Reasons to be Cheerful

FLASH FAIL

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 19:44:00 +0000

So Paul bought this kitty scratch pad thingy for Flash so she won't knead her claws on the new rugs we bought for the living room:

Obviously, Flash does not get the concept.

Wha'?

Ack Attack

Does this make my butt look big?

THANKS JOHN

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 19:18:00 +0000

One steamy July day, my Mom handed me money to buy a ticket to my first rock concert. The date on the ticket said September 12, 1964; the venue: The Boston Garden. After an agonizingly long summer, September finally arrived. My best friend and I were each 13 years old. Our seats were in the first row balcony, stage left. An announcer came on the stage and the screaming started. Electricity filled the air as he shouted, “And now, here they are . . . The Beatles!” After that, no one could hear another word over the screaming. I saw The Beatles again on their final tour in front of a live audience in 1966.

I was hooked the minute I heard the first chord of I Wanna Hold Your Hand. The Beatles’ provided the soundtrack for my passage through puberty to adulthood. As I evolved over the years, I have embraced new kinds of music, but The Beatles will always be a part of who I am.

On this poignant anniversary, I would like to thank The Beatles for bringing me so much joy as a teenager. And thank you, John, for trying to make this world a more peaceful place.

We all shine on.

HEY PAUL

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 02:08:00 +0000

On the 4th of July, 1985, friends and I went to the Esplanade to watch the fireworks and listen to the Boston Pops. After the display we split up and I went to The Rat for a late-night pop before going home.

That’s when I met Paul Koster.

Surprisingly, Paul and I were the only two people in The Rat. He was sitting by himself at the end of the bar. I ordered a beer, dropped money into the jukebox, selected The Ramones and The Cure, then pulled up a stool next to him. We talked about music (he liked punk, but did not dress the part) and art; he told me he was a self-employed contractor and was working with friends on an apartment building close to The Rat. A more unlikely couple would be hard to find, but we hit it off immediately. When the bar closed at 2 o’clock we took a cab to his place in Brighton. After a few weeks I moved in with him.

*****

Paul and I have a lot in common – we like the same music, we both love to cook, each of us has a whacky sense of humor, and we both fit the quintessential definition of a Type B personality. But most importantly, there are enough differences between us to keep things interesting. One area where Paul and I differ is that I like to leave early for appointments, but Paul likes to wait till the last minute.

For most of the major events in our lives, Paul has been late. It started with our wedding day in 1989. Paul and I married in Rockport, MA, at the Ralph Waldo Emerson Inn. It takes about an our to get there from our home in Everett. I arrived there early to do my hair, makeup, etc. Paul left home a bit later than he should have. At the Inn, my mother began pacing and looking nervously at her watch while I tried to reassure her that Paul would come. Little did we know that Murphy’s Law had caught up with him – he got a flat on Route 128. So there was my future husband, dressed in a tuxedo, changing a flat on one of the busiest highways north of Boston on our wedding day. When Paul finally pulled into the driveway my mother, father, and our wedding guests heaved a collective sigh of relief, but I just laughed. I knew he would get there . . . eventually.

Paula and Paul. June 18, 1989

Two years later it happened again.

I had to spend the night before Marcy was born in the hospital because I hadn’t dilated. We decided that there was no use in Paul staying up all night watching me sleep, so he went home. Besides, Nancy, a friend of ours, was an OB nurse and she happened to be on duty that night. In retrospect, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I sent Paul home while I was in labor, but somehow it made sense at the time.

The next day my doctor induced me and things went fast from then on. Nancy dialed our home phone number so I could tell Paul to get to the hospital STAT, but there was no answer. I left a frantic message on our answering machine and hoped that he was on his way. Less than an hour later Marcy was delivered.

Paul showed up ten minutes later. His hair was disheveled and he looked exhausted. When he came into the delivery room I saw Nancy waving her finger at him while whispering “Where the hell have you been?” He sheepishly made his way to my bed and told me that he had spent the past half hour looking for a parking meter because he didn’t want to spend the money to park at the Beth Israel Hospital garage. In the haze of pain and exhaustion I wanted to be mad, but when Paul awkwardly picked up Marcy and cradled her in his arms, that feeling vanished.

Two days later, Paul was on time when he picked up Marcy and me to take us home from the hospital. When we went into Marcy’s room there were a dozen roses sitting in her bassinet, and I thought to myself, how lucky we are to have him.

Late as usual.
Marcy poses and Paul photobombs.

THE RAT

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 20:39:00 +0000

Boston was a Mecca for punk music in the summer of 1985. British punk bands played frequent gigs in town, while local bands played the clubs every night. My favorite hangout was The Rathskeller, a.k.a. The Rat, a punk club in Kenmore Square. The Rat lived up to its name; the street level was a dark, moody pub which housed a surprisingly excellent restaurant called the Hoodoo Barbecue. It was also home to the best jukebox in Boston. Downstairs was a tiny club where punk bands from all over the world played. The Rat reeked of stale beer; a layer of grime covered the bar, tables and floor, and left you feeling sticky all over.

I was a 33-year-old, second-year student at The Art Institute of Boston (AIB) that year where I majored in photography. My uniform of choice in those days was a black miniskirt or black leggings, holey black fishnets, Ramones t-shirts, and black leather boots. My spiked brown hair with bleached blonde bangs was always teased, carefully coiffed, and held in place by a giant glob of hair gel and half a can of Aquanet. My makeup consisted of heavy applications of black kohl eyeliner, dark brown and charcoal eye shadow, black mascara, and blood red or black lipstick.

The Rat wasn't just open evenings; the club was only a block away from AIB on Beacon Street, so it quickly became an all-too-convenient watering hole during the daytime. Between classes a few of us would zip over to the bar for a draft (or two), then go back to class or the photo lab. After classes or long sessions in the lab we'd often go back there and drink the night away as we talked about art and music. The Rat was a cauldron -- our own mini version of a cafe on Montmarte -- where creativity simmered as we fed off each others' works and ideas.

The Rat was heaven on earth.

The Neighborhoods live at The Rat, 1979.
Video by Jan Crocker

RECIPES - Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 19:59:00 +0000

In an earlier post about our garden, I said that I would put recipes in an upcoming post. Well, I've kept my promise . . .

Pesto
Simple to make (no cooking, except for the pasta), and loaded with the great taste of basil.

1-1/2 c. basil
2 cloves garlic (more, if you're a garlic fiend like me)
1/4 c. pine nuts (or walnuts)
3/4 c. Romano cheese
3/4 c. olive oil

In food processor, blend together basil, garlic and pine nuts. Add cheese till mixture is really thick. With processor running, add olive oil in a slow, steady stream until desired thickness is reached. Serve over pasta.

*****

Lemon Raspberry Tart
This recipe is amazing with just-picked raspberries, but frozen can be used as well.

Crust:

1-1/2 c. confectioner's sugar
9 tbl. butter (cold)
1-3/4 c. sifted flour
1 egg
pinch salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In food processor, mix sugar, butter, salt & flour till it looks granular. Add egg and process to form ball. Chill 30 min. Roll out dough, place in 10" tart pan, bake with beans as weight for 15 min. (Note: I put a sheet of parchment paper on top of the dough before placing the beans there. If you don't do this you'll have a heck of a time trying to pick beans out of the puffed pastry!)

Filling:

1-1/2 lemons (grate peel and save)
8-9 tbl. sugar
3/4 c. cream
2 whole eggs + one yolk
Rasperberries to cover tart

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grate lemon zest, then remove skin from lemons. Put lemons in processor with sugar, eggs and cream and process till smooth. Put zest in bowl. Strain mixture and add to zest. Place berries in pan with crust. Cover with 3/4 of the cream mixture. Bake 1/2 hr. Add rest of cream mixture and bake another 1/2 hr. Sprinkle with confectioner's sugar before serving.

*****

Swiss Chard Ravioli
The process is a bit involved, but I save steps by using wonton wrappers instead of making my own pasta. Well worth the effort!

1/4 cup water
1 pound Swiss chard, center spine and stems trimmed
1 cup ricotta cheese
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 large egg
1 garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh rosemary
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

wonton wrappers
1 lg. egg white, beaten to blend

3/4 c. (1-1/2 sticks) butter
1/4 c. chopped sage

Romano cheese

Bring 1/4 cup water to boil in large pot. Add chard leaves. Cover; cook until tender but still bright green, stirring occasionally, about 3 minutes. Drain. Cool slightly. Squeeze dry. Chop chard finely. Transfer to large bowl. Mix in ricotta, 1/3 cup Parmesan cheese, egg, garlic, thyme, salt, rosemary and pepper.

Line baking sheet with foil or plastic wrap; sprinkle with flour. Place 1 gyoza wrapper on work surface. Brush surface of wrapper with some egg white. Spoon generous 1 teaspoon chard mixture into center of wrapper. Top with another wrapper. Press edges together to seal. Transfer to baking sheet. Repeat with remaining wrappers, egg white and chard mixture to make 32 ravioli total. (Can be made 8 hours ahead. Cover and chill.)

Melt butter in heavy small skillet over medium heat. Add sage; stir 1 minute. Season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat.

Working in batches, cook ravioli in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender, stirring occasionally, about 4 minutes per batch. Transfer ravioli to

large shallow bowl.

Pour sage butter over ravioli and toss. Serve with additional Romano cheese.

*****

Baked Stuffed Zucchini

These puff up as they bake. They are SOOOO good!

1 1/2 pounds zucchini, halved
1 1/2 cups dry bread crumbs
2 ounces shredded Romano cheese
1/4 cup minced onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons butter, diced

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).

Scoop the flesh out of the zucchini and place in bowl. Set shells aside. Combine zucchini flesh with bread crumbs, Romano cheese, onion, parsley, salt, most of the Parmesan cheese and egg. Fill zucchini shells with mixture. Dot tops with butter and sprinkle with remaining Romano cheese.

Bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes.

*****

Yellow Tomato Soup

This soup is beautiful, with flavor to match.

1 large onion, chopped (about 2 1/2 cup
6 bacon slices (about 5 ounces), chopped
5 cups chopped yellow tomatoes (about 2 pounds)
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup dry Sherry
1/2 cup dry white wine
4 cups chicken stock or canned low-salt chicken broth
2 teaspoons minced canned chipotle chilies*
1 tablespoon fresh chopped oregano leaves
1/4 cup 2% evaporated milk

Sauté onion and bacon in heavy large pot over medium heat until onion is tender and beginning to brown, about 15 minutes.

Add tomatoes and garlic and simmer until tomatoes are tender and juicy, stirring occasionally, about 20 minutes. Add Sherry and wine, and let simmer for five minutes.

Add stock and simmer until mixture is reduced to 6 1/2 cups, at least 15 minutes. Stir in chipotle chilies and oregano. Working in batches, puree soup in blender. (Skip this step if you have an immersion blender, in which case you can blend it right in the pot.) Return to pot. Add evaporated milk and stir until heated throughout. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

*****

I will post more recipes soon, including one for an aromatic Moroccan Lamb Stew. Enjoy!

TOP 5 SCARY MOVIES OF ALL TIME

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 22:11:00 +0000

WARNING: This post contains spoilers!

One of my favorite holidays is upon us -- Halloween.

This weekend I read many lists of scary movies on websites and blogs (like this one: boston.com's top 50 scary movies), and now that I have a blog, I can add my own.

Before I get to my list, first a word about films that do not scare me.

Slasher films just don't cut it for me (pun intended); I mean, how many times do we have to watch directors try to outgross each other to see who can make the goriest film? Besides, real news stories about atrocities humans inflict on one another are far more scary than any Saw film. (OK -- I'll admit that little swirly-cheeked dude is creepy -- check out "Honorable Mention" below.)

Giant spiders, sharks and other abnormally mutated animals don't frighten me. I'm one of those crazy people who think spiders are cute. And aliens don't scare me either. I would welcome being beamed up by visitors from another planet because the one we live on has become totally unhinged, and I'm optimistic enough to believe that any alien landing on Earth would come in peace.

Vampire films aren't on my list either. I love a good vamp film as much as anyone, but the vampire class I'm taking has changed how I view these unfortunate creatures. I pity vampires because they are metaphors for many anxieties in society like alienation and humans' fear of death. Besides, from what I've read, hot vampire sex is the bomb -- just ask Sookie Stackhouse.

* * * * *

I won't keep you in suspense any longer -- here is my Top 5 scariest movies countdown:

NUMBER 5:
THE SHINING

When it comes to horror, what could be more frightening than watching your generic, happy-go-lucky Dad slip slowly into the dark side? Jack Nicholson's over-the-top portrayal of Jack Torrance is bloodcurdling; he has so mastered his craft that his facial expressions alone instill more terror than any special effects technician could ever dream up.

In the hands of Stanley Kubrick's skillful direction, a little boy riding his Big Wheels takes on the menacing appearance of an innocent child entering the abyss of hell.

And what is up with those twins? Sure, they look innocent enough, but would you want to run into them in some dark, empty hotel lobby? What makes this movie so chilling is that if a normal family like the Torrence's could be taken over by some unknown evil entity, then it could happen to any of us.

* * * * *

NUMBER 4:
ROSEMARY'S BABY

Poor Rosemary Woodhouse. All she wanted was a normal life with her actor husband and a baby. What she got was an asshole for a spouse, a coven of witches, and the spawn of Satan.

Say what you will about Roman Polanski; he is one hell of a director. The tension he creates in this film builds agonizingly as we learn that Rosemary's husband, Guy, has sold his soul to the devil with the help of their neighbors in their deliciously gothic Manhattan apartment.

What woman could not identify with poor Rosemary as she scrambles around with her swollen belly, desparately trying to save her unborn child from the clutches of the Castevet's and their fellow witches. For me, one of the most terrifying scenes in the film is when Rosemary is in the phone booth and we think finally -- she will be saved. But then we see a man has followed her and is standing ominously outside the booth. Now we know that Rosemary is doomed.

The terror in this film doesn't come from special effects; these characters seem real; it's what we don't see that scares us. And in the end, the bond of motherhood prevails. Yes, we mothers love our children unconditionally, even if they do have the eyes of a goat.

* * * * *

NUMBER 3:
PSYCHO (The original 1960 version, not the 1998 abomination.)

OK, so technically Psycho is a slasher film. But it was the first. And the best.

Alfred Hitchcock was a genius. In the infamous shower scene, he was able to totally freak out his audience without buckets of blood or grisly, gaping wounds. Sure, there was some blood, but that's not what is so scary about this scene. The true horror is watching Janet Leigh's life slowly ebb out of her as she helplessly tears down the shower curtain to escape her fate, with perverse violins playing an eerie wee-wee-wee-wee in the background:

The end of this scene, where we see an extreme close-up of Leigh's blood swirling down the drain, which turns into a close-up of Leigh's eye, is brilliant.

Anthony Perkins' as Norman Bates is one of the scariest characters in the history of film. Perkins' understated portrayal of the murderer is chilling, and in the final scene, his twisted smile brings the creep level to new heights as the voiceover says, "Why, she [Norman's mother -- his alter-ego], wouldn't even harm a fly."

Thanks, Hitch. Because of you I still can't take a shower without locking every door in the house.

* * * * *

NUMBER 2:

THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT

Our 19-year-old daughter Marcy called me last Friday to tell me she was going on her first camping trip with some college friends. She goes to George Mason University in Virginia which is a very rural setting a few miles outside of Washington, D.C.

Me: So, you're first camping trip. You must be excited!

Marcy: Yeah, but I think I made a mistake Mom. I watched The Blair Witch Project last night and I don't think that was a good idea.

Me: Don't worry Sweetie -- you'll be fine. It's only a movie.

I resisted the urge to call her on Saturday, but on Sunday evening I caved in.

Me: So how was it?

Marcy: Oh-my-God, Mom! Our campground was in Maryland and you wouldn't belive it -- when Leah, our driver, told us we were almost there, I looked out the window. Then, I saw the sign:

Yeah, THAT Burkittsville -- home of the Blair Witch.

This film is so well made that I completely fell for the hype that surrounded its debut. I mean look at it -- it's a documentary for crying out loud -- of course it's real.

The premise of this film is simple: three average college students working on a documentary. They go camping in the woods -- you know, those places that city people like Marcy and I fear more than the streets of Roxbury. They become hopelessly lost. Things go bump in the night. They wake up to witchy twigs hanging from branches. In the end, the only things that survive are the videos they made, and the footage is used to make this documentary.

Many factors contribute to the realism of this film. It was filmed in video and in real time. The directors rationed the actors' food and left them in the dark about what was going to happen next; as a result, the fear the actors exhibit is real, and therefore totally believable.

Marcy taught me a couple of things this weekend: (1) she's not a helpless little girl any more and, (2) she's got balls the size of watermelons.

* * * * *

NUMBER 1:

THE EXORCIST

There are so many hair-raising images in this film, it's hard to know where to begin. So let's just get right to the images of sweet little Regan MacNeil in full-tilt possessed mode.

William Friedkin eases the audience into this freak show by first showing some furniture moving around Regan's room on its own. But then stranger things begin to happen to Regan . . .

Holy shit! She's levitating!

Oh my God -- what's happened to her face?? And WTF is that green stuff coming out of her mouth??

Sweet Jesus, her head is spinning! Mommy! Mommy!

Yes, there were special effects in The Exorcist, but you have to remember -- the film was released in 1973 and trust me, there was nothing even close to this on film at the time. People ran screaming out of theaters when it was first shown. These images will be seared on my brain forever.

* * * * *

HONORABLE MENTION:

Any film with clowns or dummies in it scares the shit outta me. Period.

*****

All of my top 5 scary films have common denominators: they achieve their frightening goals through the mastery of their directors and the brilliance of the actors who portray unfortunate characters with whom we can all identify. In The Exorcist, where special effects were used to enhance the storyline of a young girl possessed by Satan, it is the storyline, incredible acting, and direction of the film that made people run out of theaters. Unlike horror films today where the special effects are the storyline, these five directors knew how to tell a scary story by slowly building tension and leading their audience to a psychological free fall of horror.

The Vamp in Literature & Film

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 16:06:00 +0000

The Boston Globe published this story yesterday about the Vamp class I'm taking this semester. Blood, fangs and college credit -- doesn't get much better than this.

http://www.boston.com/ae/books/articles/2010/10/23/sue_weaver_schopfs_class_on_the_literature_of_the_undead_gets_her_students_blood_pumping/

STEROIDS - PART 6 - THE END.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 15:56:00 +0000

Steroids Part 1

With a deep, clear breath, and a humble appreciation for the advances of modern medicine, I bid adios to the world of steroids.

STEROIDS - PART 5 and WOO-WOO KITTY

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 22:49:00 +0000

Steroids Part 1

There is much to be cheerful about today; I am in the homestretch with my Prednisone regimen and I feel FANTASTIC! After all the scary, frustrating days that led up to this, my lungs are clear and I am sleeping more soundly than our teenage daughter Marcy on a Saturday morning. And I got through it all without vomiting up coffee grounds.

I would not have gotten through the ordeal without Paul and our amazing cat, Flash.

I believe pets can tell when their humans are sick or depressed, and Flash was extra concerned about her Momma during this ordeal. She shadowed me constantly, to the point of being a nuisance. But how could you stay mad at a face like this?

Flash has been a member of our family since I got her from a cat rescue shelter 15 years ago. She is an extraordinary creature; among her many enduring features, she is polydactyl and has six toes on each front paw instead of the usual four. Polydactyl cats were brought from Europe to the U.S. by the Puritans and as a result, they are usually only found in New England.

Flash has what look like opposable thumbs on each paw, and she uses them in that capacity with great dexterity. She wraps them around her favorite toys as she bites and bats them with her hind legs. These claws also enhance her value as a top-notch mouser. When the weather gets cold, Flash will occasionally leave a present for me on the floor by my side of the bed -- a nicely rigor mortised mouse. What a great treat it is to wake up on a chilly morning and step on a tiny, furry corpse.

Flash works hard at looking beautiful -- it's a full-time job -- and she has mastered the fine art of posing for her humans' entertainment. Here Flash displays the Turkey Butt Kitty pose where she makes herself look like an oven-stuffer roaster:

Here is the frightening Don't Mess With Me/I Will Eat You Leer of Death; watch out Bela Lugosi:

Like all cats, when it comes to snoozing, Flash has many poses in her repertoire including the I Have a Dream pose:

and the I'm Too Cute For Words pose (which is extra effective when performed next to a sleeping Marcy):

One of our nicknames for Flash is Woo-Woo Kitty. She earned this title from midnight ravings that sometimes take hold of her. It goes something like this: Paul and I will be lying in bed when all of a sudden we'll hear Flash galloping from one end of the house to the other. She comes to a screeching halt at our bedroom door, then stares wild-eyed at some thing hovering over our heads that can only be seen by cats (we call them greeblings.) Next she pins her ears back on her head, arches up like a Halloween cat, and jumps simultaneously backward and sideways before spinning around and racing back to the other end of the house. Evidently, Woo-Wooing takes a lot out of you because she'll do this for a few more rounds before she gets so exhausted that she jumps onto our bed and goes into a deep slumber.

We are not privy to the reasoning behind this behavior -- it simply must be done.

Unfortunately, getting photos of Flash in full Woo-Woo mode has eluded me. We never know when it will happen next (I think it has something to do with a full moon), and I'm usually at the brink of sleep when she commences flight. But some day, when she least expects it, I'll be waiting in bed with my Leica. . .

Steroids Part 6

STEROIDS - PART 4

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 17 Oct 2010 16:09:00 +0000

Steroids Part 1

Wow . . . Yesterday, Day 4 on steroids, can only be described as bizarre.

My fears about not sleeping on the evening of Day 3 were unfounded; I slept soundly through the night and woke up early yesterday, fully rested. I took my 2^nd day of 5 pills, read my e-mail, then two chapters of this week’s vamp novel. But then I could read no more. A strange sensation came over me; after weeks of exhaustion and lethargy, I was overwhelmed by an unbelievable surge of energy. I couldn’t sit still. My mind was buzzing with things I wanted to do. I got up and began dusting the entire living room, then I cleaned out a closet. Trust me -- housecleaning is not my strong point, so this flurry of activity was most unusual. I worked so frantically that I was soon soaked in sweat. I took a shower, trimmed my hair, then tried to sit down and read some more, but it was hopeless. I just could not sit still.

Paul was beginning to worry. If you know anything about me at all, you know that I am the farthest thing from a Type A personality. I am as laid back as they come. I’m not a slacker – when things need to be done, I do them, but at my own pace. So it’s no wonder that Paul was worried – I was zooming around like a yellow jacket around a jar of honey – totally out of character for me.

I felt like I had to get out of the house, so I decided to make a trip to Target to buy some new dishes. Despite his concern, I convinced Paul that I was OK to drive myself. As I got into the car the heightened vision I’ve been experiencing was very noticeable -- the brilliant fall leaves on trees were nothing short of psychedelic. Undaunted, I put on my sunglasses and headed out to Route 16 on my way to Target. Amazingly, I had no problem driving. I got to the mall and walked into the store.

The minute I entered I took off my sunglasses and was blinded by complete sensory overload. The first thing I saw was a huge Halloween display and the colors literally made my head spin. Ghoulish sounds and spooky Halloween music were playing, and eyeballs were staring at me. Don't get me wrong -- I love Halloween, but when your vision and hearing are in altered states, the Halloween display at Target is not the place you want to be.

As quickly as I could, I navigated my shopping cart through a maze of giant walls of soup, teetering towers of storage bins, and jumbled shelves of household cleaners before I got to the rear of the store where the dishes are.

I was overwhelmed by the cacophony of happily chirpping Target shoppers. Claustrophobia set in. I began sweating heavily. I raced to the dish aisle and hastily picked out two sets of dishes -- one black, one red -- threw the heavy boxes into my cart, then made my way to the checkout as fast as I could. I was frantic to get home. Again, driving was not a problem, and I made the return trip without a hitch.

The whole experience was incredibly surreal. While I was in the store I felt like I wasn’t really there. I grew up in the 1960s, and like many young people then, I experimented with drugs. My excursion to Target brought me back to those psychedelic days – it felt close to tripping, but without all the fun.

When I got home I told Paul what had happened. He joked and told me he hid all the kitchen knives. (I love that guy!) He told me to sit down and try to relax, then he made me dinner to calm me down. He served it on our beautiful new red dinnerware. It worked to a certain extent; I was able to chill out a bit and watch a couple of Masterpiece Mysteries without feeling the need to clean the house from top to bottom. Unfortunately, I was still unable to read, but at least I wasn’t jumping out of my skin anymore.

Last night I was again able to get a full night’s sleep. Today I still feel a bit on the speedy side, but now I am behind in my reading and will have to spend the day hunkered down with my nose in my book.

The good news about all this is that my breathing is vastly improved – no more wheezing at all. I can still feel some residual gunk in my lungs when I wake up in the morning, but it doesn’t bother me during the day or while I’m sleeping.

This weird experience made me think about people who abuse steroids. I can understand how the feeling of euphoria might be exhilarating – up to a point – but I cannot fathom living with this feeling every day. I can clearly see how daily usage of this drug could put you over the edge. Today I’m down to four pills and I eagerly await the day when I’m done with this medication. It will be soon, and that is a reason to be cheerful.

Steroids Part 5

STEROIDS - PART 3

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 20:52:00 +0000

Steroids Part 1

I thought that by taking my pills early in the day yesterday I would be able to fall asleep easily last night, but I was wrong. I tossed and turned fitfully because of the steroids, and I was treated to the pleasure of experiencing a new symptom -- heartburn. It is SO frustrating to be exhausted and unable to sleep.

By 3:30 this morning I had had enough. I learned my lesson the night before and had taken possession of the TV remote before Paul fell asleep. I surfed over 300 cable channels for something completely mindless and found the perfect snooze-fest movie -- an asinine film starring the equally asinine Carrot Top. Man, this is one scary-looking dude! My plan worked though, and I fell asleep about three minutes into the movie. I was so zonked out that I didn't wake up until 1 p.m. today. I slept soundly the whole time and to my delight, I didn't wake up once coughing.

Today I reduced my dosage to five pills, but I'm worried because I took them so late in the day that it might prevent me from getting to sleep again tonight. I've got my fingers crossed, so we'll see what happens.

My heightened vision and hearing is still there, and my eyes are still sensitive to light. It occurred to me as I write this that I've recently read a similar account of sensory overload. I searched through Anne Rice's Interview With the Vampire and found this passage where the vampire Louis, tells the person interviewing him about the sensations he felt when Lestat drained him of his blood and made him a vampire:

I saw as a vampire . . . It was as if I had only just been able to see colors and shapes for the first time. . . . Then Lestat began to laugh, and I heard his laughter as I had never heard anything before . . . It was confusing, each sound running into the next sound, like the mingling reverberations of bells . . .

To me, this is close to what I've experienced. Hmmm . . . I think I've been reading too many vampire novels. I'll have to keep a close watch on my teeth and make sure I don't sprout fangs!

Three days into this ordeal the steroids seem to be doing their job, and this makes me a happy camper. In keeping with the spirit of my blog, I think it's time for something else cheerful . . .

*****

I believe that Stephen Colbert is hysterically funny -- all l I have to do is look at the guy and I crack up laughing! This is a clip from a show he did last year. It may be old, but it is one of the funniest things I've ever seen, and it never fails to make me laugh out loud. This is sheer comic genius.

The Colbert Report

Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Craziest F#?king Thing I've Ever Heard - Barreleye Fish

www.colbertnation.com

Colbert Report Full Episodes

2010 Election

March to Keep Fear Alive

Steroids Part 4

STEROIDS - PART 2

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 18:32:00 +0000

Steroids - Part 1

1:15 a.m. Well, I tried, but sleep is a no go. I wake up coughing, but it’s less severe than it has been. I am also soaked in sweat, but how can this be? It’s 40 degrees out, I’ve got the window wide open, the ceiling fan on low, and another small fan pointed right at me. I’m having flashbacks to menopause. I throw off my blankets and look over at Paul who’s wrapped up in three heavy blankets like a mummy. I take one of many trips to the bathroom then try to go back to sleep.

2:30 a.m. Still wide awake. I’m sweating again. Another trip to the bathroom. I want to watch TV because that usually puts me to sleep, but where’s the bloody remote? Our cat, Flash (a.k.a. Flashish, Woo-Woo Kitty), curls up next to me. She’s like a heat-seeking missile and finds the torrent of heat emanating from my body to her liking.

3:45 a.m. Still awake. One of the neighborhood skunks has decided to forage in our backyard and his aroma is wafting through the open window. Is my sense of smell heightened too? Paul’s still mummified and snoring away. I hate him right now.

4:30 a.m. I actually fall asleep for awhile, but wake up again coughing and soaked in sweat. Could somebody please shoot me?

10:00 a.m. After a few minor coughing spells and constantly pulling blankets off then pulling them back on, I managed to finally get some sleep. I get up, make myself some oatmeal, and swallow my six tablets.

*****

While battling this cold, I have struggled to complete my assignments for the two classes I’m taking at Harvard Extension School this semester:

Blogging and The Vampire in Literature and Film. It’s hard to be creative when you feel so rotten, but somehow I managed to write my blogs. In my Vampire class, we have to read a novel a week, which means I’ve got my nose planted in a book at all times.

So far I've read Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla, John Polidori's The Vampyre, Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Laurell K. Hamilton’s Guilty Pleasures. The books are fascinating, and reading about the undead seems very apropos under the circumstances.

Next on the reading list is Lord of the Dead by Tom Holland. This should be an interesting exercise, considering that the Prednisone has altered my vision.

Steroids - Part 3

STEROIDS - PART 1

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 18:27:00 +0000

This is Part 1 of a six-part series.

Today I started a 12-day regimen of the steroid Prednisone for asthma problems that arose from a severe cold I've had for 4 weeks. Today and tomorrow I take six tablets, then the dosage is slowly weaned down so that by the 12^th day I’ll be taking one tablet, then none.

The good news about Prednisone is that it is not the type of steroid that is abused by athletes. Great – at least I won’t end up looking like this:

The bad news about Prednisone is that it may produce some very strange side effects, including:

- Weight gain. (Oh, joy.)

- Increase of blood sugar. (I have Type II diabetes – what fun.)

- Difficulty sleeping (Great. Just what I need.)

- Increased sweating (Yippee!)

- Mood swings; nervousness. (This should be interesting.)

- Vomit that looks like coffee grounds. (WTF???)

The best time to take this medication is in the morning because it can cause difficulty sleeping, but I didn’t get out of my doctor’s office till 5 p.m. The pharmacist told me to take the six tabs ASAP, and they have to be taken with food. So I rushed home, had a quick peanut butter sandwich, swallowed the pills, and hoped for the best.

*****

8:30 p.m. I’m glued to the TV as the last of the 33 Chilean miners is raised to the surface. Finally, a news story worth watching. But something feels strange . . . some of my senses seem to be heightened. Everything I see seems crisper and sharper, as if the outlines of everything are more defined. I have to turn off the lamp next to me because the light seems so intense. My hearing has been affected too – the voices on the telly have a surreal ring to them. It sounds like Anderson Cooper is sitting right in my living room. I tell Paul, my husband and soul mate, about these sensations. He looks me in the eye and says, “Look at you – you’re out of your mind on steroids!” I tell him to shut up.

10:00 p.m. Paul and I retire to the bedroom to watch Top Chef Just Desserts. The most amazing thing has happened – my constant wheezing has disappeared. This is a good sign.

11:00 p.m. I want to watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, but where's the damn remote? Paul wants to go to sleep and won’t help me find it. He gets up and turns off the TV manually. I resign myself to a long evening of trying to get some sleep.

Steroids - Part 2

RAIN

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 01:08:00 +0000

It’s raining again. Our garden is far past the stage where we prayed to the rain gods for a good soaking to hasten the growth of tomato and cucumber vines. Today there is a small lake on the patio and the ground looks like an over-saturated sponge begging to be wrung out.

It seemed like spring would never get here as we impatiently awaited that magic moment when the ground warms up and the threat of frost passes. Finally, time to sow! It felt great to get back in the garden under a warm sun and to smell the rich soil as we tilled. That dirt got caked under our fingernails as my husband Paul and I eagerly planted perfect little rows of 3-inch seedlings of tomatoes, cukes and zucchini which we got from the Italian nursery in our town.

We thought there would be plenty of room for the plants as they grew, but soon they began to crowd each other out as they stretched toward the sun. Tomatoes quickly overtook sage as they jockeyed for position in our tiny garden.

Cucumbers sucked up the sun and took over the spot where we had planted delphiniums, and the cukes did it so effectively that it prevented subsequent blooms of the electric blue flowers.

And the zucchini . . . ah, the zucchini. Now there’s a challenging vegetable. Early on in summer the little plant exploded into a starburst of gargantuan leaves at the ends of thick, sturdy stems.

Huge, yellow flowers bloomed every morning and closed by mid-afternoon. We just knew we’d be getting tons of squashes – I mean, look at the size of those leaves! But after a dutiful month of watching it grow, daily inspections revealed that most of the flowers were males – the ones that DON’T produce squash. Undaunted, we kept a constant vigil. Then one day in July, there it was – a beautiful, colossal zucchini, resting on the ground under all those leaves.

This pattern would repeat itself throughout the summer: nothing . . . nothing . . . then boom – gigantic zucchini – as if some garden fairies had come in during the night and plunked the fleshy gourd at the base of the plant.

This year our garden provided us with an abundance of fragrant herbs, sweet, juicy rasperberries, and vegetables including tomatoes (4 varieties), peppers (4 varieties), Swiss chard, zucchini, and cucumbers.

Those vegetables made many colorful salads, our bushy basil plants turned into delicious pesto, and the raspberries made delicious tarts. I experimented with new recipes too: Swiss chard ravioli made with ricotta cheese, wonton wrappers and fresh herbs from the garden; yummy baked, stuffed zucchini; gorgeous yellow tomato soup. (I will devote an upcoming post to recipes.) You can't beat food shopping in your own backyard, and fresh, juicy just-picked veggies are a completely different beast from store-bought.

*****

My favorite time of day for being in the garden is the morning. Neighborhood kids haven't swarmed into the park behind our house yet, so it is peaceful and quiet with only the sounds of chattering mockingbirds, breezes rustling in trees, and music from my wind chimes. It is amazing how these sounds of nature drown out the noise of the city. Our garden is a perfect setting for daydreaming and easing into the day with that first cup of coffee.

*****

Remember that scene in Wizard of Oz where Dorothy opens the door after her house lands and the film goes from black and white to brilliant colors as she steps into Oz? Well, that’s what our garden resembled this year as we were treated to a profusion of stunning, colorful flowers and their intoxicating scents: hibiscus, daylillies, roses, bleeding hearts, delphinium, petunias, daisies, lavender and rose of Sharon.

We were visited by many guests in our garden this year, and they mesmerized and entertained us on hot summer days.

But now it is raining. Vegetable vines are spent, and the strong, green stalks and leaves have dried up and turned yellow, then brown. There are a few stragglers clinging to life; smaller, more wrinkled versions of their bounteous cousins that weighed down the branches in August. I savor these late tomatoes and cukes; they are still flavorful, but I hate to see their numbers dwindle as the days get shorter.

Finally, the rain stops. The water in the garden is receding. Soon the rain will be replaced by a protective blanket of snow in my sleeping garden. On dreary days like today it lifts my spirits to look back on the myriad colors and life that make up our own personal Oz.

During the winter I will occasionally take a peek at our garden. It saddens me to see everything looking so dead, but I know that before all the snow is gone, chives and tulips will begin poking out of the ground. Soon after, the planting ritual will play out again, and before you know it, I'll be blissfully sitting in my garden, sipping my morning coffee.

The Fifth Estate

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 18:23:00 +0000

Five years ago, in an attempt to reinvent myself, I became a journalism student. Unfortunately, no sooner had I started taking classes when the media industry took a nosedive. Newspapers and magazines became smaller, literally (have you seen how tiny Rolling Stone magazine is now?). The industry began laying off writers; according to Robert Hodierne, writing for American Journalism Review, over 15,000 newspaper jobs were cut in 2008.

So much for my new career.

I lamented the death of the Fourth Estate and wondered if I was doing the right thing by holding onto my journalism major. My fears were quelled, however, after listening to the latest lecture by Elizabeth Soutter, our blogging professor, who explained that journalism isn’t dying after all – it’s just different. People still read the news, but the way they read it has changed profoundly.

There are pros and cons about the shift of media from paper to digital, but the positives far outweigh the negatives. The most obvious advantage of digital media is that it moves at lightning speed and reaches more people around the globe faster than newspapers could ever do. The internet is being used effectively to change the course of history, by bringing people together for a common cause, even to the point of sparking revolts against oppressive governments, as Barrett Sheridan outlined in a Newsweek article last April titled “The Internet Helps Build Democracies” (http://www.newsweek.com/2010/04/30/is-the-internet-good-for-democracy-a-debate.html). In this article, Sheridan extols the impact of blogging: “Bloggers and tweeters are fulfilling the watchdog role in places where the mainstream media is muzzled.”

For better or worse, there can be no doubt that digital media has changed the face of American politics. According to politicsonline.com, Jerry Brown was the first person to do an e-mail campaign in 1992 (http://www.politicsonline.com/content/main/firsts/). Since then, politicians and pundits have exploited digital media to spread their views and raise money.

The downside of mixing digital media with politics is that anybody can say absolutely anything about anyone without having to go through the filter of editing. For every legitimate political website (http://www.whitehouse.gov/), there are thousands of websites that exploit the passions of Americans without ever seeing the light of truth (http://www.orlytaitzesq.com/). And thanks to YouTube, no politician will ever again be able to back away from "mis-statements" or "untruths" because the whole world watching.

But this open, uncensored platform is exactly the reason why digital media is so important; it is READERS who do the vetting, rather than an editorial staff. Now readers can let their voice be heard with a few clicks of a mouse, and these clicks can spur people into action. Take for example this August 31, 2010 post by mrsammercer on reddit.com titled: “I’ve had a vision and I can’t shake it: [Stephen] Colbert needs to hold a political rally in D.C.” (http://www.reddit.com/r/politics/comments/d7ntl/ive_had_a_vision_and_i_cant_shake_it_colbert/). mrsammercer later added this edit to his post:

The response to this post has blown my mind. I really did jump out of bed at like 5AM and type this thing up. Then I checked from work and it's front page and there's a Facebook page and people are emailing one of the Executive Producers. I was just hoping some people would get a laugh out of it . . .

Two weeks later Stephen Colbert announced on his show that he would hold a D.C. rally on October 30th called “The March to Keep Fear Alive” (http://www.keepfearalive.com/) in conjunction with a rally by Jon Stewart called “The Rally to Restore Sanity” (http://www.rallytorestoresanity.com/). Today, well over 100,000 people have pledged to attend the rallies (http://www.examiner.com/political-buzz-in-national/the-latest-updates-on-the-jon-stewart-and-stephen-colbert-d-c-rallies). How many people actually show up remains to be seen, but regardless of the turnout, an event this huge could never have been hatched in conventional news outlets as fast and effectively as it has online.

This is an exciting time to be a journalist; despite all the bogus websites in cyberspace, good writing is extremely important because nothing catches and holds readers’ attention better than a well-written piece. And since people scan web pages rather than read articles word-for-word (http://www.useit.com/alertbox/9710a.html), this gives digital media an added benefit of making journalists write more precisely and concisely. I can now breathe a sigh of relief; journalism is NOT dead after all.

RSS, WIDGETS, AND TAGS -- OH MY

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 14:42:00 +0000

You’ve seen these words online, but what exactly are they? How do you get them? And more importantly, are they effective tools for attracting people to your blog? Tracy Graves, a guest lecturer in the Blogging class I am taking at Harvard Extension School, answered these questions and attempted to take the mystery out of blogging. In this post I will utilize some of these tools to enhance my blog. Take a deep breath – here we go . . .

NAVIGATION: Tracy told us that successful blogs always have a clear system of navigation. To address this, I changed the color of my NAVBAR on my blog to blue so that it’s more noticeable. (It’s at the very top of this page.)

TAGS: Tags are extremely important because they are the flags that Google looks for. Blogger calls tags LABELS, and after searching Blogger help I figured out how to insert them into your post. It’s simple – when you’re writing or editing a post, there is a box at the bottom of the “compose” window that says “labels.” All you have to do is enter the terms you want Google to pick up. I edited my post titled “This Bird Has Flown” and added the labels: "motherhood," “empty nest,” “going to college” and “growing up." These now appear at the bottom of my post. I will use labels in all of my future posts.

WIDGETS: As an artist I know that one of the most important concepts when you are in creation mode is that you have to know enough to stop when you’re done. I like websites that are clean, without a lot of distracting gizmos flashing at me. So it is with some hesitancy on my part that I have added widgets to my blog.

Widgets are plug-ins – self-contained pieces of functionality. Again, Blogger uses different terminology and calls widgets GADGETS. I searched Blogger’s gadget menu and added the following gadgets to my blog:

A list of courses I’m taking this semester, with links to the course websites
A list of blogs I follow
Funny Things to Ponder
True Blood pictures (because having to wait till next summer for the new season is torture!)

I will look at these gadgets later to decide whether I really want to keep them or not. Again, I find them distracting from the main focus of my blog, which is my writing.

RSS: I see these little orange logos everywhere on the internet. RSS (which stands for “Really Simple Syndication”) is a way to subscribe to blogs, news feeds, etc. To add an RSS feed in Blogger you click on “Add a gadget,” and choose “Feed” from the list of gadgets. This brings up a window where you paste the URL for the feed you want to insert. I’ve added an RSS to the New York Times on my blog.

STATISTICS: During class I learned about using statistics to keep track of who is viewing my blog. Blogger has a statistics tool and when I checked it out I found that there isn’t much data since I’ve just started this blog. Hopefully, this will develop over time. I did, however, set the stats page so that it will not track my own pageviews.

One other important item I learned in class this week is that when you blog you really have two audiences: the regular reader and the newbie. Therefore, you have to be aware of both of these readers in every post.

I can see that this is just the beginning level of blogging and there is still much to learn. Baby steps . . .

This Bird Has Flown

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 17:47:00 +0000

Last weekend my husband Paul, daughter Marcy and I made the grueling ten hour drive, schlepping Marcy and all her stuff to George Mason University (GMU) in Virginia. This is Marcy’s sophomore year.

Last year the three of us experienced the wild emotions of sending your kid off to college for the first time. Marcy was scared to death and was afraid that nobody would like her. We were scared to death – this was our baby, and were sending her off to the unknown to fend for herself. The minute Paul and I got in the car after moving Marcy into her dorm I wanted to run back in, take her in my arms and protect her from all the horrible things in this world – drunken boys, mean girls, drunken boys. When we got home I went into her room and sat there for hours, looking at all the little girl stuff she had left behind -- Pokemon cards; ceramic tea pots; mountains of stuffed animals; her favorite tiny white "cha-cha" shoes she wore as a toddler. I went to her closet and sniffed her clothes and visions of the shy, tiny young girl overwhelmed me.

Two weeks later Marcy called us; she was out of breath as she told us that she had auditioned and made it into Urbanknowledgy 101, (UK 101), George Mason's hip-hop dance team. She got her first English paper back and got an "A." She had lots of friends. She loved her classes. She was in better shape than we were.

The following month we went to visit her during Parents’ Weekend. We watched Marcy and her UK 101 team perform to a full house during “Mason Madness” in the huge campus arena. After the show she found us in the crowd and introduced us to two of her team members. They were giggling excitedly after dancing their hearts out. We were going to take Marcy to dinner, but she said, "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry. There's a party for UK101 and we're all going. You don't mind, do you?" Then she was off, cell phone attached to her ear.

I felt differently this time when we left her to return home. She had settled into her new life and was happy. But a new emotion hit me -- she no longer needed us.

When Marcy returned home this summer she told us that she loved college. She said she felt like she had matured and that she could make it on her own. She felt free. We saw very little of her while she was home. Our house was little more than a bed and home base for Marcy and all her stuff.

When Paul and I returned from Virginia last week there were no tears. Marcy was reunited with her friends and got right back into the swing of campus life. She’s fully independent now. We expected to never hear from her this semester.

******

Friday, 4:30 p.m. Marcy calls, screaming hysterically. She lost her debit card. Luckily I was able to put a stop on her card. But now there was a new dilemma -- she had no way to access money in her account. And it’s Labor Day weekend. And Marcy needs to buy textbooks. Panic set in.

I go to the website of the Virginia bank where Marcy has an account and figure out a way to electronically transfer money from her account back home, to the Virginia account. Problem: the Virginia bank has to send test deposit and withdrawal transactions between banks before they can finalize setting up this feature. This will take a couple of days. And it's Labor Day weekend.

Plan B. I go to Western Union’s website. I fill out online forms to wire money to Marcy. The transaction doesn’t go through. WTF??!! I call Western Union. New plan. Paul goes to nearest Western Union office with $500 in cash. He waits in line FOREVER because this place also cashes checks and everybody in the world was there cashing paychecks for the long Labor Day weekend.

Paul is finally able to wire money to a Western Union office in a supermarket near GMU. I call Marcy and tell her where to pick up the money. Mission accomplished.

Ten minutes later Marcy calls from her car and says she can't figure out how to get to the supermarket which is about 1.5 mi. away from campus and involves only three turns on major roadways. Google in one hand, phone in the other, I become her co-pilot. Go straight. Left at lights. Left at lights. She finds the store. She gets the money.

******

So what are the reasons to be cheerful in this story? We nurtured a shy, scared little girl and helped her become a well-adjusted, intelligent, and (mostly) self-sufficient woman. Yes, the nest is empty; this bird has flown. But she still needs us in her life.

MARCY, Summer 2010

Kandinsky

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 19:42:00 +0000

Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944) was a Russian artist who made the most astounding paintings. His use of color and geometric figures create harmony, much like music.

Im Blau

Yellow, Red and Blue

Weiches Hart

Several Circles

(THIS IS MY FAVORITE)

The Guggenheim Museum has an incredible Kandinsky collection.

You can purchase beautiful poster reproductions of many of Kandinsky's paintings, as well as work by other artists, at AllPosters.com.

*****

In the early 2000's I created and sold collages:

It didn't dawn on me at the time, but after looking at them as a whole, I realized that I was heavily influenced by Kandinsky.

Blogging -- First Impressions

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 17:15:00 +0000

I spend too many hours on the internet each day reading political news and blogs, and more often than not these blogs make my head want to explode. For relief, my guilty pleasure is checking out what’s going on in the bizarre world of “celebrities” by reading Perez Hilton’s blog (http://perezhilton.com/), TMZ (http://www.tmz.com/), and X17 online (http://x17online.com/). There’s something deeply gratifying about watching wealthy train wrecks implode – schadenfreude is good for the soul.

But I never got into reading personal blogs. I don’t know why I never plunged into that pool before – maybe it’s because the thought of reading someone’s daily posts seemed boring to me, or maybe following someone’s life online seemed to me like the digital equivalent of stalking. But my fears were unfounded. In last night’s class Elizabeth introduced us to the world of personal blogs and I was ecstatic to discover that not all blogs consist of doom and gloom.

Reading Heather Armstrong’s blog “A Simple Kind of Chaos” (http://www.dooce.com/) made me feel like I was talking with an old friend on the phone. It is easy to relate to someone who brings out the garbage and recycling in a ratty old t-shirt and bed head only to be approached by new neighbors. I had one of those moments myself when a friend visited me right after I had applied coloring to my hair. He wanted to show me something in his car, so I had to go out to the driveway in my holiest t-shirt with my hair piled up on top of my head in a white, foamy froth. Of course, every neighbor on my street was outside and saw me at my haggard best.

When Elizabeth told us about Karyn Bosnak’s foray into blogging I thought, here is a smart woman. Sure, Karyn got herself into her own mess, but her solution to getting herself out of debt was ingenious. (http://www.savekaryn-originalsite.com/). The fact that she parlayed her crisis into a successful blog (http://prettyinthecity.blogspot.com/) is brilliant.

Elizabeth’s blog, “Motherhood is Not for Wimps” (http://damomma.com/) is another personal blog that piques my interest and makes me happy. I mean, come on – who else in their right mind would think of throwing your kids off high platforms to shut them up! Elizabeth’s snippets show the joys, frustrations, and everything in between, of motherhood. She’s right – motherhood is NOT for wimps – it changes everything.

Our first class assignment is to contemplate what makes a blog successful. For me, a blog must be well-written; a blogger who writes, “Today I went shopping. After that I went to the hairdresser. Came home and cooked dinner. Watched the news and went to bed,” is not going to hold my interest. You can read plenty of this blather on Facebook.

The best way to make a successful blog is exactly what Elizabeth spoke about in class: bloggers have to have something compelling to say. This doesn’t mean that each post must contain earth-shattering revelations; bloggers must give something to the reader that is lacking in other “communities” on the internet. The reader needs to be able to relate to what the bloggers are writing. The blogs I’ve cited here make me feel like I’m not the only crazy person on this planet. I thought it was interesting when Elizabeth told us that once people start blogging they typically end up revealing much more about their personal lives than they had planned. Maybe this is why the most successful blogs flourish; personal blogs, whether funny or poignant, reveal the nature of humankind in all our mundane, fallible glory.

With their honest simplicity, successful personal blogs smash through the impersonal “us vs. them” mentality found in political blogs and provide a much-needed respite from the news of the world. It’s the little everyday scenarios that make life interesting: watching a child take their first steps, dogs chasing squirrels, poopie diapers – this is the stuff of life.