Pebbles

Pebbles
Originally uploaded by skron.

Good thing a picture is worth a thousand words because I'm too tired for anymore.
This was taken in Zion National Park last month.

Blogger Beta

Blogger is telling us that we can now download pictures from Flickr. After too many frustrating moments I am going to try yet again. . . . If no photo appears I will leave this up as a testament to technology and beta versions of the same.

Enough said

Product Alert!

For the ladies only--how many of you knew that they now make spray on hose? This was a discovery I made just yesterday. It makes me think somehow of the World War II stories of women who drew a line down the back of their legs to make it look like they were wearing nylons.
I can see the headline now:
Would be robber suffocates after trying to don girlfriend's spray on panty hose!
Cheers

But do we deserve a refund. . . .

I just ran into the latest in the James Frey, A Million Little Pieces, saga. I assume by now anyone literate enough to read a Blog knows that Mr. Frey made up much of his previously "acclaimed memoir". There have been months of accusations, denials, admissions and retractions since the publication of this book which became a best-seller, was featured by Oprah and so on.
In the interest of honesty, I have to admit that I fell for the story. Despite my professional knowledge of the perils of alcohol and drug addiction and of the methods used to treat them, I demonstrated an excess of credulity and as they say, bought it hook, line and sinker. Well, now I feel like one stupid fish.













I actually recommended the book to a couple of people before a colleague told me it seemed likely that parts of the book were fabricated. I think I need some therapy for the psychic damage this did to my ego.
One section of the book aroused a bit of question in my mind. In a scene reminiscent of the movie Midnight Express (torture by dental drill), Frey has extensive dental work without pain killers. Apparently Frey's treatment center feels that pain relief is too dangerous for recovering addicts. Now, I know that there can be crazy fads in the drug rehabilitation business, but let's get real. Next will there be open heart surgery done awake and without pain relief. "Now sir, just bite on this bullet here. . . . " Of course, for all I know this may be the one true part of the book. By the way, if you are afraid of dentists, do not read this part. It is truly hair-raising even for a work of fiction.
Now word has it that Random House, Mr. Frey's publisher is settling a lawsuit by people who feel cheated that they bought a memoir and got a work of fiction. I got this information from the Radar on Line web-site.(http://www.radaronline.com/exclusives/2006/09/pulp-friction-random-house-to-make-pieces-offering.php)
And since we have already established that I believe everything I read, I now have to decide if I will get in line to recover "damages" from having read the book. At least will Mr. Frey pay for the therapy session I've booked to aid in my credulity-therapy?
Radar On Line tells me that I am unlikely to get anything back from this lawsuit except perhaps a vague sense of satisfaction. Even if the settlement happens I generally do not hold onto receipts of paperback books I buy. To my shame, I may not qualify for the refund anyway because I likely bought the book after word got out about the deception (since my colleague had already heard rumors of falsehood). And I'm not sure if a refund of $14.95 or so will really undo the pain and anguish cost by Mr. Frey's deception. I mean, this may take years of therapy to fix.
All kidding aside, what really needs to be asked is: are readers entitled to compensation if a writer lies? What comes next, class-action lawsuits by readers of the National Enquirer? It would be a nice change for them--they usually get the libel suits from the celebrities in question. Isn't this a little like someone who embezzles millions of dollars. Shouldn't Frey be made to give the money back to all his readers and his publisher? Or as some argue, if I was stupid enough to believe I was reading a memoir, I have no cause to whine about it publicly.
I might want to try to claim a refund because I want to punish Frey, but I honestly don't really feel entitled to the fruits of a fairly frivolous lawsuit. Perhaps Frey and his readers who get refunds should donate their ill-gotten gains to a worthy cause, like promoting effective treatments for drug and alcohol abuse. Now that would be a happy ending. But of course now we're really talking fiction.

Belated posting--Lucca, Italy, June 22-23, 2006

June 22-23

More about Lucca. This is not intended to replace a tour guide. First of all, I have no intention of visiting every major tourist site. Others have done this better than I and the kids will not put up with it. Last year we did climb the Torre Guinigi and enjoyed it very much. The view was fantastic and there is a certain romance to trees on top of a tower. There are other towers to be climbed but maybe another trip.
Let me instead tempt you to visit with a description of our breakfast stop. We sit in a café in a small square. Zoning laws in Lucca must be quite interesting. The tables and umbrellas are laid out in the middle of a road. How did this café get permission to do this? Across the square from us is a fountain shaped like a bathtub. People fill their water bottles from a tap on the side. I’m too anxious about GI disturbances to do the same. Not that I doubt that the water is potable, but living in France 20 years ago, I discovered that I avoided minor but chronic GI upset by not drinking tap water and it was well worth the investment in bottled water. My husband thinks I am paranoid.

There is a small church across the way as well. It has some wonderful marble carvings above the arched doors although the walls are unremarkable. A few older women wander in to pray. There are few tourists in this particular square. Next to the church is another ancient building housing the local ambulance corps. The ambulances are parked next to the church walls which is a typical European juxtaposition of ancient and modern. I think you have to come from a historically young country such as the United States to be as strongly struck by these contrasts. The Beatles music playing loudly in the station house adds to the ambiance. Ironically this music seems old fashioned too although in context the Beatles are not exactly antiquarian.
I turn D loose with his camera. He is especially taken by the semi-feral cat in the door of the café. The cat’s fur is matted and he looks unkempt so D feel sorry for him. I explain that this does not mean the cat is necessarily neglected. Proof arrives as a woman walks by, opens a can of cat food into a dish outside the café and then walks on. The cat and pigeons appreciate the food. D tells me the cat is related to our cat at home because he cleans himself like ours does.
Today we buy Legoes at a toy store. Not exactly the quintessential Italian souvenir but I too think Lego Bionicles are toys worth having especially if it buys a happy child for a few moments. I take a photo of an interesting shop window. It commemorates the on-going World Cup with soccer balls and shoes entirely in chocolate. The photo does not do justice to the window (or the chocolate).
For lunch we meet our friends who spend their mornings studying Italian while we loll about. We eat at a local pizzeria (run by Brazilians). This year they are understandably proud of their new air-conditioning. This is a rarity in Lucca and makes the pizza go down a lot more easily on a hot afternoon.
After lunch a brief swing into the Anfiteatro for a gelato. Local gelato is as good as reputation would have it. My favorites are frutti di bosco (literally wood fruit–actually mixed berries) and fragola (strawberry). The kids love chocolate. Mint is D’s current favorite.
The afternoon entails a return to Marlia. The kids head directly to the pool. One recent afternoon I hiked into the hills above the Azienda. This is a longer hike than I had anticipated. There are some tempting small towns up the hill and I have been wishing to see the church attached to the tower I can see from our house. The roads are unbelievably winding and I never did arrive at the tower in question. After multiple switch backs I arrived at a different church in a different small town.
A foreigner hiking up these hills must be quite a sight. I felt that everyone is staring at me wondering what I am up to. It was hard to take pictures for the same reason. The Tuscan stone farm houses are striking to my eye but I had trouble doing them justice with my untutored photography skills. I was also shy about photographing someone’s house in too obvious a manner.
One older gentleman who was putting chemicals on his grape vines tried to strike up a conversation. He might have been asking where I was coming from and I tell him I am from the Azienda. In retrospect he was probably asking which country I am from. He seemed to think I am either German, British or Dutch. It mystified me that anyone could believe I am Dutch. With my dark skin, hair and eyes, I look more stereotypically Mediterranean than the fair colored Tuscans. I think American hikers are less common around here. I don’t know if I managed to convince him that I am from the United States. We part in mutual, amicable confusion. I wish I had better Italian language skills and more understanding of the local etiquette. As on many days, that one ended with hungry children demanding why I had not returned hours ago to feed them.
Ciao.

Back to school week

Sometimes it is a little hard to say good-bye to summer and vacation. Even though I am no longer in school myself, 32 years of continuous education are hard to let go of. I find myself envying teachers who still get the summers off (even if they pay for it financially). I am launching two children into back-to-school mode tomorrow complete with new pencil boxes, backpacks and spiral notebooks. It is a bonding experience to be in office supply stores the night before school starts with all the other worn-out looking parents.
This summer, as my Blog and pictures attest, I have been in two foreign countries, and three states besides the one I live in. Sometimes the contrasts were dramatic. The Pacific Northwest Coast is a far cry from Las Vegas and the national parks of Utah. So you might ask, am I sufficiently spoiled to wish I didn't have to go back to work and the routine chores of getting two children off to school, after school activities and monitoring homework? The answer must be, yes! It is not just a fear of work after all. It is maybe even more a fear of winter. Yes, winter hits hard and fast here in the midwest and lasts far too long. Sometimes I think I can feel my mood sink as fast as the sun starts setting on the shortened days.
Well, seasonal affective disorder keeps me in business winters. As does school phobia, bullying, shyness, short attention spans, anxiety and other symptoms of the back to school season. Two wishes I have in my clinical practice are: (1) Insurance companies would pay for winter trips to the Carribean for people with documented seasonal affective disorder. (2) School could be a kinder, gentler place for children. Yes, I might be a bit less busy at work but wouldn't we all be a little bit happier?
Now back to household obligations. . . .