Is there anyone who hasn't seen and heard the Scottish lady, Susan Boyle, who knocked the socks off the judges and audience of "Britain's Got Talent," England's equivalent of American Idol? Just to see the look of shock on Simon Cowell's face and to watch the smug spectators' snide expressions turn to "gobsmacked" looks of awe and admiration was priceless. I rarely buy CD's but I'm definitely purchasing hers when it comes out.
I am such a fan of almost everything Celtic these days. My green roots are showing -- they might be an improvement over the grey ones -- and I'm consumed with reading all kinds of novels set in Ireland and Scotland. Keri and I are planning to take a trip to Ireland and hopefully visit Scotland as well next year -- if she doesn't do something major to change that, like get married!
My parents come from County Carlow, a very small area but where many of our Irish priests in this country went to seminary. We hope to trace my family tree. Apparently, the Irish are very eager to sell you your "history" so it is necessary to bring birth or death certificates along to make sure you get your real family's information. We'll tour some of the big spots like a castle and the Blarney Stone but we are both eager to get to know some of the local folk, which my daughter assures me can be best accomplished by frequent visits to the pubs. Should be an interesting trip -- if we can remember any of the sights.
So, for the time being, may the road rise to meet you ... And when you need to see that the impossible sometimes really does come true, go to youtube to listen to Susan Boyle.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Spring is springing into life, thank goodness. I can go back to being lazy, reading out on the porch (if I can beat the cat to my chair) instead of being lazy, reading inside. A few of my favorite writing ladies have come out with new books very recently and it has been wonderful to meet all their new characters.
I just read Maeve Binchy's Heart and Soul and loved it. Maeve has retired any number of times over the last several years but then yells, "Surprise"! and pops out another wonderful novel. This one was better than her last couple in my opinion. Then there's my favorite lass, Cathy Kelly, whose Lessons in Heartbreak finally made it to this country. A lot of it took place in New York but the publishers still took their sweet time releasing it here. Maybe they were waiting until close to St. Patrick's Day -- who knows! Another couple of ladies to check out if you're looking for a bit of blarney are Patricia Scanlan, Cecelia Ahern (do not judge her by the movie of her book, P.S. I Love You), and Sharon Owens from Belfast. Sharon can be hilarious in her stories. She has a few out that are in the library (others can be gotten through inter-library loan): The Tea House on Mulberry Street, The Ballroom on Magnolia Street, and The Tavern on Maple Street.
The new breed of Irish authors is so much more fun than the depressing old guys -- no offense to James Joyce fans, etc., but they didn't exactly make you chuckle. Patrick Taylor is probably as old as I am but he's a hoot. He wrote the Irish doctor books and it makes you wish you could kick your HMO to the curb and run to the office he runs with Barry, the new,young doctor.
So, if you get tired of drinking green beer or stomping on snakes, grab one of the new Celtic generation's editions and maybe an Irish coffee to go with it. Enjoy.
I just read Maeve Binchy's Heart and Soul and loved it. Maeve has retired any number of times over the last several years but then yells, "Surprise"! and pops out another wonderful novel. This one was better than her last couple in my opinion. Then there's my favorite lass, Cathy Kelly, whose Lessons in Heartbreak finally made it to this country. A lot of it took place in New York but the publishers still took their sweet time releasing it here. Maybe they were waiting until close to St. Patrick's Day -- who knows! Another couple of ladies to check out if you're looking for a bit of blarney are Patricia Scanlan, Cecelia Ahern (do not judge her by the movie of her book, P.S. I Love You), and Sharon Owens from Belfast. Sharon can be hilarious in her stories. She has a few out that are in the library (others can be gotten through inter-library loan): The Tea House on Mulberry Street, The Ballroom on Magnolia Street, and The Tavern on Maple Street.
The new breed of Irish authors is so much more fun than the depressing old guys -- no offense to James Joyce fans, etc., but they didn't exactly make you chuckle. Patrick Taylor is probably as old as I am but he's a hoot. He wrote the Irish doctor books and it makes you wish you could kick your HMO to the curb and run to the office he runs with Barry, the new,young doctor.
So, if you get tired of drinking green beer or stomping on snakes, grab one of the new Celtic generation's editions and maybe an Irish coffee to go with it. Enjoy.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
TALK DEFINITELY ISN'T CHEAP
It's been a while -- lots going on at work and I was the lucky recipient of Keri's nasty cold.
I know I tend to have my moments of being high-strung, emotional -- okay, crazy, but I decided this morning, during my "chat" with the beloved ATT that I would prefer to be the crazy lady than a robot. I would have sworn I was talking to the automated message that intones coldly, "all representatives are currently busy with other customers." This fella was probably listening to his ipod and playing a video game as he told me about my "great rate" which was supposed to be a greater rate than what I had been paying but amounted to $15.51 MORE than previous bills. He kept saying, "give me just a moment" -- I stopped counting after the seventh utterance. He could not have cared less if I dropped my account -- actually, he was probably hoping for it. Anyway, I'm staying with them for a while since I'm supposedly restored to my old rate, which is not the outstanding bargain he wanted me to believe but once I'm on the Social Security dole, ATT will supposedly take $13 off every month which is "a really great rate" according to Mr. Robot.
Enough of my whining. I heard an oldie but goodie on the radio the other night and the lyrics have been with me since then: "If you believe in forever, life is just a one night stand. If there's a rock & roll heaven, you know they've got a hell of a band"!
Amen.
I know I tend to have my moments of being high-strung, emotional -- okay, crazy, but I decided this morning, during my "chat" with the beloved ATT that I would prefer to be the crazy lady than a robot. I would have sworn I was talking to the automated message that intones coldly, "all representatives are currently busy with other customers." This fella was probably listening to his ipod and playing a video game as he told me about my "great rate" which was supposed to be a greater rate than what I had been paying but amounted to $15.51 MORE than previous bills. He kept saying, "give me just a moment" -- I stopped counting after the seventh utterance. He could not have cared less if I dropped my account -- actually, he was probably hoping for it. Anyway, I'm staying with them for a while since I'm supposedly restored to my old rate, which is not the outstanding bargain he wanted me to believe but once I'm on the Social Security dole, ATT will supposedly take $13 off every month which is "a really great rate" according to Mr. Robot.
Enough of my whining. I heard an oldie but goodie on the radio the other night and the lyrics have been with me since then: "If you believe in forever, life is just a one night stand. If there's a rock & roll heaven, you know they've got a hell of a band"!
Amen.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Anti-Social Security
I called the Social Security offices today to find out how much money I'll rake in monthly once I get old -- in two months. I spoke to a very nice young lady in Cleveland, Ohio who assured me that I was doing the right thing by applying for my own benefits to start once I turn 62 and that they could take care of it by phone interview.
Okay, the interviewer who initially sounded as if she had just been woken up from a nap (2 pm) and would rather be having a root canal also told me I was doing the right thing by applying for my own benefits now. I was almost giddy -- I didn't have to go sit in a horrible office and wait forever to talk to someone who would possibly be even less enthused about talking to me and they would see to it that I started getting money right after my birthday. What a wonderful world! I really need to have the rose tint removed from my glasses!
The lovely lady asked how much I earn and when I told her the embarrassingly low amount (hey, it's government work) she said, "I will pay you nothing. Nothing." Apparently, since I earn more than $14,000-something a year, I'm not deserving of receiving the money they have been removing from my paychecks since 1967. I was then told I could receive one check (quite small) in December because since my birthday is in the latter part of the year, it has to be postponed until Dec. Excuse me - since when is the fourth month considered the second half of the year?!
The woman actually turned out to be very sweet and we chatted a bit. The long and short of this interview was that anyone who continues to work full-time past 62 or who earns more than the bare poverty level is considered by government standards to be a moron or a glutton for punishment. I know I should be glad that I'll receive some benefits, but who knows if they'll still be there in four years!
The call made me realize that the organization is due for a name change: they're really not very sociable and our benefits are by no means secure.
Okay, the interviewer who initially sounded as if she had just been woken up from a nap (2 pm) and would rather be having a root canal also told me I was doing the right thing by applying for my own benefits now. I was almost giddy -- I didn't have to go sit in a horrible office and wait forever to talk to someone who would possibly be even less enthused about talking to me and they would see to it that I started getting money right after my birthday. What a wonderful world! I really need to have the rose tint removed from my glasses!
The lovely lady asked how much I earn and when I told her the embarrassingly low amount (hey, it's government work) she said, "I will pay you nothing. Nothing." Apparently, since I earn more than $14,000-something a year, I'm not deserving of receiving the money they have been removing from my paychecks since 1967. I was then told I could receive one check (quite small) in December because since my birthday is in the latter part of the year, it has to be postponed until Dec. Excuse me - since when is the fourth month considered the second half of the year?!
The woman actually turned out to be very sweet and we chatted a bit. The long and short of this interview was that anyone who continues to work full-time past 62 or who earns more than the bare poverty level is considered by government standards to be a moron or a glutton for punishment. I know I should be glad that I'll receive some benefits, but who knows if they'll still be there in four years!
The call made me realize that the organization is due for a name change: they're really not very sociable and our benefits are by no means secure.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Another Pleasant Valley Sunday
As my dad used to say when he'd answer my weekly phone calls, "Happy Sunday." The day started well since I actually got enough sleep and had time to read some of my book of the moment, Italian Lessons, by Peter Pezzelli.
Then, my favorite priest and one of the funniest of all time, Fr. Small -- a young fella from Emory and St. Pius H.S.-- said Mass. When we got to the Lord's Prayer, the old gent next to me whipered a few things, none of which I understood and he was speaking English. I think he was asking me if it was all right to hold my hand but who knows? Then, he said "okay" after every statement of the prayer. Our Father -- okay! Who art in heaven -- okay! Hallowed be Thy name -- okay! You get the picture. At the sign of peace, after he hugged his sweet wife on the other side of him, he leaned over to me, kissed my cheek and said, "thank you, honey." His wife shook my hand and also said thank you. Okay, it doesn't take anything at all to make me tear up at church and that did me in.
Keri's home now, doing laundry, eating, discussing her take on the world and how it should be run, talking on the phone and just being plain old Keri which I thoroughly enjoy.
Okay, happy Sunday!
Then, my favorite priest and one of the funniest of all time, Fr. Small -- a young fella from Emory and St. Pius H.S.-- said Mass. When we got to the Lord's Prayer, the old gent next to me whipered a few things, none of which I understood and he was speaking English. I think he was asking me if it was all right to hold my hand but who knows? Then, he said "okay" after every statement of the prayer. Our Father -- okay! Who art in heaven -- okay! Hallowed be Thy name -- okay! You get the picture. At the sign of peace, after he hugged his sweet wife on the other side of him, he leaned over to me, kissed my cheek and said, "thank you, honey." His wife shook my hand and also said thank you. Okay, it doesn't take anything at all to make me tear up at church and that did me in.
Keri's home now, doing laundry, eating, discussing her take on the world and how it should be run, talking on the phone and just being plain old Keri which I thoroughly enjoy.
Okay, happy Sunday!
Monday, December 29, 2008
A Wonderful Christmas
Christmas was wonderful. Only the Grinch or Scrooge wouldn't have laughed and felt happiness bubbling up inside just watching Kylie and Logan.
She smiled the entire time -- not just because of the gifts that flowed around her like lava but, it seemed to me, because she was so glad she and her brother were being honored on this special holiday. That child has perfect comedic timing. She loves having her picture taken and posed with a big grin, and then just as the button was being pushed, she held Richie Bear completely in front of her.
Aside from Eric and Keri with their yearly demand for lasagne, I am not usually sought out for my cooking skills. Okay, mac and cheese is not a culinary achievement but I feel like Julia Child as Kylie scoops the morsels up with her fingers and hands me the spoon to allow me to feed her a bit. How does she read me so well?
Her little brother also has the gift to make you feel special. He just smiles beatifically as you squeeze him. I have never seen Alexa look so peaceful as when she fed him a bottle -- she was positively transformed.
They seem to be a perfect team to me. Kylie will run the show and Logan will play his part, admiring her direction all the way, but will no doubt sit back after a little while just to enjoy the scenery. He'll say, "chill, Kylie, just chill for a while," with a big smile and then we'll know his grandad Stan passed down a gene or two.
I got up this morning and when I went to put away some Christmas bags I had to pull out years and years worth of stuff from an overcrowded closet. I came upon a book with Keri's first published prose, written when she was in kindergarten. Luckily, there was a translation because it was obvious she hadn't learned phonex (and never did, thanks to the idiotic whole language phase in the school system in the '90's). Her story was about a friendly giant ("the Jit") who shared his food with her, "hot dogs as big and long as a car" and who "can climb up mountains in one step."
I can see that kind of imagination in Kylie and with all the reading she and her mom do, I know she will have fantabulous stories to share very soon. Hers might also need some translating but I can't wait to hear them.
This is the time for resolutions. I've got one and only one: Have fun! I know two little people who will help me to stick with it. Happy New Year.
She smiled the entire time -- not just because of the gifts that flowed around her like lava but, it seemed to me, because she was so glad she and her brother were being honored on this special holiday. That child has perfect comedic timing. She loves having her picture taken and posed with a big grin, and then just as the button was being pushed, she held Richie Bear completely in front of her.
Aside from Eric and Keri with their yearly demand for lasagne, I am not usually sought out for my cooking skills. Okay, mac and cheese is not a culinary achievement but I feel like Julia Child as Kylie scoops the morsels up with her fingers and hands me the spoon to allow me to feed her a bit. How does she read me so well?
Her little brother also has the gift to make you feel special. He just smiles beatifically as you squeeze him. I have never seen Alexa look so peaceful as when she fed him a bottle -- she was positively transformed.
They seem to be a perfect team to me. Kylie will run the show and Logan will play his part, admiring her direction all the way, but will no doubt sit back after a little while just to enjoy the scenery. He'll say, "chill, Kylie, just chill for a while," with a big smile and then we'll know his grandad Stan passed down a gene or two.
I got up this morning and when I went to put away some Christmas bags I had to pull out years and years worth of stuff from an overcrowded closet. I came upon a book with Keri's first published prose, written when she was in kindergarten. Luckily, there was a translation because it was obvious she hadn't learned phonex (and never did, thanks to the idiotic whole language phase in the school system in the '90's). Her story was about a friendly giant ("the Jit") who shared his food with her, "hot dogs as big and long as a car" and who "can climb up mountains in one step."
I can see that kind of imagination in Kylie and with all the reading she and her mom do, I know she will have fantabulous stories to share very soon. Hers might also need some translating but I can't wait to hear them.
This is the time for resolutions. I've got one and only one: Have fun! I know two little people who will help me to stick with it. Happy New Year.
Friday, December 5, 2008
We Need a Little Christmas
You know how everyone always says, "Christmas is for kids"? And of course, all the marketing spiels say that there is a kid in all of us -- but who believes advertisers? So, shocked am I that behind all these bags and wrinkles there lives a clammoring six-year-old. I can't wait to get out to Target later and see all the toys and books that I know Kylie and Logan absolutely have to have even though there isn't an empty inch of space in their playroom.
I got positively giddy yesterday when I saw that a small set of Christmas lights that never fit on anything were just the right size for the doll house my brother-in-law built for Keri about 20 years ago. That is the only thing in my house decorated right now but it's a start.
This Thanksgiving was so much fun -- the best in four years for me -- just being with family. Okay, sharing books with Kylie is one of the highlights in my life. I loved it when she walked backwards and wiggled her little butt into my lap, ready for the books I brought. One was about the Nativity and had tiny stuffed animals -- she knew sheep instantly and loudly. The petting zoo trips haven't been wasted on her.
I have been hearing from well-meaning people and bereavement experts over the last few years that the holidays are really rough when you're grieving. I wonder if they were born with that wisdom or had to learn it!!! Then there are those who are a quart low on empathy and proclaim, "Get on with life." Lately, I'm finding (surprisingly so) that they're both right. This Christmas season, or Advent to be specific, is so much more hopeful and peaceful. It really is possible to feel real joy while missing someone.
I work with a woman who refuses to read any book that is "bittersweet." I love those novels -- maybe because I feel comfortable with them. Isn't real life bittersweet? You've got your laughs and your tears, now and then at the exact same time, but perhaps I'm unique there. When I was pregnant with Keri, I remember telling the doctor during a visit that I was very emotional and would laugh and cry at the same time. He was nice about it but told me later that he had been very concerned for me since he found that behavior quite strange. Obviously, the dear man didn't know me very well.
I better get busy -- the North Pole calls and says I am way behind, but this year there is no stress, well, a teeny bit but that's okay. Let's go jingle some bells!
I got positively giddy yesterday when I saw that a small set of Christmas lights that never fit on anything were just the right size for the doll house my brother-in-law built for Keri about 20 years ago. That is the only thing in my house decorated right now but it's a start.
This Thanksgiving was so much fun -- the best in four years for me -- just being with family. Okay, sharing books with Kylie is one of the highlights in my life. I loved it when she walked backwards and wiggled her little butt into my lap, ready for the books I brought. One was about the Nativity and had tiny stuffed animals -- she knew sheep instantly and loudly. The petting zoo trips haven't been wasted on her.
I have been hearing from well-meaning people and bereavement experts over the last few years that the holidays are really rough when you're grieving. I wonder if they were born with that wisdom or had to learn it!!! Then there are those who are a quart low on empathy and proclaim, "Get on with life." Lately, I'm finding (surprisingly so) that they're both right. This Christmas season, or Advent to be specific, is so much more hopeful and peaceful. It really is possible to feel real joy while missing someone.
I work with a woman who refuses to read any book that is "bittersweet." I love those novels -- maybe because I feel comfortable with them. Isn't real life bittersweet? You've got your laughs and your tears, now and then at the exact same time, but perhaps I'm unique there. When I was pregnant with Keri, I remember telling the doctor during a visit that I was very emotional and would laugh and cry at the same time. He was nice about it but told me later that he had been very concerned for me since he found that behavior quite strange. Obviously, the dear man didn't know me very well.
I better get busy -- the North Pole calls and says I am way behind, but this year there is no stress, well, a teeny bit but that's okay. Let's go jingle some bells!
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