Note: There are some spoilers in this article. So if you plan on seeing the movie you might not want to read this.

A couple of nights ago my sweetie and I went to see the new Star Trek movie, Star Trek Zero (STZ). This movie did not pass what I call “The Cynthia Butt Test.” Let me explain: if, while watching a movie I start to fidget in my seat and am aware of my butt falling asleep or feeling uncomfortable, it is because the movie is not holding my interest. If I go through a whole movie without being aware of said butt, then I know that the movie is a winner. I started to be aware of my butt 15 minutes into this movie.

Let me start by out by saying that being a teenager in the 60’s, I, like millions of others, fell in love with the series and characters that inhabited The Starship Enterprise. Most of us that enjoy Start Trek have seen all the episodes multiple times and have an understanding of the history of the characters, their personalities, their moral and ethical views, what makes them tick, what their strong points and weaknesses are, the role that their bonds of friendship and loyalties toward each other play in how they relate to each other, and let us not overlook the ever-important role that their mission plays – we were reminded of it at the opening of each and every episode.

So, having established that there is history here, the new STZ takes all of that and throws it out the Enterprise’s window (or porthole). The writers (Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman) show a total lack of integrity and imagination. I say this because a writer with integrity and imagination would have taken the time to do their homework and understand who the characters were, their history and the history of the Star Trek series, and within that framework, have come up with a plot that was faithful to that already established history and character development. Hey, this isn’t a new concept. Many writers take established characters like Sherlock Holmes or Nero Wolfe, and many other such well-known and loved fictional characters and write new stories and adventures that are imaginative, but true to the storyline and respectful of the established history and characterization that the original author has given his creation. STZ does none of that. It uses each and every one of the original characters and trashes them. The characterization in this movie of all the crew of the Starship Enterprise are at best caricatures, and not even good caricatures, or in many cases they are silly and cartoonish and unbelievable (see Doc Apple’s Cultural Corner article on this movie: Star Trek Zero – a Big Zero for Star Trek. In his article he does a great job of pointing out some specifics about plot and character faux pas with which this movie is replete).

I guess the writers must have thought that it was okay to turn Spock into a horny, emotionally, out of control and illogical Vulcan (what the hell is that about?), destroy the planet Vulcan (untrue in the series), turning Uhura into a sex object that both Kirk and Spock have the hots for (again, what the hell is that about?), making Kirk a jerk (guess they thought that just because those two words rhyme it was an okay idea), killing Spock’s mother (so who the hell is the Earth woman who appears in all those episodes as Spock’s mom?), having Chekov not be 5 years old (he was about 17 in the original series when the other characters are in their 30’s), making Scotty appear as a boob instead of the accomplished engineer he is supposed to be, and the list goes on and on and on.

This movie’s writing is so bad it is not even internally consistent. By that I mean that even if you take it as a stand-alone story and disregard your expectation that it should stay true to the original series, the movie isn’t even true to itself. In order for the movie to at least make any sense, the writers should have done what they promised when the old Spock in the movie tells Kirk that he can fix the timeline, and done so. If they had at the end of the movie had the Enterprise return to the beginning of the movie and the birth of Kirk, at least they would have redeemed some of the plot. Instead, they don’t even do that.

There are so many things that are wrong with this movie that it would take a book to point them all out. This movie totally failed The Cynthia Butt Test. What a pity and a missed opportunity. Going back to when these characters were young and starting out could have been such a good story. What a shame that the writers were too lazy and incompetent to do the story and the characters justice.

I love it when I find a movie that is so fun that it is like a little jewel to be treasured. The type of movie I’m talking about is rarely one that made it big in the box office, or even one that most people have ever heard of. They are the type of movie that we trip across, usually by sheer luck.

Cold Comfort Farm
One such movie that I relatively recently discovered is “Cold Comfort Farm.” It is a 1995 BBC film made for TV and has a star studded cast, which includes Kate Beckinsale (too many movies to mention), Joanna Lumley (Absolutely Fabulous), Rufus Sewell (of the present Eleventh Hour, TV series fame), Ian McKellen (Lord of the Rings) and Eileen Atkins.

The movie is hilarious and just plain fun. The hook description on the cover of the movie’s box says “She discovered a new branch of her family tree . . . the one with all the nuts.” And I must say that it is a very apt, succinct and delightful description of this movie. If your local blockbuster doesn’t have it, I hope you belong to Netflix and can put it at the top of your queue because it is a gem of a movie.

Songcatcher
The story takes place in 1907, and the protagonist (Janet McTeer, and also staring Aidan Quinn) is a woman who is a university music professor who is passed up for promotion because she is a woman. Upset, she resigns and goes to live with her sister who lives and teaches in Appalachia. There, she discovers that the locals have a rich tradition of songs that have been passed from one generation to the next and which are in danger of being lost unless they are recorded. This movie has several sub-plots and rich characters that will win your heart. It is a story about love, passion, women’s rights, sexual discrimination, and so much more. It is a movie that you will remember long after the credits have finished rolling. And no, I don’t think it is a “chick flick, since my sweetie also loved it.

• The robins are back. But since the ground is still frozen they have to scrounge around for food because they would get beak bleeds if they tried to “dig” for worms. Therefore, they eat stuff like leftover berries on ornamental fruit trees which have fermented over the winter. The result of this is that we have a lot of intoxicated robins, which fly in erratic patterns and instead of singing their usual birdie songs they sort of produce a hickupy warble as they fly into walls and windows.

• Another sign of spring is that pretty much like clockwork, on the first of March the skunks come out of hibernation. You know this by the number of skunk carcasses littering the roads. They are groggy after their hibernation and slower moving than normal. Plus, not being the brightest of critters they have forgotten the whole “cars on roads” thing and therefore there are a larger number than usual of their dead bodies littering the road and perfuming the air.

• Teenagers start wearing shorts and tee-shirts when it hits 40 degrees. I’m talking teenagers here, so don’t assume heavy brainpower at work or functioning internal temperature gauges. Teenagers are powered by hormones and what they think is the “cool” thing to do. Apparently freezing parts of their anatomy is a small price to pay if it means an increase in their perceived coolness factor. Don’t ask me to understand or explain it. My mind can’t go there. I am only reporting what I see.

• Grass is again visible after being buried for three straight months. Well, I call it grass. It is actually this weird gray and brown stuff that has patches of straw-colored crap that is called winter mold and that apparently, according to my lawn service, I am supposed to rake out of it. Like I don’t have a life and nothing better to do with my time.

• Dry cleaners are busy with the whole Michigan population taking their winter coats to get cleaned before storing them away for the warm weather months. Of course, we usually get a surprise blizzard sometime in late April and have to drag the darned things out again. This ritual is a sign that we Michiganders are either slow learners or the eternal optimists. I’m going with the optimist version.

• We all get colds or sinus infections. The reason for this is simple. Our bodies have no clue what to do with going from temperatures ranging from 70 to 30 to 40 to 60 to 20 to 15 to 65 degrees – all in the course of one week, and sometimes in one day. When you start out the day in a coat and end up in short sleeves by afternoon and then back to a coat by evening, your immune system sort of goes on strike and says: “Ok, what’s the deal here. There is just so much I can deal with, so I’m going on strike and you lose.”

But don’t get me wrong. Us Michiganders love our state and we are a strange and hardy lot. We may grouse about the weather and all the good and bad things that go along with it, and by March we are all sick and tired of the cold and the snow and we look forward to feeling the sun on our faces and not having to pack on five layers of clothing just to walk to our mailboxes. But if truth be told, we love the change of seasons. In spring we look forward to warm breezes and sunny days, but by October we are tired of mowing the lawn and the hot weather and feel revitalized when we start getting that chill in the air, and we actually look forward to sweater-weather and the thought cooking a hot batch of chili or a slow cooking roast in the oven.

I am not a computer whiz. I am pretty versed on navigating and using word processing programs and Microsoft Office. But when it comes to the computer’s guts and what makes the darned things work, well, there we are getting into a whole new story, and this is where the arg factor of the whole computer thing comes into play.

My troubleshooting computer malfunctions and glitches ability has a very limited repertoire of options. In fact, it pretty much consists of unplugging and re-plugging devises, and/or shutting down and restarting my computer. Beyond that I am powerless and clueless. Please note that I am not the exception to the rule when it comes to computer know-how, but that rather, I am pretty much the rule. I however, unlike the majority of people who may find themselves in this dilemma, am a very fortunate person because I have a friend who is a computer genius, and when I or my sweetie run into real problems that can’t be solved by an e-mail or phone-guided troubleshooting step-by-step “now do this, and then do this” coaching conversation with this computer genius, he is unbelievably sweet enough to make a house call and help us – a busman’s holiday for him because that is what he does for a living all day at work.

So, I have to ask myself, what does the average person who doesn’t have a computer genius for a friend do? Throw the damned thing out the window? hope that it will get better on its own? or take the computer into a store and hope there is someone who can help them? I imagine that whatever the answer to that question is, there must, by default, be a lot of cursing involved.

So, I ask myself, why can’t they, or why don’t they make a computer that doesn’t decide to stop functioning properly at random. Oh yes, it isn’t that the user does anything that causes the malfunction. I have had countless occasions when I have been happily working along doing something that I have done dozens or hundreds of times before, but for whatever inexplicable reason that particular time it causes my computer to give me a message that goes something like: “YOU HAVE COMMITTED A FATAL ERROR AND NOW THE COMPUTER NEEDS TO SHUT THE PROGRAM DOWN. WHATEVER WORK IN PROGRESS YOU HAVE BEEN SLAVING OVER FOR THE PAST TWO HOURS IS IRRETRIEVABLY LOST. YOU ARE SCREWED AND UNLESS YOU ARE A COMPUTER GENIUS YOU MIGHT AS WELL RESIGN YOURSELF TO THE FACT THAT YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX THIS PROBLEM – EVER.” Ok, perhaps the wording is a bit different, but for all intent and purposes I am not really stretching the point. This is a terrifying and totally underserved thing to be confronted with on your own computer screen. I mean, through no fault of your own your computer arbitrarily decides to go on strike and make your life a living hell for an indefinite future.

How do the people that make computers and computer programs get away with this? How and why do they make a product that is prone to melting down at random? and why do we, the user, put up with this and continue to encourage them to sell a product that is obviously still in the experimental stage? Why do we tolerate and not rebel at the obscure language and gobbledygook that is the computer lingo. I mean we go along with things like going to the “start” icon or button or whatever it is called, as the go-to place to turn our computer off. For the love of god! what would be so wrong with calling it the “OFF” button.

The thing is, computers are really still such a mystery to us all that we simply accept that this is the state of affairs. We, the consumer, pay them (the computer and software manufacturers) to be used as guinea pigs in the experiment in progress that is the modern day computer. We make the assumption that if a computer malfunctions and we don’t know how to fix the malfunction, that it is not the fault of the company that built the computer or the software that screwed up by making the darned thing impossible to figure out by mere mortals in the first place. We simply put up with this insane state of affairs and meekly go along with it and blame ourselves for not being more computer savvy. What we should really be asking is why they don’t make computers easier for the average computer user to figure out and why they don’t use language in their manuals that is actually understandable. I mean really… have you ever gone to a manual or to the help button on your computer and tried to figure out what the hell they are talking about? I mean, really! whenever I’ve tried to look in one of these sources I realize that I don’t even know what the heck the question is. Let’s be real here, you have to actually know what the problem is before you can ask the question of how to fix the problem, and if you knew what the problem was in the first place you probably wouldn’t have to be asking the question.

Ok, that was exhausting. But I think that by now you get my point. Computers are “a pain in the you know what,” and unfortunately are one of those things that fall into the category of life problems that we are all confronted with, a dilemma of having to live with it because we no longer can live without it.

Happy computing!

This shawl made with an entrelac stitch turned out gorgeous. The pattern I sort of used (I say sort of because I didn’t follow the pattern the way it was written) was from Jojoland, desiged by Lijuan Jing, but, as usual, I made some changes to the original pattern that suited my taste better. The yarn is Jojoland’s Rhythm, color 09. It is a self-stripping yarn that makes for a beautiful effect with the entrelac pattern.

The original pattern called for 10 balls, but the shawl actually took 12. So beware. If you have knitted an entrelac pattern before and are familiar with the technique to achieve this entrelac/trellis effect, then you probably won’t have trouble with the pattern the way it is written. However, if like me, you had never before ventured into the land of entrelac, the pattern did nothing to enlighten me or allow me to knit this shawl. Faced with this dilemma, and having made the investment in the yarn and the pattern, and really wanting to actually knit the thing, I went on a hunting expedition to see if I could find better instructions on how to master this knitting technique. I hunted through my books and in the “Knitter’s Bible” by Claire Crompton I found some instructions that were more friendly, but I was still not able to quite wrap my head around how to do the thing. So, I went looking on The Net and found a wonderful blog that had step-by-step instructions with pictures of every step along the way. That did the trick. The blog with these fabulous instructions on how to do entrelac is a blog called KnittyOtter, which you can reach at:

knittyotter.typepad.com/

Her instructions are great. To make the shawl is a little different than to make a rectangle (which a scarf is). This particular shawl is a triangle. The way you accomplish this is by not doing the side triangles as you would to make a scarf, instead you are binding off the last square on each side so that you eventually end up with one square, thus, forming a triangular shawl. This shawl is not a project for a beginner. In fact, I am an experienced knitter and it took me quite a while of fooling around with the instructions until I figured out what I was doing. Once I figured it out though, it really was a piece of cake. It is the initial trying to wrap your head around the whole doing one square at a time and then picking up stitches on the side of that square and then working that until the next one that is complicated at first but then becomes second nature. I know, I know, what I just wrote makes no sense if you are not familiar with the technique. And I am not even going to try to explain the technique here since the KnittyOtter site does such a great job of doing it, so I am not going to attempt to reinvent a wheel that is already rolling.

The other thing that I did totally different from what the Jojoland pattern called for is that the pattern calls for knitting the ribbing separately and then attaching it to the shawl. The only reason for this is that they have these goofy loops on the bottom of the ribbing. Frankly those loops seem like knob catchers to me. I could see myself getting caught on anything and everything, that plus the whole idea of knitting the ribbing separate and then doing a whole attaching it to the body of the shawl by sewing it was totally not appealing. Instead, I used a 60 inch circular Audi needle and picked up stitches at the edge of the shawl and proceeded to do the ribbing. It is a much easier way of doing things and I didn’t want the annoying loops on the bottom anyway.

So, my finished product, in fact, turned out gorgeous and with less fuzz than the pattern called for. I purchased both the pattern and the yarn from “Webs” http://www.webs.com/

Webs is a great site for yarn and other knitting supplies. They also have a paper catalogue that they send out every so often, plus if you sign up for their e-mails they keep you posted on their sales and new yarns, etc.

Happy knitting and I hope that my comments, tips and photos here are of help.

Some weeks ago a couple of friends and I had a girl’s night in, and one of the things I made for the occasion was my version of Butternut Squash Soup. They loved it and Cheryl, one of my buddies, asked me to post the recipe on my blog.

EQUIPMENT NOTE
The Perfect Marriage – Soup and immersion blender

I love soups and make them often. One of the tools that I find indispensible for soup making is my immersion blender. Yes, you can use a regular blender or a food processor, but it is time consuming, messy and a pain to ladle the soup into a blender or food processor and then blend it in batches. An immersion blender makes the task a breeze with no mess or fuss. So, if you make lots of soups and sauces like I do, it is worth the investment. They are not that expensive and they are a great multi-tasker. I also use it to blend the veggies and drippings to make a fabulous sauce when I make roasts or roast chicken. I think you will find yourself using your immersion blender for a lot of things besides soups.

BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP

INGREDIENTS

About 4 cups cubed butternut squash – Carefully peel and then dispose of any seeds and then cube into about 2 inch cubes. (about 2 medium or one large butternut squashes)
1 diced onion – can be rough diced because all this will be blended after the soup is cooked
2 diced carrots – peel and rough dice
2 diced celery ribs
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (EVOO)
2 Tablespoons apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons maple syrup
6 cups chicken broth
A few crushed dried sage leaves, or if available, 1 tsp. fresh sage chopped very fine
Salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
2 Tablespoons orange juice or the juice of one orange. I usually add about 2 tablespoons when I’m cooking the soup and then squeeze some juice right before serving the soup to add some freshness to the flavors
Zest of one orange
Serve with a dollop of sour cream. It adds creaminess, freshness and looks great.

PREPARATION

Steam the butternut squash until fork tender. Drain. Then in same pot, sauté onions, celery and carrots in the EVOO for a couple of minutes until tender. Add the orange zest, and sage first to release their flavor, just for a few seconds, then add the vinegar, orange juice, maple syrup, and chicken stock.

Season with salt and pepper. Remember to always under-season when you first add them and taste for flavor later on. You can always add more but if you add too much to start with you can ruin whatever it is you are cooking. Cover and cook on low for 15 to 30 minutes – you can’t really harm it if you cook it longer.

If you have an immersion blender, blend the soup until smooth, If you don’t have an immersion blender use a regular blender and blend in batches, but be careful not to fill to top as it can “explode” all over you and burn you when you blend hot foods. You can also use a food processor. Check seasoning and adjust accordingly. I like to serve with a squirt of orange juice and a dollop of sour cream.

NOTE: This soup freezes beautifully.  So if you have leftovers freeze for a rainy or snowy day.

My mother’s purchasing prowess has been a major contributor to this country’s past economic well-being.  She has been known to spend hundreds on seemingly frivolous trinkets and justify it with her stock statement of “I’m worth it.”  But there is one, seemingly, insignificant item where she draws the line – sweet gherkin pickles.  I noticed this anomaly many years ago when I discovered a pattern whenever she came over to my home to visit.  Shortly after saying her hello’s she would stick her head inside my refrigerator and not emerge until she had found the jar of sweet gherkin pickles that habitually lived there.  Throughout the course of her visit she would munch on them until they were gone. 

This went on for years until finally, I could no longer resist the mystery, and during one such visit asked her: “mother, what’s with the pickles?”
They’re too expensive,” she replied.  “I just won’t pay $2.69 for a small jar of pickles.  But I love them.  I know you always have some, so I have a treat to look forward to whenever I come over to your house.”
From anyone else this sort of logic would seem very strange, but from my mother, well, let’s just say that the lady is different, charming, but different.

The Christmas after discovering the answer to the pickle mystery I gave my mother five jars of sweet gherkins as a stocking-stuffer present, meant both as a joke and as a treat I knew she would enjoy.  When she opened the present, my mother, predictably laughed and thanked me profusely for the pickles.  Later on, my grandmother approached my mother and with total indignation said, “I can’t believe your own daughter would give you a present as insulting as jars of pickles for Christmas.  What’s wrong with her?  And how could you carry-on, acting as if you really thought that was a nice present.  You should have told her off . . . to insult her own mother that way.  I can’t believe it, my own granddaughter.”

My mother tried for a long time to explain to my grandmother why this really was a present that met with her approval, and which she thought was not only funny, but also a thoughtful treat.  But try as she might, all explanations were met with a deaf ear, and my grandmother didn’t believe her.  Guess that my grandmother couldn’t believe that a woman known for her spending extravagance wouldn’t spring for a jar of pickles. 

To this day my mother still raids my refrigerator in search for sweet gherkins whenever she comes over.  And I still, some Christmases give her a jar or two of pickles as stocking-stuffer treats.  And every Christmas I still think of my grandmother who went to her grave believing that I had insulted my mother that Christmas with my gift of pickles. 

With all the hustle and bustle that we are all engaged in during this time of year, shopping, wrapping, writing cards, decking the halls and planning menus, I haven’t had time to write anything in this blog over the last couple of weeks. So, I thought that what I would do is to post a couple Christmas stories that I included in Christmas letters several years ago but with a few editorial additions.

The Ghost of Christmas Presents

It was our second Christmas as a married couple, which makes the date 1974 (yes, I know, practically prehistoric times). That year, Larry and I decided that instead of giving each other presents, we would wait until after Christmas and buy something for our apartment that we would both enjoy. As most young couples starting out, our material possessions were extremely limited. One of those limitations was our television set, a black and white, hand-me-down that worked only on odd Tuesdays between 6 to 9 a.m. In those early years we spent the Christmas holidays sliding around Michigan’s snow-covered roads visiting our respective relatives.

After enjoying the color television sets at the homes of our various relations, returning to our “slap the tubes into submission” black and white dinosaur, we had the answer of what we wanted for Christmas – a new color television set. (Now for many of you reading this I know that the concept of a black and white television set is not something you can even wrap your head around, but stay with me on this).

With the enthusiasm and lack of forethought and logic that only the young can exhibit, we headed out to the nearest appliance store. We bought a 27 inch, cherry-wood console, color television set (again, in those days we are talking state of the art and the biggest TV set that was made, so for all you young readers, suspend your disbelief of what I am saying and understand that I am not exaggerating, that really and truly was state of the art stuff). It was beautiful. It was big. It was also very heavy . . . Did I mention that it was very big and very heavy?

Instead of opting for the sensible thing – having the darned thing delivered – we decided to take it home ourselves so that we could enjoy it for the remainder of our holiday vacation. Somehow the sales people managed to stuff the huge wooden crate the TV console was packaged in into the car’s trunk – cars were much bigger in those days. (yes, you read it right, I did say wooden crate, not a large cardboard box with Styrofoam. It really was a giant wooden crate, and cars had huge trunks that a giant wooden crate would actually fit into). Did I mention that the crate was very big and very heavy?

When we got to our apartment building reality set it. All of our fellow apartment dwellers were still away on their holiday visits with their respective relatives. It was late evening and a steady, icy drizzle was falling. The distance between the parking lot and the front door of the building was considerable and our apartment was two flights up. We had a crate-sized problem. I’m still not sure how we lifted the crate out of the trunk. Did I mention that it was very big and very heavy? Time has a merciful way of erasing really unpleasant events from our memory banks. I do know, however, that a lot of huffing and puffing, and a whole lot of cursing was involved in the operation.

Once we got the cursed crate our of the car trunk we slid an old blanket underneath the crate. Now when I say slid, I don’t mean to imply an easy process, but it was relatively speaking an easier feat than lifting that monster out of the trunk.

Between tugging, pulling, and a whole lot of more cursing, we eventually got the crate inside the foyer area of the apartment building. Eyeballing the width of the stairs and girth of the crate, even to two spatially moronic and challenged individuals such and Larry and myself, things were not looking good. If we were going to get the TV up those stairs we would first have to free it from its wooden prison. This was a problem. You see, the tool repertoire of newly-wed, apartment dwellers consists of one (small) hammer; one (small) screw driver; one (small) Phillips screw driver; and maybe, one (again, small) pair of pliers. And what we needed for this job was one LARGE crow bar. But never underestimate the power of desperation. We put our meager collection of small and inadequate tools to the test.

Later, much later, after scrapping our fingers and bending our tools, we freed our beautiful, new, big, and, did I mention heavy, TV set from its wooden cage. This got rid of some of the excess bulk and some of the weight, but we still had a large and heavy TV console to somehow get up two flights of stairs. Painstakingly, one at a time, we struggled up those stairs with our new TV set, which was starting to get older by the minute.

Getting the TV from the car to our living room took many hours. By the time it was over, it was around 2 a.m. Exhausted but eager to try out our new purchase, we searched for a channel that was still broadcasting at that late hour (OK, stop it. Yes, in those almost pre-historic times many TV stations did not broadcast 24 hours a day). We finally succeeded and found an old Errol Flynn movie called “Captain Blood.” We nestled ourselves on our sofa and settled in to enjoy that charming and campy old swashbuckler, a black and white movie, on our brand new color TV set.

Don’t believe a word of anything you’ve ever heard about the benefits or joys of aging. They are all nothing but platitudes and clichés at best, and in truth, outright lies and deceptions. The thing is, no one, and I do really, really mean, no one, either likes the idea of getting older or is enjoying the heck out of the whole getting older thing. Let’s face it, what is there to like about it? Oh, I know the whole, what are the alternatives thing? yeah, yeah, blah, blah. I get it, and I agree that being dead sucks a heck of a lot more that growing old.

Fine, so now that we’ve gotten that whole old B.S. argument out of the way let’s get down to reality, and reality is that I have never met anyone who is dancing for joy at the thought of aging. Why, I ask you would anyone like the idea of seeing your body doing things you never imagined in your worst dreams that it would do. It’s a total betrayal of all the care and attention you may have given it throughout your life. And I don’t care how much you’ve exercised, how well you’ve fed it, clothed it, moisturized it and pampered it. It is inevitable that eventually parts of it spread, sag, stiffen up, hurt, fall, widen, sprout unwanted hair, lose unwanted muscle tone, lose elasticity, and misbehave in a million other ways that you never saw coming.

When I look at pictures of myself in my 20’s and 30’s and look at myself now I wonder what the hell happened? What’s sad is that it creeps up on you. You don’t see the difference from one day to the next, or even from one week or month to the next. Yet one day you wake up and look in the mirror and you know that you are not the same person that looked in that same mirror, in really, what doesn’t seem all that long ago. Yet the mirror doesn’t lie. You are looking older. What used to be high cheek bones are now still high cheek bones, but the skin is no longer adhering to those bones. Instead, it has decided to migrate to the lower part of your face and become jowls, you know, those little pouches of flesh on either side of your chin, which by the way, is not as defined as it used to be either. And the same southern migration has happened to your eyelids, which are now threatening to fall over your eyes even when they are wide open. And the skin under “them eyes” isn’t staying put where it should either.

The same effects of gravity that are ravaging your face are taking their toll on all the other parts of your anatomy. And let me emphasize that the result of all that gravitational pull isn’t doing much to improve either your figure or your outlook on the future of that figure. And what’s with all the unwanted hair that sprouts from the weirdest places. And why does it do that? Just this week my sweetie had a piece of Kleenex attached to the side of his ear. When I asked him about this oddity he said he had cut himself.
“How?” I asked, “could you cut your ear?
“I was trimming the hairs growing out of my ear,” was his response. “It’s what happens when you get older, hair grows out of your ears.”
I must say, that is just plain wrong. Men have the double whammy of having to deal with the sad reality of thinning hairlines, and adding insult to injury, having to deal with their lost locks migrating from the top of their heads into strange territory, like the inside of their ears, nose and heaven only knows where else.

The other day a good friend of mine and I were talking about the whole aging thing and she said that she didn’t think that she could run anymore. She said she hadn’t tried it in a long time, but that she was sure that even if she had to run for any reason that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it. It got me thinking about it and while walking the track at the gym the other day I decided that I would try and see if I could do it. I took a few fast strides and then decided to reconsider the whole attempt to run since I don’t think that there is a sports-bra made that would be strong enough to protect me if I really tried to seriously give it a go. It saddened me because I remember a time when I could sprint with the best of them and get up to a pretty good speed in a short amount of time without having to consider whether parts of my body would sway out of control or go in opposing directions to the intended one.

And then there are the visits to the doctor. Those are really terribly depressing. Whenever you complain about something hurting you can be sure that the doctor’s explanation for whatever ails you will be prefaced with the words “well, you know, as we get older……” That’s when you know you are doomed. From this point on in your life those words will always be the explanation for the deterioration happening to whatever part of your anatomy that happens to be under discussion. And I don’t care if it is your digestive tract, a sore joint, moles sprouting, veins popping or calcium deposits shaking loose in your inner ear. It is all age related and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it from happening. It is going to happen. Why? Because you are getting old.

And then there are your conversations with friends. Notice how those change with age? As you get older whenever you get together with friends the conversation eventually and inevitably gravitates to the topic of which part or parts of your body are misbehaving and to what tortuous and humiliating medical procedure or test you will be shortly subjected to for the purpose of finding out why or what the problem is with said body part.

No, the whole myth of “getting better with age” only applies to wine, single malt and some cheeses. It most definitely does not apply to humans. Age is only fun from birth until somewhere in our mid-thirties. After that the fun part is over and the slide toward annoying and really annoying begins. I doubt there is a person out there who is truthfully not frightened of what getting older will do to them. I don’t think you can be sane and not be afraid of aging. It sucks. Some of us will age more gracefully and in better condition and health than others. But the bottom line is that we are all getting older by the minute.

So, with that comforting thought I will end this with the poem “Crabbed Age and Youth,” sometimes attributed to the Bard but officially anonymous, which perhaps tells it best:

Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Youth is full of sport,
Age’s breath is short;
Youth is nimble, Age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and Age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee;
O, my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee:
O, sweet shepherd, hie thee!
For methinks thou stay’st too long.

? by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from The Passionate Pilgrim, XII.

Halloween this year was tons of fun. We had a surprise visit from a good friend who got into the spirit of the holiday and stopped by to delight us with her wonderful witchy persona. Her costume was fantastic, in spite of her nose problems – it kept on falling off, to her chagrin. Since she drove over she forgot her broom, so, I loaned her mine for the picture. Ok, so it’s not the traditional straw broom, but on short notice it’s the best I could come up with.

The weather was a major contributor to the success of the festivities as we had unseasonably warm weather here in Michigan. It was in the 60’s and clear, accounting for the record number of trick-or-treaters, the majority donning imaginative costumes, which, because of the warm weather we were able to actually see. In other years they have been hidden under a heavy jacket or coat.

I love Halloween. The little ones next door, to whom we are honorary aunt and uncle, have been looking forward to it for weeks, excited at the prospect of dressing up and going trick-or-treating. I’m sure that that emotion and anticipation was reproduced in millions of households throughout the country. It is a simple holiday, no huge commercial blitz, no annoying jingles playing in the stores trying to lure people into a buying frenzy, no big pressure to get ready for it other than having some candies and a smile ready to greet the little ghosties and goblins begging for goodies at the door.

Hope you all had as good a Halloween as we did.