Marilynne's World

I snagged a questionnaire from  lin and she snagged it from chauceriangirl.  It looks like fun.  Copy and paste away if you please.  Let me know if you did.  I’ll be curious to see your answers.

1. Were you named after anyone?
My Mom named me Marilyn after Marilyn Maxwell, a movie star she liked.  My Dad wanted a biblical name, so my middle name is Ruth (which is also the name of my Mom’s friend).
2. When was the last time you cried?
Any time I see a weeper of a movie you’ll find me sniffing and looking for my hankie.
3. Do you like your handwriting?
I do.  I spent a lot of time perfecting all those neat letters.  I might as well enjoy it.
4. What is your favorite lunch meat?
Lin doesn’t like lunch meat and I don’t either.  However, my favorite sandwich is chunky peanut butter on wheat or good artisan bread.
5. Do you have kids?
I have three daughters of whom I am very proud.
6. If you were another person would you be friends with you?
How could I possibly know that?  I think other people like me.
7. Do you use sarcasm a lot?
Who me?
8. Do you still have your tonsils?
No.  They came out when I was small.
9. Would you bungee jump?
No way!
10. What is your favorite cereal?
I do like cereal for breakfast.  Probably my favorite is whole wheat cereal (hot) cooked with fresh apples, raisins, and a lot of cinnamon.  Of course, you have to pour cream on it to make it really good.
11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
Sometimes
12. Do you think you are strong?
I am really strong for my age and so is my husband.  When you consider my health issues, that’s pretty startling.
13. What is your favorite ice cream?
Those little mini Drumsticks that are just like the big ones, but are so much smaller and have a smaller calorie bite.
14. What is the first thing you notice about people?
I want to know if they’re looking at me and if so, do they like what they see?  After that I want to know the inner person.
15. Red or pink?
I like them both, but today I’m wearing pink.
16. What is the least favorite thing about yourself?
I get to talking and forget to engage my brain.
17. Who do you miss the most?
I miss my kids.  None of them live close.
18. Do you want everyone to send (link) this back to you?
It would be nice, but you are free to do what you like about it.
19. What color pants and shoes are you wearing?
Grey sweat pants with a pink stripe, a pink T shirt, and no shoes – just grey and pink short socks with birds on them.
20. What was the last thing you ate?
Roasted almonds.
21. What are you listening to right now?
Just the click of my keyboard.
22. If you where a crayon, what color would you be?
I agree with Lin here.  I’d like to be plum – maybe plum with a streak of pink and another of cream.
23. Favorite smells?
Home, flowers, fresh air (my home often smells of fresh air), clean laundry, but not my dog.  He smells like dog.
24. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
I have no idea.  Probably a telemarketer.  I’m not a phone person.
25. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
I surely do.
26. Favorite sports to watch?
Not a watcher of sports.
27. Hair color?
Grey so white people comment on it.
28. Eye color?
Grey blue.
29. Do you wear contacts?
No.  I feel that I rub my eyes too much.
30. Favorite food?
I like to eat.  It’s all my favorite.  However, my favorite for today is the fresh peach we ate last night.  I want more.
31. Scary movies or happy endings?
Happy endings.  I don’t see the point of being scared artificially.
32. Last movie you watched?
Salt.  It was scary.
33. What color shirt are you wearing?
Pink to top my pink and grey sweats.
34. Summer or winter?
I like fall here in San Diego.  Summer’s too hot and winter is cold enough to keep the windows shut.
35. Hugs or kisses?
Hugs AND kisses.  Why not have both?
36. Favorite dessert?
Angel food cake with strawberries and cream.  No icing!  I don’t like cake with icing.
37. What book are you reading now?
“Death in the Garden” by Elizabeth Ironside.  I’m reading it slowly because it’s an English novel.  They don’t approve of people who race through to the end.
38. What is on your mouse pad?
Lightning.
39. What did you watch on TV last night?
House Hunters International.  I wonder if I was as stupid when I looked for a house.
40. Favorite sound?
The birds singing in the morning.
43. Rolling Stones or Beatles?
Beatles.
41. What is the farthest you have been from home?
Australia.
42. Do you have a special talent?
I square dance, write mystery novels, paint in watercolors, and play the piano.  I wish I had enough time to do them all every day.
43. Where were you born?
Ontario, Canada.
44. What time is it now?
It’s almost 9 PM and I’m worn out.

I woke this morning thinking about Valentine’s Day.  I used to hate it.  My hate had its roots in grade school.  When I was in grade school, Valentine’s Day could be hurtful.  We’d each decorate a shoebox and put a slot in it for valentines.  Then for a few days the valentines would go into the box anonymously.    I was fairly popular at school, but I dreaded opening my box.

This was before the rule that you gave everyone a valentine card.  In MY DAY you just gave valentines to your friends.  You didn’t have to give any at all.  These valentines meant something!  I always hoped for a lot of valentines.  I never got that many.  Maybe a few from my close friends.  Maybe one or two that said something like “Hello Valentine.  You’re the ugliest girl in class.  Stay away from me.”  There was always someone who got a fancy valentine or two instead of those little packaged valentines.  I guess you could say Valentine’s Day was a little hard on my ego.  Believe me, there were no ugly girls in my class.

So, grow me up and give me boyfriends.  Did a boyfriend ever give me a valentine or a box of candy?  Not that I can remember.  In my teens you read a lot about such things, but most of the girls I knew didn’t get gifts from their boyfriends.  But I really wanted a fancy valentine from my boyfriend.  But I didn’t get one.  At least there were no insulting cards either.

Grow me up some more and see me marrying the love of my life.  Look at those pictures I have with love in our eyes.  And I did get a huge frilly  box of chocolates for our first Valentine’s Day.  There was a catch.  My love had been in a bar the whole night playing pool and cards with the guys.  When he was leaving, the woman who sold cigarettes told him he’d better buy a valentine for his wife if he wanted to get in the door.  He woke me up with the big frilly heart-shaped box of chocolates and he was so drunk he told me how he came to buy them.  We weren’t there yet.

Skip ahead a bit.  We own a house and we’ve filled it with three daughters and lots of debt.  I finally told the love of my life how I felt about Valentine’s Day.  Everyone I knew was getting flowers and chocolates and all sorts of other things for Valentine’s Day, but not me.  How did he think that made me feel?  I hated Valentine’s Day.  It left him speechless.  After all, he worked hard to support us all.  He loved us all.  Wasn’t that enough?  Should be, I told him, but I want at least a card for Valentine’s Day.   Inspired, I told him, if you give me  a mushy (really romantic)  card I promise to believe every word of it.

I have a truly wonderful collection of mushy valentine cards he’s given me through the years.  I’ve learned to speak up about my expectations.  You see, I thought he should know these things without being told.  I guess I thought he’d learned it in his mother’s womb.  I was wrong.  Valentine’s Day has been pretty good since I told him about my hopes and expectations.

This morning when I got up there was a mushy Valentine’s Day card on my plate and a small box of chocolates underneath it.  The box is small, but the chocolates are very nice.  I asked for a small box because I shouldn’t have them, but this year I just wanted them.  I wanted chocolates and I wanted flowers.  He’s going to get the flowers tomorrow when they’re not so pricey.  Do I care?  No, I love anticipating what he’s going to buy.  We’re going out to dinner too.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you all.

Marilynne

I didn’t really know how to title this.  Roy and I had a great visit with our daughter Lisa and her friends Scott and Emily.  Venice Beach is a place like no other.  Kooky for sure.  Beachy for sure.  Why don’t I tell you in pictures?

I have a whole collection of characters that belong to me.

Scott, Lisa, Roy, Me

There were plenty of characters on the beach. I’ll add their pictures below.

A contortionist. I'd hate to be in that position for long, wouldn't you?

The contortionist was kind of bored and just sitting there. It was pretty warm and she was facing the sun.

Not sure who he's supposed to be, but it isn't Halloween is it?

The man on skates was entertaining. He had a smile for everyone and was willing to stop skating and just be kooky for his audience.

Wouldn't you like to look like that after a baby? But shopping?

Two ladies shopping:  I wouldn’t be caught dead dressing like that to go shopping, but this is the beach after all. I admit to wondering how she gave birth to that sweet baby and kept her figure.

The man in the foreground wanted to dance out there to the music.

Stunts with hoops and bicycles.  We watched the athletes swirl and do tricks inside the hoops for a long time. Someone had brought a boom box and the man with the bicycle just danced around them.

True character - patience getting it on just right.

Father and son. I took this photo because the father was showing great patience trying to get the bracelet onto his son’s arm. Most men would have thrown it down and stomped on it in frustration. It was taking a long time.

I hope you enjoyed the photos. I certainly enjoyed being at Venice Beach and visiting with our daughter and her friends while we took in this unusual beach scene. Turn around from the stores and there’s the beach.  Here’s one last photo to calm your eyes.

Our daughter, me and my husband. Photographer: Emily Siskin

Marilynne

I’ve been visiting the doctor for a fair amount of maintenance lately (if you’re over 50 you’ll know what I mean) and I’ve run across a problem.  Picture the doctor’s examining room.  It’s dominated by a “table” not big enough to feed a child and you’re meant to sit on it so the doctor can talk to you eye-to-eye about your problem.  If you’re very good, maybe you get to sit in a chair for a few minutes, but usually the doctor or nurse says something like “Hop up there and let’s have a look at you.”  I’m a fairly large woman.  Surely he can sense my presence in the room, but apparently I must do this  in order to have his complete attention.

This table is padded and covered with some indestructible, apparently disinfect-able substance, but over this they put the flimsiest of paper covers.  These covers are narrow and slippery.  When you are told to “Hop up there” you are apparently supposed to launch yourself from the side of the table using the tiny step provided and while doing so, readjust your position so that your butt lands on the paper.

So, the step is a size that a grade school child could put her foot on sideways.  I am expected to put my foot on the step (only one, there’s not room for two feet), balance on the ball of my foot, swing my body around so it will land on the “table” and land with as much grace as possible without moving or tearing the paper cover.

As I mentioned, I am a woman of a grand size.  I cannot stand on that step because parts of my body would push me right off.  So, it’s going to be a light hop, disco swing (did I mention I’m 70?), and sit carefully and gracefully.

No can do, but I did notice at the doctor’s yesterday that I was able to manage the maneuver.  I grinned, but he didn’t notice.  Must have been I lost those five pounds in exactly the right place.

Marilynne