My Week with Marilyn

Because I have been fascinated with the complex persona of Marilyn Monroe for years, I have read everything I could get my hands on about her, and was curious to see My Week with Marilyn as soon as it opened.  I loved it although it would not be everyone's cup of tea. 

Shortly after Marilyn married Arthur Miller, the couple flew to England. She was to star in a movie with Laurence Olivier, a huge feather in her cap. The movie was fraught with almost insurmountable problems from the getgo. Olivier, who had never appeared in a movie was used to appearing in front of a large audience. Marilyn wanted desperately to do theatre, but had only appeared in movies.

In addition, her addiction to drugs and alcohol was beginning to take hold, she had a terrible time memorizing her lines, and often appeared on the set hours late. Complicating matters was her dependance on Paula Strausberg, her drama coach, who was just about as weird as she could be.

The plot was almost secondary to the acting, camera work and lighting. Michelle Williams was wonderful as Marilyn, and Eddie Redmayne, the young man on the set who falls in love with her delivered his role with a poignancy perfectly suited to his predicament. What I loved best about the movie was that it proved once again that although, flawed, Marilyn was a marvelous actress.  How sad.  As time passed in her life she became increasingly tortured due to her inability to release herself from "Marilyn" and become the brilliant actress she might have been.

It's All Temporary

The End

I Don't Remember

I Don't Remember...

by Ash L Bennett

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."

Thanksgiving Day Prayer

Thanksgiving Day Prayer
by Walter Rauschenbusch (1861–1918)

For the wide sky and the blessed sun,
For the salt sea and the running water,
For the everlasting hills
And the never-resting winds,
For trees and the common grass underfoot.
We thank you for our senses
By which we hear the songs of birds,
And see the splendor of the summer fields,
And taste of the autumn fruits,
And rejoice in the feel of the snow,
And smell the breath of the spring.
Grant us a heart wide open to all this beauty;
And save our souls from being so blind
That we pass unseeing
When even the common thornbush
Is aflame with your glory,
O God our creator,
Who lives and reigns for ever and ever.

It's All Temporary

The Parrot

When Uncle Charley died of old age, Bill was bequeathed his uncle's prized Amazon parrot. This parrot was fully grown -- with a bad attitude and a worse vocabulary.  Every other word was an expletive.  Those that weren't expletives were, to say the very least, extremely rude.

Bill tried hard to change the bird's attitude and was constantly saying polite words, playing soft music, anything he could think of to try and set a good example.

Nothing worked.  Exasperated, he yelled at the bird.  But the bird only got louder.  Then he shook the parrot. But the bird just got more angry and more rude.

Finally, in a moment of desperation, Bill put the parrot in the freezer.  For a few moments he heard the bird squawking, kicking, and screaming.

     

Then, suddenly, all was quiet.  Bill was frightened that he might have hurt his dead uncle's prized parrot and quickly opened the freezer door.  The parrot calmly stepped out onto Bill's extended arm and said:  "I am truly sorry that I might have offended you with my language and action and I humbly ask your forgiveness.  I will now, from this day forth, endeavor to correct my behavior so that such an ill-perceived outburst never again occurs."

Bill was completely astonished at the bird's change in attitude and was about to ask what caused such a dramatic change when the parrot continued, "May I ask what the chicken did?"

Swimming Update

Good news on my swimming progress - I am enjoying it beyond my wildest expectations. Part of the pleasure is due to three purchases: goggles, fins, and a bathing cap.  For the first time in my life I am able to do an honest to goodness free style, probably due to the fact that the goggles and cap prevent  water from invading my ears and eyes. I stopped counting laps because I can never remember what lap I am on. I swim and as I swim, I either recite my Alexander Technique mantra (my back is lengthening and widening, my back is lengthening and widening, my arms are lengthening, my legs are lengthening) or I write scripts for my puppets in my head. 

The picture was taken by one of the girls at the Y. I emailed it to my two sons which caused a flurry of emails.  They were both horrified at my bathing suit: From Josh: Great picture! Now you just need a new suit, mom. Is that a built in skirt around the waist?? Reply from Alex:  I think she sewed it on after she bought it. Or maybe it's velcro. She keeps the skirt on when she trains and then rips it off when she is on the blocks before a race. Needless to say, I have been shamed into ordering a skirtless bathing suit on line.  It is purple.  I will look like a plum paddling up and down the lanes as my back lengthens and widens.

Tara and Bella

Reflections from a Pet Sitter: Hoover

"No doggie does it like you, the way that you do, Hoover, no doggie does it like you." I sing to Hoover, a 13 year old Basset Hound, as I tug him up the hill.  He is well named, as he looks exactly like that trusty vacuum, and no doggie does anything quite like Hoover.  Those mournful eyes look at me sadly as we plod along, his floppy ears dusting the gutter, always cleaning something.

Today I noticed a subtle lilt to his step. I use the term sparingly, as this little bounce would not be discernible to all but the most observant eye.  I asked him if he was in a good mood and he said yes, his mother had left mood music on the radio for him and it made him happy.  I remarked that he could listen to the OJ trial* but he said no. Marcia Clark made him very nervous.  He prefers the music.  He went on to say that he knows what happened that night, anyway, Nicole's Akida told him, and he thinks we humans could save ourselves a lot of fuss if we would just ask the dog.

I walk Hoover twice a day when his parents go away, and he is so very grateful.  Hoover cannot be rushed.  Ever. You have heard of the four minute mile? With Hoover it is the four inch mile -- he is a very thorough sniffer.  In our hurry-up, get-it-done-yesterday world, he teaches me patience, and so I am as grateful to Hoover as he is to me.

We have a mutual admiration thing going.  When it is time for me to leave, the garage door swings closed, and he looks at me as if my departure is breaking his heart in two.  Never have I known any living creature to look so upset when I leave. We discussed this during one of our journeys up the hill, but he said not to let this upset me.  One of the songs on the radio talked about laughing on the outside, crying on the inside, but he said with him, it is just the opposite; he's crying on the outside but laughing on the inside.  We both got a good chuckle out of this as we continued our four minute inch.

----------------------------------------

*Written during the OJ trial!

Jason Sho Green

A fellow blogger forwarded me this: Sometimes doodling can get out of control. From afar these amazing quilted assemblages of ball point pen marvelings appear to look like well executed portraits. Up close, you have bought yourself a ticket to an entire world of doodles. Wow.

www.jasonshogreen.com

The Ties That Bind

Chapungu Stone Sculptures, Loveland, Colorado

Periodically I will post more pictures of the Chapungu stone sculptures.  Walking around the sculpture park in Loveland can be almost overwhelming. The logistics of transporting these statues from Zimbabwe to Colorado are more than I can imagine.

" . . . the Zimbabwe sculptors create art that is simple, authentic, rich, sensitive, imaginary, and has unique dimension.  Themes of father, mother, child, family, hardship, loss, humor and joy are universal facts of life. These artists are adept in bringing collective happenings to the present moment in stone. John Ostlund

www.chapungusculpturepark.com/

She Was Beside Herself

I have not reached that enviable position of "being comfortable in my own skin" so I manufacture a variety of tricks to convince myself that I am actually ok.  Being beside myself is one of them. It eliminates the necessity of facing an unidentifiable obstacle alone. The obstacle could be almost anything, probably benign, but you never know.

1) To have an identical twin is a nifty trick, especially when she is brave.  My twin seems to be everywhere these days, popping up when I least expect her. She just returned from getting a flu shot, as well as a whooping cough booster which was sweet of her because she knows I hate needles.  Strange, Jan got the shot but my arm hurts . . . 

Anne

Jan

2) And then there are the puppets. The puppets play a far different role, they don't accompany me on my daily journey but remain home and only come out when I demand a performance. These performances are frequent, my puppets are much happier when kept busy.  They bring out the best in me, they bring out the worst in me. What is important is that they tell me what I need to know about myself.  Therapy is too expensive, and besides, my puppets are more fun. 

Gracie and Deedee

Nick

So many pictures this time, but I think they were all necessary, don't you?

HIS EYE IS ON THE SPARROW

A female bluebird was hit by a car as she swooped low across the road, and the condition was soon fatal.

Her male mate brought her food and attended her with love and compassion.

He brought her food again, but was shocked to find her dead.

He tried to move her - a rarely seen effort.

Aware his mate was dead and would never come back to him

Again, he cried out with adoring love

And stood beside her with sadness and sorrow.

Millions of people were touched after seeing these photos in all continents. The photographer sold these pictures for a nominal fee to the famous magazine in France. All copies of that edition sold out on the day these pictures were published.

And many people think animals and birds don't have brains or feelings. You have just witnessed love and sorrow felt by God's creatures. The Bible says that God knows when a sparrow falls. Imagine how much He cares for us!

I May Not Be Much, But I'm All I Think About All Day Long

"a wild, fresh wind blowing. . ." by Charles Bukowski

a wild, fresh wind blowing…

I should not have blamed only my father, but,

he was the first to introduce me to

raw and stupid hatred.

he was really best at it: anything and everything made him

mad-things of the slightest consequence brought his hatred quickly

to the surface

and I seemed to be the main source of his

irritation.

I did not fear him

but his rages made me ill at heart

for he was most of my world then

and it was a world of horror but I should not have blamed only

my father

for when I left that… home… I found his counterparts

everywhere: my father was only a small part of the

whole, though he was the best at hatred

I was ever to meet.

but others were very good at it too: some of the 

foremen, some of the street bums, some of the women

I was to live with,

most of the women, were gifted at 

hating-blaming my voice, my actions, my presence

blaming me

for what they, in retrospect, had failed

at.

I was simply the target of their discontent

and in some real sense

they blamed me

for not being able to rouse them

out of a failed past; what they didn't consider was

that I had my troubles too-most of them caused by

simply living with them.

I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even

stupidly happy almost without cause

and left alone I am mostly content.

but I've lived so often and so long with this hatred

that

my only freedom, my only peace is when I am away from

them, when I am anywhere else, no matter where-

some fat old waitress bringing me a cup of coffee

is in comparison

like a fresh wild wind blowing.

Be Happy

Tai Situ Rinpoche

Swimming

I am swimming!  This may or may not be a big deal to anyone else, but it is a very big deal to me. I became inspired after reading Zenhabits (one of my favorite blogs) on changing ones habits, slowly but surely, like my friend, the turtle.  Zenhabits says "focus on one habit at a time and make a decision to change."  It is important to concentrate on only one thing at a time, otherwise changing one's ways can be overwhelming, bringing on procrastination, discouragement and defeat.

http://www.yourswimmingspace.com/benefits-of-swimming.html

I am a member of the local YMCA and am lucky enough to be able to swim when the pool is almost empty.  For those of you who are familiar with my "brave twin, scared twin" syndrome, I have discovered that allowing my brave twin to plunge into the pool is far easier than my cowardly twin. She just jumps right in and starts kicking. Neither twin is the picture of grace. I make my way up the lane like a crab, propelling my arms one way and my feet another.  Sometimes I lie on my back and kick, sometimes I do a breaststroke/butterfly combo.  My freestyle is a tortured mess, I need lessons from my granddaughters. There is a wonderful website on the benefits of swimming and the following is taken from that:

Water Resistance: Unlike air, water is a constant source of resistance, and though aiding us through buoyancy, it still requires more work to move through than air. But the stress of the movement is shifted away from the weight-bearing joints to the actual muscles. This means any movements done in the water can be both aerobic and anaerobic (think lifting weights and running at the same time but without the stress on your body!) And because water resistance can be controlled by the participant’s level of intensity, workouts can be customized to meet the needs of any age or ability.

To date I have gone three times and swam 20 laps each time.  I am telling you this because, although brave, my twin needs moral support. Confession is good for the soul, and I will need to confess from time to time if I don't keep at it.  As winter comes, plunging into that pool may be less inviting, even though the water is warm, even for a brave twin.  To be continued.