Do these jeans make my butt look single? Maybe it’s my deceptively youthful hairdo.
When I married for the second time nearly 10 years ago, I happily bid adieu forever to dating, which I never really enjoyed. Dating was invented so young people could choose the best spouse-for-life available. Over the decades – my teens, twenties, thirties and forties – dating seemed like a series of interviews for a job I probably didn’t want in a workplace where sexual harassment is a socially acceptable perk.
Now, at age 53, I find myself on the verge of a divorce I never expected and the recipient of male attention I never solicited. Men from my past and men who want a piece of my future - or a piece of something, anyway - are forcing me to recycle my trusty old polite refusals when I yearn to say, "I vant to be alone." I was unforgivably rude to the first gentleman who asked me out last fall after my marital collapse. I stared at the poor guy, horrified and completely unprepared to respond, squelching an inappropriate outburst of laughter. I quickly apologized and explained my complicated situation, but he was justifiably offended. Months later I saw him on The Millionaire Matchmaker.
My marriage may feel like a legal technicality that I can blissfully ignore until forcibly reminded of it, but I am assured that it is quite real in the eyes of God, whom I seek to please above all. My STBX (soon to be ex-husband) Luis has provided ample Biblical grounds to justify divorce, but the Bible makes clear that I may not remarry until he does and I'm fine with that. Nothing personal against the nice, attractive men I have met recently and I am flattered by their invitations, but dating is near the bottom of my list of Things to Do Before I Die, slightly above bungee jumping, worm eating and sword swallowing. I would be a very contented spinster if I had a companion as sweet and loving as my late, lamented, legendary Tigerlily. Unlike my STBX, my Maine Coon remained loyal to the end and never tom-catted around on me.
I met Luis several years after avowing that I had given up on men. I had been a single mom for a long time and was - still am - perfectly comfortable in that niche. I joked to friends that, if I tripped over a diamond, I would probably pick it up - which is figuratively how I met Luis, who came to work where I lived. I was so committed to avoiding another mistake that I put him through every conceivable premarital test of his maturity and character. My sister believed that God had sent him to me and, although I was well aware of his vanities and weaknesses, I considered myself the luckiest woman in the world.
I have been living with breast cancer for seven years and in stage 4, when it is considered incurable, since 2006. Luis deserves credit for being as loving and supportive as any woman battling cancer would want her husband to be - at least, he was during my first two episodes of cancer. He committed his life to Christ after my 2006 recurrence and presumptuously took credit for the miraculous remission that followed as though he had paid my debt to God and I was healed forever. When I was diagnosed at the end of 2008 with additional metastases that invaded my liver and thoracic region, Luis began to change in ways not outwardly apparent even to me, the person who knew him best.
During the course of my cancer treatment, I have grown several large tumors and seen them disappear as though they never existed. When Luis started to exhibit strange, scary, sadistic behavior toward me last July, I felt like I was watching the formation of a terrible malignancy that gobbled up all his good cells until he was unrecognizable and finally gone. Although he apologized for it before he moved out, he systematically and relentlessly tried to convince me to stop chemotherapy to die for his convenience. Like the tumors in my breast, on my hip and throughout my liver, Luis had become a thief and a murderer - and I would not wish him back. I will not let my STBX steal any of the blessings God has granted me, even if my peace and joy continue to confuse some men drawn to a smiling face.
I dare not second guess God and His plan for me, but I cannot imagine signing myself up for another experiment in romantic love. On a strictly superficial level, I would dread getting to that point in my relationship with Tom or Harry – I’m done with Dicks – when I am forced to reveal the physical battlefield of cancer. My body is like a topographic map of the doomed trail immortalized by the Donner party. This is where we slaughtered our oxen. There is the camp where we faced imminent death and agonized over our options to forestall it. Oops! Don't look here.
If I tried to write a personal profile for eHarmony, it would read like that old joke about a newspaper ad for a lost pet described thus: “Three legs, blind in one eye, tail broken, missing right ear, recently castrated. Answers to the name Lucky.” Nevertheless, I believe it is possible to find a kind, caring man who would accept me and my collateral damage. According to a new biography, Warren Beatty was more than willing to satisfy the desires of a woman whose husband rejected her after a mastectomy. But it is the invisible scar tissue holding my battered heart together that I don't want anyone to see or touch.
I learned a lot from my first divorce and vowed never to repeat it. I had wanted a baby in the worst way, so I married one. My first husband was emotionally paralyzed after childhood physical abuse and completely devoid of any relationship skills. When we actually had a son together, I foolishly expected him to be transformed into a devoted father. When I packed up and left, it was more habit-breaking than heartbreaking.
My STBX Luis, whom I loved and trusted more than anyone under God, stopped loving me because he finally acknowledged I was going to die and leave him alone. In a virtual instant, his tender feelings, his years of devotion, his humanity, his Christianity vanished. What lesson can I derive from this experience that would improve my next relationship? Don't get cancer? Don't die?
I helped raise two nephews. I adore my son and we have always been close. I'm not a man hater. I love and appreciate and sympathize with men. But it took me sixteen years before I would commit to another husband. During those single years, I was guided by the words of a wise friend and former in-law who told me, "Only a good man is better than no man at all." For eight years, I thought I found the very best man, but in truth my STBX was just as damaged as my first husband. He simply hadn't been tested yet.
My oncologist cannot guarantee me another sixteen months, much less years, to figure out what the hell happened. Frankly, I am so relieved after months of chaos and wickedness that I do not want to waste sixteen days analyzing my second marriage or my second husband. I have, as they say, moved on. I count as a blessing that Luis's mask dropped when I was still around to help my family adjust to the truth.
I have always been envious of the resilient optimism displayed by elderly couples who find last love in their twilight years, especially since cancer forced me to reassess my own measurement of time. I get misty-eyed thinking of all the people in this impatient world with so much to offer except the promise of longevity. I pondered and I wondered: Is there a dating service that caters to their needs? And does it have a drive-thru window?
As any Super Bowl quarterback can tell you, it takes uncommon courage to hear the 2 minute warning as a call to action when the temptation to run out the clock must be overwhelming. I seriously want to help these brave souls overcome fear and defy the odds - as seriously as any broke, terminally ill, determined spinster can be.
I already have a name, One Foot on a Banana Peel™, but I need a business model and some startup funds, thank you very much. If interested, please inquire within. That is one proposition I would gladly welcome!
Monday, February 08, 2010
Sunday, February 07, 2010
SB Sunday 2010
We're having a Super Bowl partay at our house catered by the Shingle Belle. That's just a silly nickname I'm using as I recover from a recurrence of the shingles probably caused by stress over finances and job instability. Apparently, shingles can strike twice, although God has blessed me with a much milder case than I had twenty years ago.
What's on the menu? Nothing on a shingle, I can assure you. The theme, if there is one, is clean-out-the-pantry-and-freezer-and-shake-down-the-avocado-tree. It's good stuff. Are you itchin' to come over?
Hot Spinach and Artichoke Dip
Crab Cocktail Dip
Layered Mexican Dip
Guacamole
Tostito Scooops
Ruffles Potato Chips
Cheese and Crackers
Deviled Eggs
No Bean Chili
Baby Back Ribs
Barbecue Beans
Bacon and Cheese Potato Casserole
Cheddar Scalloped Corn
Espresso Irish Cream Bundt Cake
Seriously, who objects to the Tim and Pam Tebow commercial from Focus on the Family? Wusses!
Here is another adorable ad that celebrates life - plus it has a song I can't get out of my head.
What's on the menu? Nothing on a shingle, I can assure you. The theme, if there is one, is clean-out-the-pantry-and-freezer-and-shake-down-the-avocado-tree. It's good stuff. Are you itchin' to come over?
Hot Spinach and Artichoke Dip
Crab Cocktail Dip
Layered Mexican Dip
Guacamole
Tostito Scooops
Ruffles Potato Chips
Cheese and Crackers
Deviled Eggs
No Bean Chili
Baby Back Ribs
Barbecue Beans
Bacon and Cheese Potato Casserole
Cheddar Scalloped Corn
Espresso Irish Cream Bundt Cake
Seriously, who objects to the Tim and Pam Tebow commercial from Focus on the Family? Wusses!
Here is another adorable ad that celebrates life - plus it has a song I can't get out of my head.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Listen to the Rhythm of the Pounding Rain
This afternoon I was watching the local news during my chemotherapy treatment to track the progress of the third storm system invading southern California this week, which thankfully did not wreak massive damage today as predicted. My inner jukebox began playing a series of rainy day songs, mostly treasures from my childhood. With a big nudge from Mr. Jukebox, I created a list of my favorites whittled down to thirteen, which follow in chronological order.
Long before he was a convicted killer, Phil Spector was the most influential record producer of the rock and roll era. He single-handedly revolutionized studio craft, which had been the domain of record label executives, and emboldened other pioneering artists, most notably Brian Wilson, to take greater control of their own product.
Spector was not a performer, but he developed a stable of talent whose recordings were bound by his trademark "wall of sound." The Ronettes, perhaps the most famous of Spector's girl groups, were named after lead singer Ronnie Bennett, who became Mrs. Spector and whose ballsy vocals are echoed by Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders and Shirley Manson of Garbage.
Walking in the Rain by the Ronettes (1964)
The career of Scott Walker is the cautionary tale of one man defying the odds, industry expectations and conventional wisdom. The Walker Brothers were an American trio, neither related by blood nor born with the surname Walker. During the 1960s British rock invasion of the U.S., they migrated against the tide to England where their chart success and fan club rivaled the Beatles'. Scott Walker remained in the U.K. but left the band for a solo career, embracing progressively more experimental styles and genres over the next four decades.
Walker was an early interpreter of Belgian troubadour Jacques Brel, introducing selections from his often risqué repertoire to the British audience on his first solo albums. David Bowie, who admits to emulating Scott's distinctive baritone and avant-garde sensibility, produced 30 Century Man, the acclaimed 2006 documentary about the reclusive Walker that is available on DVD.
Among his many achievements, Scott and the Walker Brothers recorded one of the very first music videos for their breakthrough single, The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore. At the age of ten, when my friends were still debating whether Paul or George was the cutest Beatle, I had my first serious crush on Scott Walker based on one album my sister left behind when she moved out.
The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore by the Walker Brothers (1966)
I owe my love of rock and roll to my sister, Donna, who was a decade older and had an eclectic music collection, which she generously shared with me despite the many vinyl records that I scratched and warped. She did some go-go dancing and modeling of sorts in the mid-1960s on the periphery of the burgeoning Hollywood rock scene when the East Coast folkies arrived to become the next big thing. Of all the folk rock groups she met, the Lovin' Spoonful and Buffalo Springfield were her favorites.
Rain on the Roof by the Lovin' Spoonful (1966)
The Cowsills were a real family, unlike the Partridge TV prototype they inspired, who were perhaps the first pop practitioners of what was later dubbed the bubblegum genre. Sugar in large doses can rot your teeth and overstimulate your pancreas, but who can resist a tasty, homemade confection like this?
The Rain, the Park and Other Things by the Cowsills (1967)
My sister enjoyed an amazing variety of music, none more than soul and R&B for which she had an undeniable mojo. I remember dancing with her in our den as a preschooler to the Brook Benton duets with Dinah Washington. Back in the early 1960s, she was often one of the few white girls at an Ike and Tina Turner Revue, but she was always a rebel and never let color lines inhibit her.
Brook Benton was an underrated talent with a fluid voice as smooth as ice cream melting on your tongue and prolific songwriting chops. When I was in junior high school, I thought his comeback hit single Rainy Night in Georgia was the most bittersweet romantic song I'd ever heard. In retrospect, I realize that my pubescent hormones were responding to the wistful, world weary sensuality of his vocal, especially his baritone range which he used ingeniously to punctuate his lyrics. Like Lou Rawls, when I listen to a Brook Benton record, I have a hard time imagining a better singer.
Rainy Night in Georgia by Brook Benton (1970)
Elvis Presley was a seminal rock and roll artist blessed with more charisma and soulful magic than was good for him. Regrettably, he was cursed with a greedy manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who attached his client to a long string of tacky movies and albums that tarnished the franchise. By the late 1960s, the King defied the Colonel to assert control over his languishing career. This redemptive era began with the milestone TV special, The '68 Comeback, followed by a series of Memphis recordings marked by great writing and production values that catapulted Presley back to his throne on the music charts, including If I Can Dream, Suspicious Minds and Kentucky Rain.
Kentucky Rain by Elvis Presley (1970)
I would have liked the Carpenters even if I hadn't met them repeatedly due to their close, longtime friendship with my high school chorus teacher. They seemed too normal and middle class to keep me in awe for long. Richard was an innately smart songwriter and arranger with a gift for picking the right cover song. Karen, a standout female alto crooner in an industry long dominated by sopranos and a competent drummer besides, was simultaneously the non-threatening girl next door and a unique musical presence. Her forlorn voice turned every melody into an ode to unrequited love, which paralleled her heartbreaking personal life.
Rainy Days and Mondays by the Carpenters (1971)
I am not really a John Mellencamp fan except for the brilliant Rain on the Scarecrow. Music is more compelling to me than lyrics and Mellencamp is foremost an unapologetic message artist, but his guitar lines hooked me immediately. Even my then two-year-old son Chris rocked out to the record.
Rain on the Scarecrow by John Mellencamp (1985)
Matt Johnson wrote and performed many wonderful songs that you probably never heard of but you should. After he disbanded The The, which was essentially Johnson backed by his session musicians du jour, he collaborated with revered artists including Johnny Marr and Sinead O'Connor, with whom he shared lead vocals on Kingdom of Rain. Johnson's incessant gum chewing distracted me from the romantic subplot of the video, but it's still a great song.
Kingdom of Rain by The The (1989)
Adrian Belew has carved out an interesting career as the singer and guitarist for the progressive rock group King Crimson, who recorded one of my all-time favorite songs, Heartbeat. Belew was also in great demand as a musician for hire by cutting edge artists - like David Bowie, David Byrne and Laurie Anderson - and a producer of two tracks on the Jars of Clay's debut album, including their crossover breakthrough hit Flood. I saw JOC at the Disneyland House of Blues in October 2007 and it was a completely satisfying concert experience.
Flood by the Jars of Clay (1995)
Shirley Manson of Garbage is one of my all-time favorite chick singers, the others being Roni Spector and Chrissie Hynde. I don't think Shirley would mind that description or being in such legendary company.
Only Happy When It Rains by Garbage (1995)
Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head was written by the inestimable Burt Bacharach and originally recorded by B.J. Thomas for the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid soundtrack. For his TV special One Amazing Night, Bacharach asked the Ben Folds Five to perform the 1960s classic. Ben Folds never fails to entertain and I especially enjoyed Bacharach's smiles of unabashed delight when the trio tweaked the original arrangement.
Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head by Ben Folds Five (1998)
Day of Fire recorded an amazing debut, Fire, with well-crafted, hook-laden songs. Their successive albums are not as accessible nor, in my opinion, appealing. I don't understand why artists such as DOF and JOC who are so gifted and soar in Christian contemporary music would prefer to sound ordinary and uninspired like the world.
Rain Song by Day of Fire (2004)
Long before he was a convicted killer, Phil Spector was the most influential record producer of the rock and roll era. He single-handedly revolutionized studio craft, which had been the domain of record label executives, and emboldened other pioneering artists, most notably Brian Wilson, to take greater control of their own product.
Spector was not a performer, but he developed a stable of talent whose recordings were bound by his trademark "wall of sound." The Ronettes, perhaps the most famous of Spector's girl groups, were named after lead singer Ronnie Bennett, who became Mrs. Spector and whose ballsy vocals are echoed by Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders and Shirley Manson of Garbage.
Walking in the Rain by the Ronettes (1964)
The career of Scott Walker is the cautionary tale of one man defying the odds, industry expectations and conventional wisdom. The Walker Brothers were an American trio, neither related by blood nor born with the surname Walker. During the 1960s British rock invasion of the U.S., they migrated against the tide to England where their chart success and fan club rivaled the Beatles'. Scott Walker remained in the U.K. but left the band for a solo career, embracing progressively more experimental styles and genres over the next four decades.
Walker was an early interpreter of Belgian troubadour Jacques Brel, introducing selections from his often risqué repertoire to the British audience on his first solo albums. David Bowie, who admits to emulating Scott's distinctive baritone and avant-garde sensibility, produced 30 Century Man, the acclaimed 2006 documentary about the reclusive Walker that is available on DVD.
Among his many achievements, Scott and the Walker Brothers recorded one of the very first music videos for their breakthrough single, The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore. At the age of ten, when my friends were still debating whether Paul or George was the cutest Beatle, I had my first serious crush on Scott Walker based on one album my sister left behind when she moved out.
The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore by the Walker Brothers (1966)
I owe my love of rock and roll to my sister, Donna, who was a decade older and had an eclectic music collection, which she generously shared with me despite the many vinyl records that I scratched and warped. She did some go-go dancing and modeling of sorts in the mid-1960s on the periphery of the burgeoning Hollywood rock scene when the East Coast folkies arrived to become the next big thing. Of all the folk rock groups she met, the Lovin' Spoonful and Buffalo Springfield were her favorites.
Rain on the Roof by the Lovin' Spoonful (1966)
The Cowsills were a real family, unlike the Partridge TV prototype they inspired, who were perhaps the first pop practitioners of what was later dubbed the bubblegum genre. Sugar in large doses can rot your teeth and overstimulate your pancreas, but who can resist a tasty, homemade confection like this?
The Rain, the Park and Other Things by the Cowsills (1967)
My sister enjoyed an amazing variety of music, none more than soul and R&B for which she had an undeniable mojo. I remember dancing with her in our den as a preschooler to the Brook Benton duets with Dinah Washington. Back in the early 1960s, she was often one of the few white girls at an Ike and Tina Turner Revue, but she was always a rebel and never let color lines inhibit her.
Brook Benton was an underrated talent with a fluid voice as smooth as ice cream melting on your tongue and prolific songwriting chops. When I was in junior high school, I thought his comeback hit single Rainy Night in Georgia was the most bittersweet romantic song I'd ever heard. In retrospect, I realize that my pubescent hormones were responding to the wistful, world weary sensuality of his vocal, especially his baritone range which he used ingeniously to punctuate his lyrics. Like Lou Rawls, when I listen to a Brook Benton record, I have a hard time imagining a better singer.
Rainy Night in Georgia by Brook Benton (1970)
Elvis Presley was a seminal rock and roll artist blessed with more charisma and soulful magic than was good for him. Regrettably, he was cursed with a greedy manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who attached his client to a long string of tacky movies and albums that tarnished the franchise. By the late 1960s, the King defied the Colonel to assert control over his languishing career. This redemptive era began with the milestone TV special, The '68 Comeback, followed by a series of Memphis recordings marked by great writing and production values that catapulted Presley back to his throne on the music charts, including If I Can Dream, Suspicious Minds and Kentucky Rain.
Kentucky Rain by Elvis Presley (1970)
I would have liked the Carpenters even if I hadn't met them repeatedly due to their close, longtime friendship with my high school chorus teacher. They seemed too normal and middle class to keep me in awe for long. Richard was an innately smart songwriter and arranger with a gift for picking the right cover song. Karen, a standout female alto crooner in an industry long dominated by sopranos and a competent drummer besides, was simultaneously the non-threatening girl next door and a unique musical presence. Her forlorn voice turned every melody into an ode to unrequited love, which paralleled her heartbreaking personal life.
Rainy Days and Mondays by the Carpenters (1971)
I am not really a John Mellencamp fan except for the brilliant Rain on the Scarecrow. Music is more compelling to me than lyrics and Mellencamp is foremost an unapologetic message artist, but his guitar lines hooked me immediately. Even my then two-year-old son Chris rocked out to the record.
Rain on the Scarecrow by John Mellencamp (1985)
Matt Johnson wrote and performed many wonderful songs that you probably never heard of but you should. After he disbanded The The, which was essentially Johnson backed by his session musicians du jour, he collaborated with revered artists including Johnny Marr and Sinead O'Connor, with whom he shared lead vocals on Kingdom of Rain. Johnson's incessant gum chewing distracted me from the romantic subplot of the video, but it's still a great song.
Kingdom of Rain by The The (1989)
Adrian Belew has carved out an interesting career as the singer and guitarist for the progressive rock group King Crimson, who recorded one of my all-time favorite songs, Heartbeat. Belew was also in great demand as a musician for hire by cutting edge artists - like David Bowie, David Byrne and Laurie Anderson - and a producer of two tracks on the Jars of Clay's debut album, including their crossover breakthrough hit Flood. I saw JOC at the Disneyland House of Blues in October 2007 and it was a completely satisfying concert experience.
Flood by the Jars of Clay (1995)
Shirley Manson of Garbage is one of my all-time favorite chick singers, the others being Roni Spector and Chrissie Hynde. I don't think Shirley would mind that description or being in such legendary company.
Only Happy When It Rains by Garbage (1995)
Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head was written by the inestimable Burt Bacharach and originally recorded by B.J. Thomas for the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid soundtrack. For his TV special One Amazing Night, Bacharach asked the Ben Folds Five to perform the 1960s classic. Ben Folds never fails to entertain and I especially enjoyed Bacharach's smiles of unabashed delight when the trio tweaked the original arrangement.
Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head by Ben Folds Five (1998)
Day of Fire recorded an amazing debut, Fire, with well-crafted, hook-laden songs. Their successive albums are not as accessible nor, in my opinion, appealing. I don't understand why artists such as DOF and JOC who are so gifted and soar in Christian contemporary music would prefer to sound ordinary and uninspired like the world.
Rain Song by Day of Fire (2004)
Monday, January 18, 2010
It Never Rains in Southern California? Hah!
Here in sunny southern California, we have been in the throes of a dry El Niño until yesterday, when the first of four "epic" storms anticipated to last all week moved across our region. Thus far the sandbags are holding and the fire-damaged areas are free of mudslides.
We live in Costa Mesa, which is Spanish for "coastal table." It is a wonderful town, literally a flatland by the sea with a history of epic flooding. Our neighborhood was so waterlogged today that the Orange County Register dispatched a photographer who captured the daring boy below canoeing on an adjacent block.
These pictures show the damage on our street, but our home is fine.
We live in Costa Mesa, which is Spanish for "coastal table." It is a wonderful town, literally a flatland by the sea with a history of epic flooding. Our neighborhood was so waterlogged today that the Orange County Register dispatched a photographer who captured the daring boy below canoeing on an adjacent block.
These pictures show the damage on our street, but our home is fine.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
24 Debuts Tonight: The Beginning of the End?
The season 8 premiere of 24 debuts tonight on Fox at 9:00pm Pacific Time (check your local listings). Entertainment Weekly has a brief preview of the cast and characters, including an update about future seasons.
Asked about season 9, director Brad Turner told EW, “We can tell you one thing for sure: we’re not picked up yet. What I’ve been saying to everybody is that if the audience shows up, that’s a very good possibility. Because people – Kiefer and Howard [Gordon] – want to do it again. Which is good for our fans. But our fans have to realize that waiting for the DVD is not gonna help us. We gotta mobilize and watch the show.”
24 Season 8 Trailer
Asked about season 9, director Brad Turner told EW, “We can tell you one thing for sure: we’re not picked up yet. What I’ve been saying to everybody is that if the audience shows up, that’s a very good possibility. Because people – Kiefer and Howard [Gordon] – want to do it again. Which is good for our fans. But our fans have to realize that waiting for the DVD is not gonna help us. We gotta mobilize and watch the show.”
24 Season 8 Trailer
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
