Sunday, May 25
Three day weekends are wonderful but sometimes spin me a little. Especially when you work on Saturday. When you’re not used to working 6 days a week, you get a little thrown. At least, I do.
Of course the one nice day of the weekend was the day I had to work. I’m a little bitter about that, but such is life, really. Not to say that life is all disappointments, but, mostly so – the trick is to learn to try to still be glad in the midst of so many disappointments. Then, when the good moments and things emerge from the pools of disappointments, well, we are supposed to appreciate them all the more. Still, it sucks that I was stuck indoors on Saturday.
Anyway. I wasn’t motivated to leave the house today. I kept my pajamas on all day. And sometimes you really need days like that. It was dark, cloudy, rainy and crappy out. So, I cooked a brown organic egg over easy and placed it over a gluten-free biscuit with a large piece of fresh, organic basil. I had a glass of organic orange juice.
I stripped the bed and sorted my laundy, put the first load in, then went back downstairs to make a cup of Elixir Buddha creativity tea. I lit some candles, put in a Peter Gabriel CD and got to work on some writing. I was asked by a colleague to write a story about Celiac disease and wine. I found a couple of reports that suggested glutinous agents are used in the clarification process, and some barrels are hinged with a flour-water paste that contains gluten. The debate is whether or not the levels of gluten from these processes put those with Celiac disease at risk. Most of the studies suggest the levels are so low that it wouldn’t impart any real risk. In general, those suffering from Celiac disease should get in the habit of calling food and beverage producers to ask the important questions. I, myself, haven’t reacted to wine yet. But it’s always good to be aware of the potential cross contaminations.
After I finished writing my first draft, I went upstairs to check the laundry and to make my bed. I then turned on the television and the movie The Cider House Rules had just started. It’s a moving adaption of John Irving’s novel about a compassionate young man, Homer Wells (Tobey Maguire), raised in an orphanage and trained to be a doctor there by Dr. Wilbur Larch (Michael Caine), decides to leave to see the world. Anyway, it’s a wonderful story, Tobey Maguire is delightful and I more than once got teary-eyed.
While I finished folding laundry and getting through all of the loads, I worked on some poetry and organized some other writing. After some gluten-free lasagna, the 1996 made-for-tv movie In Cold Blood , based on Truman Capote’s incredible narrative non-fiction masterpiece, came on. It starred Anthony Edwards as Dick Hickock, Erik Roberts as Perry Smith, and Sam Neill as Agent Alvin Dewey. It didn’t compare to the 1960′s classic original starring Robert Blake. And, as far as I’m concerned, Capote, which earned Philip Seymour Hoffman an Oscar, is the most riveting take on this historical massacre.
When the movie was over, an infomercial came on for a 1970′s/1980′s classic soft rock collection. I started making lists of some of the songs I liked and created a new playlist. Some of the songs were cheesy, some were serious classics, but in general, most of them brought back memories. Titles included: Show Me the Way (Peter Frampton); Waiting for a Girl Like You (Foreigner); These Dreams (Heart); Into the Night (Benny Mardones); A Horse with No Name (America); Longer (Dan Fogelberg); How Long (Ace); I Go Crazy (Paul Davis); Somebody’s Baby (Jackson Browne), and so on. I knew many of the songs but not the artists – go figure! I made a note to forward this list to my sister and my cousin, Kathryn. Many of these songs made me think of our childhood together.
It was already after midnight when a PBS progam came on about travelling through Scotland. I was mesmerized. It’s now on my list of places to visit. A highlight was a story about a woman who takes a small paddle boat out to an island on some loch and plays her fiddle for the seals, overjoyed when familiar heads emerge from the water’s surface showing glossy, big eyes and whiskers. This inspired me – I thought about writing a story about an old widow on the Oregon coast during the 1950′s who lost her husband in the Great War, and played her fiddle for the sealions at Coos Bay. I’ll have to develop that one.
This quiet weekend in inspired a lot of writing, so, something good emerged from a disappointing day of unpleasant weather.
