Sweet Dreams are Made of This: Elegy on Lost Loves, Part 2

Gentle readers of any persuasion, I present to you the most perfect cookie in the world: Petite Ecolier by Lu!!!!

The bottom portion is a perfectly formed butter biscuit in the European tradition. Just sweet enough to count as a dessert, but not gooey or too sweet like so many American cookies. And on top of that perfectly formed butter biscuit sits a slab of chocolate, embossed with the portrait of a schoolboy from an earlier century. They make a milk chocolate version, but I prefer the dark chocolate Noir version with 45% cocoa.

My favorite way to eat them was to nibble a small bite, feeling the snap of the crisp butter biscuit, and letting the cookie and chocolate melt and blend together before a small mash (I wouldn't call it chewing really) prior to swallowing.  All of the flavor is released the moment the chocolate reaches the liquid point, so letting the cookie melt in the mouth is the only way to experience its greatness.

Le sigh!

Captain! I Don't Know How Much More the Ship Can Take!

Eleven years and twenty days ago, my mother passed away from complications associated with stage-IV ovarian cancer. For the five years preceding her death, my siblings and I faced a constant string of challenges    concerning her care and quality of life.

The seemingly endless undercurrent of stress cut through my life in a unique way, affecting my ability to do my full-time job and then my home schooling responsibilities, and my communication and relationship with my husband and children. It was the first time I found myself in the role of child and caregiver. At the time, I didn't know how I was going to make it through the maze of sorting out the constantly changing details of her care and finances, and the completely unchanging fact that she had terminal cancer unless God intervened in a miraculous way. I muddled through, doing what I could and feeling guilty for everything I didn't do, whether I could actually have performed the task at hand or not.

Now, so many years later, I find that my mother's illness and death were just the beginning of the learning curve for me. In the past four years, I have picked up two other parents, my mother-in-law and stepfather-in-law, as people to whom I am required to give some level of care and attention on a weekly, if not daily, basis. I was managing, mostly, to do an adequate job there and still keep up with my own chosen/homegrown family of husband and two boys. Though, if you ask those I live with, the stress was showing in my fatigue and "stress temper."

This past month, I have accelerated into full overload, and this time, it's not a case of how I am going to make it through, but IF.

My uncle who live 10 hours away by car, through a series of unfortunate events, years of semi-care by medical professionals, and lack of ability for us to be more present fixtures in his life, arrived in front of death's door one Tuesday in late August. We headed out to see what we could do, preparing for the worst. I wrote a rough draft obituary on the plane. The doctors didn't offer much hope and encouraged us to follow his wishes on his medical directive to remove him from life support. Yet, as this was happening, he grew in strength every day, though at a minimal level. We decided to give him a fighting chance.

After a little over three weeks in ICU, he has transferred to another section of the hospital to a lower level of care. But, he still isn't entirely out of danger. He just isn't on life support any more. Every minute of every day, no matter what else is happening, I can't pretend that I don't know his recovery hangs in the balance and that I, as one of the agents on his Medical Power of Attorney and the primary contact for the hospital because I am able to answer my phone during more hours of the day, am somehow tied to this event in an inescapable way.

The stress is having its way with me. My life is different now, much more full, than it was sixteen years ago when we went through a similar journey with my mother. I don't want to whine. No one is shooting at me. My nation isn't in the midst of a violent revolution. I can go to church or not as I please. I have enough money to go to the grocery store and buy what I want from the myriad of choices in each department. But that's all rationality talking there. Stress gets in where the mind fails. It attacks on a deep emotional, physical, and spiritual level.

The usual cures for stress aren't working. Rest: sure, if I can escape the horrific dreams. Exercise: sure, except I've been sick and slightly feverish since returning from the five-day trip to see him in the hospital and direct his care. Diet: sure, when I feel up to eating, which when the hospital calls as I'm cooking dinner seems to ruin my appetite for the evening. Talking to family and friends: sure, and this one has helped a bit, except when people need to hear enough of the story to understand my uncle's plight and then I just don't want to go into all the details again because it sets my heart racing. Finding time for myself: sure, except the older folks in my care have a crisis and there is no one else to help. I can't just let them suffer. Taking it one day at a time: sure, except that rationale only keeps from adding more stress; it doesn't alleviate the stress already bubbling under the surface.

I have hope for many things but it is hard to hold on to.

It's been just under a month, and I am already done in. I don't think I can survive five more years like this.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This: Elegy on Lost Loves

Hot. Fluffy on the inside. Crispy on the outside, especially around the hole, Just the right amount of sweetness in the yeasty dough mixing with the warm taste of clean oil. Fresh from the fryer and rolled in granulated sugar. Melting in my mouth with goodness. The umami reaction of satisfaction merging with the sweet sugar. The smells of the doughnut shop: batter, oil, sugar, fruit fillings, cream, coffee. The knowing how wonderful that first bite is going to be even before I turn off the car and enter through the door.

I dreamed of doughnuts for the whole first month I became gluten free. I haven't dreamed of them for quite a while now, but last weekend, Mr. Saurus made a stop by Golden Donuts in Azle on the way to other errands. I took one step inside the store and came to a complete stop. I haven't been in a doughnut shop for years, and instantly I was transported back to my old life.

I have always loved donuts, even as a child. In grade school my mexi-american classmates would tease me about my name, calling me doughnut. I didn't mind so much. Doughnuts are wonderful things, and if they want to give me the name of a wonderful thing, I'd take it. My dad used to occasionally make doughnuts by dropping canned biscuits into hot oil. Despite their humble origins, I'd eat those just as readily as the shop-made kind.

My last meal, if I ever were to find myself in that situation, would be a plate of HOT doughnuts, just out of the fryer and rolled in granulated sugar, delivered approximately 4 hours before I was scheduled to depart this material world. I would get to experience one of the world's most glorious creations as my last memory, and by 4 hours, the migraine would be so bad that I would see death as a relief.

This weekend when the Mr. wanted to stop by Golden Donuts I agreed to come along for the ride, but decided not to go in. The loss is still too fresh and the longing too strong. I was sad after last week, actually sorrowful. I didn't realize until then how much I still loved and missed these simple fried breads. I have been sad all week.

I miss you, Doughnuts.

Why the Changes to Sy-Fy's Show Alphas Make it Unpalatable to Me, or Alphas, You Suck Now!

Alphas is a television series that began last year on the Sy-Fy network. I enjoyed watching it then, but the changes they have incorporated in this new season are enough to turn me off the series.

In sum, Alphas tells the story of a group of humans with superhuman skills, kind of like X-men only without the comic book background or cool costumes. The team is led by  Dr. Rosen (David Strathairn), a normal human psychologist, and comprises Nina (Laura Mennell) , a telepathic woman of the world who can push people to do her bidding, Bill (Malik Yoba), a former FBI agent capable of short bursts of superhuman speed and strength, Rachel (Azita Ghanizada) who has super senses (taste, touch, hearing, smell, sight), Cameron  (Warren Christie), a fellow with extraordinary reflexes and coordination, and Gary (Ryan Cartwright), an autistic young man who can tap into electromagnetic pulses, meaning he can listen into phone calls and tap into video feeds.

The plot centers around the team of good Alphas looking for rogue Alphas who are causing trouble and using their powers either for personal gain or to take revenge on normals. Last year the character Stanton Parish was introduced as an Alpha dating back from the civil war who has decided, a la Magneto, that the world would be better off if the Alphas were in charge, so death to all normals and other Alphas who stand in his way. Also last year the plot of the government rounding up Alphas and putting them in an institution against their will came to a head when both the leader of the team, Dr. Rosen, and Gary, the autistic, were put Farmington, the prison/asylum. Dr. Rosen was just a prisoner while Gary was forced to undergo the electronic lobotomizing the violent Alphas faced.

Okay, so far the series sound great, right? Action, suspense, intrigue, special effects, characterization--all these elements made the show enjoyable and quite watchable. This year, however, they have taken the show into edgier territory that just makes it not that fun for me anymore.

First off, I don't need to see a 1 1/2 minute simulated sex scene to know that Alphas have great sex. Fifteen seconds would have gotten the message across just fine. Second, Gary's character has become totally manic now, yelling at people, pushing other people around physically, and just being out of control. Mr. Saurus says that he can buy that characterization because Gary hasn't recovered from being in the institution. His schedule is out of whack, therefore his world is in serious disarray and he cannot help but react outrageously to even the simplest of disturbances. Maybe so, but all I see is scenery chewing, and not the fun kind like Alan Rickman in Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves.

Another element added this season is Dr. Rosen's daughter who is playing double or triple agent by working for Magneto/Stanton Parish, sleeping with Cameron the coordinated guy, and trying to get info from her father to feed back to Parish. Whether she is acting out of sympathy to Parish's cause or serving as a double agent is unclear. All it seems like is an unnecessary plot complication.

Finally, the thing that pushed me over the edge and caused me to leave the room and not watch anymore episodes, in the second episode of the season, the one with the overdone love scene, Nina's character pushes a witness to tell the truth, specifically to tell all the things she's hiding from them. Most of it is okay, as she lists minor deceptions and foibles. But then, after the interrogation seems over and everyone looks away from the witness, Dr. Rosen opens his mouth to move the conversation and exposition forward. Out of the blue, inserted into the show in a very prominent way, the witness blurts out that she pleasures herself every morning after her husband leaves for work. All the characters on the screen do a double take, mirroring my reaction exactly. The characters then move on to the next dilemma and the scene isn't referred to again.

So why am I "over"reacting to this one line of dialogue? Well, the episode starts out with the extended lovemaking scene, so I know we are into new territory, and I guess I put up my guard, wondering what else the show had in store for me. Then, Gary, the autistic young man, starts screaming and flailing around, adding to my discomfort and causing me to question the director's choices. Last, at least the last I saw of this episode, comes this line of dialogue that is introduced in such a way as to cause a great deal of attention to be paid to it. It's like the show writers and director is saying, "Yeah, we're about real life man, edgy and tough and in your face!!!!!"

I like edgy shows sometimes, and I don't mind when characters change and grow on shows, but this new season of Alphas is like the producers said, "Let's compete with HBO" or some other cable giant with raw, adult original programming. I don't like those shows, and as Alphas morphs into that kind of programming, it leaves me behind. One cannot argue with the rating success of those more adult shows, I don't expect Sy-Fy to change its plans for me. I just choose to change the channel when Alphas comes on.

Whose got my spectacles?

Okay, I didn't watch the opening ceremonies of the 2012 Olympics when they were broadcast. We had a house guest and were too busy playing Zombie Dice to turn on the television. But, I heard through Facebook other people's reactions.

So as not to be left out, I went internet searching and found lots of footage. Oh my! The Grandeur, The Spectacle, The Weirdness. The We Are Not To Be Outdone By Beijing and We Can Create Spectacle With MEANING!!!!!!

Was it just National Pride run amok? Was it some kind of insatiable craving for spectacle and symbolism that had to be acted out by a cast and crew of thousands?

To me, it is almost as if the Opening Ceremonies now have to top the experience of the almost unbelievable athletic performances of the games themselves. The actual efforts and agonies of these athletes who have trained for years to get where they are is a human spectacle of the best kind. People putting it out there at one moment for a shot at winning for themselves and their country. There's a poignancy to the rise and fall of expectations and performance that makes the Olympics unique and special.

All the balloon bad guys and bed-bouncing actors in the world cannot match the very real human drama of the runner who is forcing his body to sprint despite the pain or the tumbler who lands on her head and then has to get up and do the routine again despite the little canaries flying around her noggin.

I understand the Opening Ceremonies provide a showcase of sorts for a nation to say, "See, we really are great and have done things of lasting value." I also understand that the Opening Ceremonies offer a platform for the current important social issues to be presented symbolically. I just find it all too much, too over the top, too in your face with our greatness.

Humans like to compete for attention, affection, prestige, and honor. That's what the games are about, and I guess the opening ceremonies are no different. I just find all the hoopla outlandish and unnecessary for the enjoyment of the athletic performances to come.

Wind it up!

What a lovely phrase, "Wind it up!" I immediately think of crank-start automobiles, Victrolas with 78 rpm records, golden clocks ticking away on mantels, sandals straps winding their way up a Roman's leg (wait, I may have gone too far there.)

But it's also quite a modern phrase. Let's get the party started. Let's kick things off. Crank up the energy. And in the sexual sense, well, I'll let your imagination fill in the image.

In the context of this blog, Wind it Up serves as a my call to action. I am going to write on Books, Movies, Television, Dance, Current Events, Kittens, Teaching, Home schooling, Faith, Philosophy, and anything I can think of.  Maybe it'll just be all the stuff that winds me up in good ways and bad.

I'm gathering ideas and titles from my everyday life experiences. When they arrive, maybe the readers will gather here as well.  Until then, I'm off to have some of those experiences.

Wind it Up!