I thought you'd appreciate.

He's in the 'family room' at Southfork Ranch, in the midst of yet another family crisis, probably of his doing. No one seems to know what to do, they're all just standing around gabbing, waiting. JR comes out with : "Well, I'm just fryin meat here. I got to go DO something!" and leaves.

Fryin meat! ?? quoi? T and I laughed ourselves silly. Later, alligators.