Ella Chase

I was driving to Atria the other day and listening to NPR and heard the most fascinating story.  It was so fascinating, I sat in the car after I'd parked to listen to more of it...then came home and found the recording on line at RadioLab and listened to the whole thing.

These two guys were driving south from San Francisco when one got excited and said that he saw a goat standing on a cow.  The other pulled the car over and they went and indeed find a goat standing on a cow.  As soon as they began to approach, the goat leaped down but they were standing in a field and when they looked around, there seemed to be letters scattered all over the place.

When they started picking up the letters, they found they were all addressed to someone named Ella Chase and seemed to all be from soldiers.

They picked up the letters and ut them in the box they seemed to have blown out of and took them home, determined to find who this Ella Chase was and whether they could return her letters to her.

Out of this accidental discovery has come a lifelong passion for one of the guys who found them. 

He started doing research to find out who Ella Chase was.  He searched all sorts of public records and it was not until months later that he found an obituary for her in the Napa newspaper.  The obituary had the names of several of her surviving relatives.  He managed to contact one relative, who wasn't interested at all.

During the process of his search, he found record of her maybe (or maybe not) marrying.  He started following that line.  He somehow found the name of her maybe husband and then found a newspaper article where there was some sort of kerfuffle, where he was married and denies ever marrying Ella.

Shortly after that, Ella started writing letters to soldiers fighting in World War II.  The letters in this collection they found were letters from the soldiers, many of whom referred to er as "mom" and expressed such warmth and gratitude for her letters and for her support.

Eventually they found her obituary, which listed family members and they tried to get in touch with them.   I think it as a cousin they called, who was't interested at all, but they found a guy they thought must be her grandson and called him, leaving a call back number.  They didn't hear from him.

Eventually he did call back and said that he thought the box they found had fallen off of is truck when he was moving to Southern California.  They had a nice conversation and he said that he also had a big box of photographs they might like to have.

The point of the story is how it all started by seeing a goat standing on a cow and out of it this whole passion and search began.  And it has given Ella Chase some sort of immortality and recognition for her kindness to support the fighting troops.

---

This has been a good week for my mother. (Isn't it nice to read that for a change?)

I think the medication is finally starting to kick in.  She still seems to have pain when she tries to get up, but she doesn't complain or seem to be suffering most of the time.  And it may be the medication that is making her loopy. We have had long conversations lately, all of them kind of fun because she makes no sense whatever.  Sometimes she knows who I am, sometimes she thinks I'm her sister.  I think she recognizes me and then she'll say something like "how is Mom?" when I will stop and ask her if she knows my name and she doesn't, thpugh she recognizes that I'm family and she loves me.

She doesn't talk gibberish, but she talks nonsense, asking questions or making observations that make no sense whatever, but she believes them and it's kind of fun to go along with her.  I just follow along with whatever she says, asking question about how she'd do this or that, what she wants to move, etc.  We often laugh when she can't come up with an answer.

One of the best things I ever did was putting her into the assisted living program.  She wasn't ready for it (and would not have qualified for long term care insurance payments) if I had done it earlier, but now that she is on, there are people in and out of her apartment all day long, checking on this or that, giving her meds, etc. She has always been a social person and now she has someone to talk to several times a day.

Not only that, but I know she is eating regularly and that she's getting her meds on a regular schedule. AND, what may be even ore important, knowing that she is getting attention, I don't feel the need to go and visit her every day and consequently I enjoy going to Atria more than I did when I felt I had to be there (almost) every day.

I don't know how long this situation is going to last, but I'm certainly enjoying it right now.

Today at Logos

Today Sandy starts her "every other week" schedule and I met Vojka, who will be alternating with her.  Seems like a nice lady.  I doubt we will become chatty like I have become with Sandy.

The first thing I did was to buy a photo card by Sandy Granett, local photographer who sells her cards at Logos.  I'm in a swap on SwapBot to share works of a local artist and I just love her stuff.  Usually she does flowers, birds, and bugs around Davis, but I liked this Halloween theme.  I hope my partner likes it.

I thought my first customer was a guy, when I saw "him" hunkering down in front of the craft books that should have been a clue) wearing a dirty cap with "Dubois" on it, sitting backwards on her-yes, she turned out to be a girl--head. She bought 7 bargain books, a crafts book a book on California History, and a contemporary fiction...and a bag to put them in.  The biggest sale of the day, at $42.77)

A farmer type in rumpled jeans, a blue shirt, and dusty shoes, as well as a camouflage baseball cap on his head.  He looked around for quite awhile and finally bought a book called "They Were Ragtime."

A tall guy in a plaid shirt bought a book called "Gershwins" which has been on the shelves for a very long time.

A guy looked around kind of aimlessly for a long time and finally asked me if I could help him choose a book.  He's trying to "get into reading" and wanted something short.  I gave him Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men."

A large woman dressed all in black bought the Screwtape Letters and a copy of the Koran.  We talked about the problem of having too much stuff in our purses.

A older middle aged woman came in having just finished watching Deep Water Horizon at the theater down the street.  She liked it a lot.  But she didn't find an book that she wanted to read.  She thanked me when she left and said again how much she had enjoyed the movie.

The Antiquarian was in and out in about 3 minutes, finding and buying a copy of poems by Robert Browning.  He was in a hurry, so we didn't chat.

Peter's friend Tom came in with 4 books to donate.  He does this every week, then shops at the math book section and if he finds something (as he did today), I don't charge him for the book.

A woman with Minnie Driver curly hair that extended down the middle of her back was dressed all in black with a black back-pack and a multicolored scarf.  I don't know why I found her striking but I guess it was her bearing, but she just looked so "together" in a way I never have.  She carried a book around for a long time and ultimately put it back and left.

A tall guy with grey hair, a baseball cap and glasses on top of his head. He bought 4 bargain books, and 2 scientific books and then after he'd paid, he noticed the stack of books that Tom had left for Peter.  I just made up a price and sold him the one he wanted.

A blonde with a long aqua colored sweater with wide white stories at the bottom asked if she could put a book on hold. I told her we didn't do that.  It was a book on Korea and I told her that the chance of it being gone when she comes in tomorrow were slight, though admitted that I thought that about "East Across the Equator" which I set aside 2 weeks ago and was gone the following week.  She found that book for me!  I'll see if it's there again next week.  Last week I read something on my Kindle.  This week I chose a different book:

(No connection with Lillian Jackson Braun's "The Cat Who...." books)

A woman with a large drooling dog stopped by to look at the bargain books, but did not come in, which, given how much the dog was drooling, was probably a good thing.

A swarthy guy with big headphones hanging around his neck spent a lot of time in the show biz section and ultimately bought two plays and a Dostoyevsky book.

A woman wearing shorts an flip flops looked though the fantasy book for awhile and finally bought a book by Neil Gaiman.

Another woman with pink/blonde hair wearing a dress, sneakers and a backpack and a violin case took off her sweater and settled herself on the floor with her ebook and looked at the fantasy shelf.

An older woman bought 2 bargain books and said, again, how sad she is that Logos is closing in January.

The final person I dealt with was a woman, all in black, who came in, stood at the front and looked around.  Then she asked me "do you sell books?" Not sure what she thought we were doing in a store filled with books, but she said 'We have nothing like this in Orange County.  We have to go to Barnes and Noble or the library"

Maybe that explains a lot about Orange County.

I Win!!!

It's not often...in fact it's rare ... that I can fool the dogs. They have been carefully training Walt and me over the past few years and I suspect they think they are close to winning the battle.

But not today.

We are creatures of habit around here, mostly because the four of us are home together all the time.  The dogs, bless them, are usually very patient with me.  No matter where I start the night, I usually end up asleep in the recliner.  Lately, after years of insomnia, I'm actually getting sleep.  I wake up in the middle of the night and move to the recliner.  To put myself to sleep, I have the TV on (lately I've discovered that Morning Joe is the very best sleeping pill, since it comes on at 3 a.m. here).  Even if I sleep as late as 9 a.m., as I did this morning, the dogs are very quiet and respectful, though they  are eager for breakfast.

But the second I touch the lever that lowers the footrest on the recliner, the dogs leap out of wherever they are sleeping and come running into the family room.  Lizzie is there for morning cuddles, Polly yeah, kinda wants to be cuddled, but even more she wants to eat.  NOW.

Walt never has to wonder if I'm awake or not because Polly starts barking immediately and barks and barks and barks and barks until she sees that their bowls are on the kitchen counter and being filled.

The day is pretty dull mostly with the dogs, exhausted from eating, spending the day recovering in their beds.  Once in awhile they go outside to see if there is anything interesting in the back yard.  Lizzie is amazing.  There is a spot in the yard where she stands and barks.  She doesn't seem to be barking at anything, but I swear if I let her she would bark in that spot all day, if I let her. 

But after 5-10 minutes I call them in.  They come in, running, because they know that they will get a little treat when they respond.

On nice days, Polly spends a lot of time outside, and if I am in the recliner and decide to get up, she races into the house, doing her happy dance, barking and turning circles because she thinks I will give her a treat.  Sometimes  do, sometimes I don't.  The other day she went out to the patio, barked twice, then poked her head in the door and looked for me as if to say "did you hear that?  I barked."  

I used to feed the dogs their dinner after Jeopardy.  When the "think music" for the final Jeopardy question came on, the dogs would get up and stand there looking at me. This worked well for a long time until we went away on a cruise.  Ashley fed them earlier and after we got home, there was no living with them until 7:30.  I finally agreed to feed them at  6 and since then, they have been trying to get me to feed them earlier and earlier.  I'll be in there in my office and I'll feel a nose pushing my elbow around 4 p.m., and when I don't move, they'll try again in a half hour. I refuse to feed them before 5 p.m., at the very earliest.

Even if they haven't yet started telling me they are ready to eat, all I have to do is get up to go to the bathroom an Polly starts barking and Lizzie starts leaping. I have put off going to the bathroom for as long as half an hour just to avoid Polly.

During the day they will interrupt me for three reasons:  Either they are hungry and want to eat NOW, or their water bowl is empty, or they want to go outside (we leave the sliding glass door oen for them, rather than using the dog door.  Not sure why.)

Polly has definitely become Walt's dog.  When she first arrived here (about 8 years ago), she was terrified and bonded with me, so she slept with her nose in my armpit and eventually felt comfortable enough to turn around and slept like a normal dog in my lap, and always slept on top of me.  Some time ago I realized that she was spending her time in Walt's lap.  I'm not jealous.  I think it's cute.  When she hears him coming down the stairs that little tale could take off like a helicopter, if she weighed less.  If he makes the mistake of walking through the family room without petting her, she stands on his chair and barks and barks until he comes back and pets her, then she lets him leave. She sometimes still starts out sleeping on me, turning and turning to find her sweet spot, settling down for about 30 seconds, then getting up and moving to a chair, where she spends the night.

Tonight the dogs were out in the yard, barking.  I suddenly realized that it was 5 p.m. and wondered if I could sneak into the kitchen and start putting their dinner together,  Their hearing is so acute that I can stand in the kitchen and whisper "treat time" and Lizzie leaps up from a nap and runs to the kitchen.  

But I snuck out of my office and quietly picked up the food bowls and put them on the counter.  I opened the tiny can of dog food I mix with kibble.  I managed to get it broken up in their bowls and was just opening up the bin where I keep the kibble when suddenly they were there.  I don't know if it was the aroma of the canned food or the noise of the kibble as I scooped it up that made them realize I was ahead of them.  

But I did it!  I managed to get their dinners mixed for them without any leaping from Lizzie or barking from Polly. 

These days you have to find your triumphs wherever you can.

---

But speaking of triumphs, I met Ned at Atria this morning.  He had brought a watermelon and coffee cake for us to share with my mother.

I was pleased when we got to her apartment to see that the newspaper had been picked up again. When we went in, she wasn't there.

Ned decided to check the dining room, and left me in the apartment with his dog, Bouncer, the whiner.  Bouncer spent most of the time (15-20 minutes) Ned was gone (he called me from the dining room and said they were finishing up there) standing at the door whining.

They arrived back at the apartment, my mother once again pushing her walker.  ("Is this my apartment?" as she sat down and looked blankly around the room.  I wish she could learn to recognize where she has lived for the past 3+ years.)

We had a nice visit, though most of the time she didn't make sense and when Ned and I talked, she usually didn't understand our words (but laughed about it).  "You know, I see you both speaking but I can't understand a single word you are saying."

But after the blow up earlier this week, it's been so nice to have three really positive days.  When she is good, she is very, very good...when she is bad, she is horrid.   And it's nice that Ned often brings out the best in her because Ned will not tolerate anything less than positive.

What a Difference a Day Makes

Needless to say, I was nervous going to Atria today.  But I girded my loins and headed off for lunch.  Sadly, there was no parking anywhere within 3 blocks, so I decided I didn't have to have lunch; I would go later. 

At 1;30, I tried again and managed to find a spot in the parking lot.  I had butterflies in my stomach, surprisingly, walking down the hall, after her explosion yesterday. I was pretty sure she'd be OK< but you never know with this damn disease. I saw her newspaper had been taken in, so figured she was up.  I let myself in.  She was out of bed and dressed, but down again, napping on the couch.  The big surprise was seeing a walker in her apartment. In the past she has resisted even having it inside.  I decided not to mention it.

Rather than waking her up, I had planned ahead and had brought my book and just settled in to read until she woke up.  

I guess I read for about 15 minutes when two aids knocked on the door.  Their shift was ending and they wanted to know if she wanted to go to lunch (I thought it odd they hadn't asked her before, but whatever)

They got her up and sitting in the walker before she actually saw me.  Her face lit up and she said she was thrilled to see me.  "I haven't seen you in such a long time," she exclaimed, a big smile on her face.

The four of us started for the dining room. and unhesitatingly, she pushed the walker without a comment.  The aids left us in the dining room and I was helping her with the menu.  She was still glowing at "finally" seeing me.  When she asked "how's Mom?" I realized she didn't have a clue who I was.  I asked her if she knew who I was and then she looked confused.  I finally told her who I was.  Then she kind of remembered.  I asked if she knew who she was and she said "Of course I do."  I asked what her name was and she didn't know.  When I told her it was Mildred she made a face and said that was a silly name.  About that time, I remembered I had a little digital tape recorder with me and I started it and put it on the table.  I've been meaning to tape a conversation for some time now.  This was the PERFECT day to do this.  She never noticed it was there.

When I turned away to look at the menu for her and then turned back, she had passed out again, her head resting on the table.  The server asked if I wanted him to call an aid and I told him no.  I got her awake again and, as usual, she awoke with a start and had to orient herself as to where she was.

The strange thing was that she wasn't upset or anxious, but it was as if most of her brain had been wiped almost clean.  She didn't remember anything. About anything.  It didn't bother her, like it usually does, but she asked a lot of questions and I kept filling her in on parts of her life.  Every so often she would marvel that the brain is so strange that it won't let you remember things.

She never remembers that she has great grandchildren, but today she didn't even remember grandchildren (and she always remembers them).  The names Tom, Ned and Jeri were familiar to her, but she couldn't picture them. I found pictures in my cell phone, but that didn't help.

All things considered, though, it was one of the most pleasant lunches I've had with her in a long time.

At one point I missed Peach and Kathy so much.  We were talking about her siblings and she asked me if she had any.  I told her she had six sisters and three brothers.  Then I started to name them.  Now, Marie is her second oldest sister and was married and out of the house long before my mother was born.  They never had much of a relationship and my mother told me on several occasions over the years that she really was always afraid of Marie. Even as a young woman, Marie was pretty large and I can imagine that she was scary to little kids, especially since she was an alcoholic and who knows what she was like when she came home drunk.

I started at the low end of the siblings and mentioned Marge and Barb, the two sisters she was closest to throughout her life, and Paul and Betsy...saying the names slowly to let her think about each one.  Then I mentioned Jim and Scotty and then Marie and Mel.  When I got to Marie's name, she waved and said "oh you can leave Marie out of the list."  She can't remember her own name but remembered that she never liked Marie!  I so much wanted to share that with Peach and Kathy who, along with my mother, would be the only ones who would have realized how funny that really was.

She had a bowl of soup and some ice cream and I got a really good recording of our conversation, which I stopped when we left the dining room.  When she got up, I told her to get her walker, which she did without complaint and pushed it all the way back to her apartment (I had to show her where her apartment was).  I think this "wiping the brain clean" erased her memory of how much she hated walkers and when the aids got her into hers, she just accepted it as the way things are now.  It will be interesting to see how things are tomorrow.

We sat and talked for awhile.  I mentioned something about my father and she said "I was married to him, wasn't I?"  When I told her that yes, she was she said "I really miss him."  Then I told her that no, she probably didn't miss him but missed her second husband, Fred.  She was a bit vague on Fred and couldn't picture him in her mind (which made me sad, because she loved him so much).

She asked me several times if she had done anything in her life and I enumerated things that she had done (she had no memory of my sister, except, when hearing that she died many years ago, she said "that must make you sad.") 

I told her about her career with the Bank of America, which she can't remember, and the years that she volunteered at Hospice of Marin and how much she was loved by people.  That seemed to make her happy.  Though she can't remember any of those things, she was glad to hear that she had accomplished things in her life and that people liked her.

We sat and talked for half an hour more and I had this notion, from watching her body language and listening to what she was saying, that some of her old self was coming back again, so I felt comfortable leaving her, but I promised that I would be back the next day.

As I was leaving, I realized that she had not ONCE mentioned any pain!!!  What's more, she wasn't moving as if she was in pain either.  Maybe the new medication is finally working.

Ned called and said he was going to visit her tomorrow and was bringing a little watermelon he thought we could share, so I will meet him there and we will have watermelon together...and I'll see what she's like then.  Every day is a new adventure, and who knows what her brain is going to be doing tomorrow.

But I sure had a good day with her today, and best of all, if she screams at me and throws me out again, I can come home and play our conversation on tape and remember when we had a good visit together.

GET OUT OF HERE !!!

Today was a new experience, another step down into that pit that will ultimately, if she lives long enough, get my mother moved to the memory unit.

When I arrived for lunch, I was surprised to see her newspaper had been picked up, the kitchen light was on, the curtains were opened.  All signs that she was up.

But she wasn't.  She was in bed, still in her night clothes.  She was awake, but in bed.

I asked her what was wrong.  She said "everything." (when was the last time she greeted me with a smile...?)

I asked her if she hurt, and no, she didn't hurt.  I was specific.  Did her back hurt? No.  Did her leg hurt?  Yes.  Did her stomach hurt?  No.

Then she asked "what are we going to do about all this stuff?"

I asked her what stuff was she talking about.  She spread her hands out as if the answer was obvious.  "All THIS," she said.

Turns out it was an anxiety day.  She doesn't know where she is, where she is supposed to be going, what she was supposed to be doing.  We have this conversation almost every day.

I told her yet again that she had lived here for three years, that this was her home, that she had nothing specific that she had to do, but she should get dressed so we could go to lunch.

She looked at me as if I were speaking Chinese.  She asked again "but what are we going to DO about all this?"

Then she asked "isn't there someone else in the family I could talk to."  I explained that all of the family were dead and she was stuck with me.

She kept looking around warily as if she expected something terrible to happen at any minute.

I tried again going through the "this is your home, you have nothing specific to do, just put on your pants and we can go to lunch."  She tried to put on her shoes.  I suggested she should put on pants before her shoes.  She said again she didn't know what to do or where to go.  I expressed my frustration saying I knew how scary this was for her, but that there was nothing I could do for her.  That I'd tried to answer her questions, but she didn't understand.

Then she whirled on me and yelled JUST GET OUT OF HERE!!!!! I said I would leave and told her I would be back tomorrow and she yelled DON'T BOTHER COMING BACK!!!!

Now, I know that this sort of thing is common with dementia, the anger and turning on loved ones, but it hadn't happened to me yet and I was in tears when I left (slamming the door behind me).  I stopped at the office and talked with Brianna, who is in charge of her physical health at Atria. I told her I wasn't upset with Atria, but I just had to vent.

I told her what had happened, and broke down crying.  She was wonderfully understanding.  I'm sure she gets this all the time. We talked for a long time and she gave me a report on how my mother was doing in general, on the dinners she had seen her eating with her friend Loretta, how she sometimes sees her wandering around the hall by herself, so I know that she's doing OK--and that they are keeping a careful eye on her.  So I'm not really worried for her.  We've been through these "anxiety days" before, but it's so frustrating to be unable to bring her any peace ... or, for that matter, pain relief.  

I asked about whether they had been using the Lidocaine cream I got on Friday and had rushed through getting a prescription for, even though it is not a prescription med. My mother doesn't remember anybody putting cream on her back (but I never take her word for anything). Brianna told me one reason they haven't used it is that the medication I was given by the pharmacy is Lidocaine RECTAL cream!  This is for rubbing on the skin of her back.  I came home and wrote to her doctor, who has read the e-mail, but has not answered yet.

Though I felt better after talking with Brianna, I still had a little cry when I got into the car.  Then I called Walt to report what had happened, and I sent a text message to Jeri and Ned.  Jeri said she called her grandmother after my text, but there was no answer.

I went off to the supermarket and loaded up on comfort food, came home and just sat there feeling depressed.

I remember when my father had a nervous breakdown (or what was called a nervous breakdown in those days) after his job working on the train ended and he had to go to work in the main post office instead, getting mail ready to be shipped by airplane instead of train. He started seeing a psychiatrist, who got him on anti-depressants, Night after night I remember him sitting in total darkness in our living room, the only light the red from the tip of his cigarette.

I thought about him today as I sat in my chair.  I wasn't at the depths, but was definitely affected by mother's anger at me for the first time in my life that I remember!  It hurt first when she asked for someone else in the family to talk to, because obviously I was no help to her at all, and then throwing me out of the apartment and telling me not to come back.

Oh, I know that when I go tomorrow I'm sure she will be fine and I know that probably by the time I got to Brianna's office, she had already forgotten about it, but I'm still digesting it and it won't really clear until I see her again NOT angry with me.

Of course then I came home and turned on the news, and nothing about the endless dissections of last night's debate is designed to cheer me up.

Maybe I'll take up smoking and start sitting in the living room with the lights turned off

28 Days

28 days till the election.  It can't get here soon enough.

So yeah.  I watched the debate.  I also watched the pre-debate talking heads and remember when Brian Williams was interrupted and practically speechless when he went to a press conference Trump was holding with four Clinton accusers.  Really?  None of those women looked particularly happy to be there.  Then he arranged for them to sit in the front row of the VIP: section during the debate

With all that is going on in this country and in the world, this is what Trump wanted to focus on??  Well...yeah.  The first...what?...20 minutes?...was devoted to sex. Trump's sexual misadventures, Bill Clinton's sexual misadventures. I know it is all anybody is talking about, but THIS is the thing the candidates have to debate? Presidential historian Michael Beschloss said this might be the first presidential debate that parents would have to keep their kids from watching.

Trump was determined to dominate this debate and whenever Hillary spoke, he walked behind her and loomed over her, glowering, mic at his mouth ready to interrupt at a moment's notice.

He complained when the moderators "let" her extend her time by 10 seconds and then frequently extended his own time by 30 seconds or more and continued to interrupt her throughout the debate (though admittedly less than he did last time)  He also promised that if he is elected the first thing he will do is to appoint a special prosecutor to investigate Hillary Clinton and make sure she goes to prison.

In honesty, he was better prepared this time and I suspect if you are a Trump supporter you thought he "won" the debate, while Hillary supporters think she "won."  It was not as clear cut as it was the last time. 

In the past, I have written here about the thing I have observed about men--how they unbutton their jackets when they sit and then button them when they stand up, how talk show hosts button and unbutton their jackets dozens of times during the course of a show.  Trump never buttoned his jacket and he just looked sloppy all night long as he paced around the stage.

I am reading a book about Eleanor Roosevelt right now and she wrote at one point when she was touring the mining towns of West Virginia (first ladies could do that in those days!  She even did it without Secret Service accompaniment) that standing and looking at the poverty and the terrible condition of the families just made her want to cry at the futility of it all (though she actually did quite a bit to alleviate the living conditions of many families).

In watching the debate that's how I felt -- helpless to do anything and feeling on the verge of tears.  I know people who refuse to watch for that reason, but I am unable to turn away.  I do it on compulsion, and always feel worse for it.  In parts of last night, I felt like I'd stumbled upon something very dirty and shameful.

28 days....28 days...28 days...

In other words, I took the day off from Atria again and spent the day at home.  I can't even think of what I did.  I didn't write any letters because it was Sunday and not a mail day.  I didn't work on pocket letters because I finished the last one I was working on on Saturday, on the theme "cute critters."

But I did spend a good portion of the day writing a review for the show we saw last week, Romeo and Juliet.  I had already written a review for the Enterprise, but also had to write one for the News and Review. I have learned, to my surprise, writing the short reviews for News and Review is actually more difficult than writing the longer review (250 vs. 750 words).  When it's a good show  it's fun to ramble on and on about all the good things about it.  But when you have to break that down to only 250 words, then you have to decide what to emphasize and what to ignore.  When it's a Shakespeare play, it is even more difficult because (a) I never studied Shakespeare and don't really like it--though I have gotten better over the past 15 years) and (b) my colleague, who reviews for the local public radio station and occasionally fills in for me when I am unable to do a show, is to Shakespeare when I am to Gilbert & Sullivan.  He loves it.  He travels anywhere he can get to see a show he knows inside out, but wants to see how this company does it in this production.  He told me after the show that it was surprising how much of the script they had cut to tighten things up.  Well, while I can practically recite any G&S show, I wouldn't know whether a script had been cut or not.  His radio review was very professorial and so I was intimidated from the get go, but I did get it written, for good or not.

I get paid more for the shorter reviews, which I initially though was weird, but having done it now for a year, I agree that they are worth more.

And I have to admit that even Shakespeare is a better thing to obsess about than Donald Trump.

Sunday Stealing

1.) What are 3 things on your Wish list and why?
- Pain relief for my mother (which seems fairly obvious)
- a new cell phone (because the old one has so many problems)
- A Trump defeat ("spectacular" would be even more wonderful)

2.) Do you miss your childhood?
Only pieces of it.  I loved high school.  I wouldn't mind going back to that, but getting from there to here, no thank you.

3.) What do you do on your spare time on the weekends?
Being retired, my weekends are no different from my week days, so nothing necessarily special, except that I often have shows to review on weekends.

4.) What do you appreciate most in your life?
My family, and the fact that we all love each other.

5.) Would you rather be rich or healthy?
Healthy.

6.) If you could go back in time would you and why?
I'm having enough trouble with THIS time period.  Maybe if I could go back two years and somehow prevent the Orange Menace from running for president.  Or go back 10 years and convince my mother to go into Atria while she still had enough mental capacity to actually make friends and enjoy activities.

7.) Favorite game as a child?
Monopoly.

8.) What is your dream career?
Well, it's a little too late for a dream career, but if I could go back, I should have majored in journalism and started working for a newspaper.  Maybe.

9.) What do you do in your free time?
All my time is "free time."

10.) Favorite clothing stores?
It has been so long since I've been to a clothing store, I can't even name one.  Rarely, I order something on line from one of the fat lady catalogues.

11.) What TV shows can't you live without?
Jeopardy, Rachel Maddow, Big Bang Theory, NCIS....but I've learned with Jon Stewart's retirement that you can go on after your favorite show changes.  NCIS seems headed for ending soon...it's time...but with reruns, it will live forever.

12.) 3 things you need in your life are:
- Water
- Books
- Writing

13.) What can't you sleep without?
Some sort of blanket.  Not for warmth, but to cuddle under.

14.) Who do you have a celebrity crush on?
Nobody.

15.) What is your Favorite Season and why?
Autumn because the colors are wonderful and it means that soon it will be winter.

16.) What is your Favorite Wild Animal?
The elephant

17.) Name 3 of your Favorite Childhood shows:
Howdy Doody, Beany and Cecil, The Mickey Mouse Show

18.) If you could live as a character in a movie who would it be?
Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday.  Oh to be that young and thin...and oh to have such a long neck!
On further reflection, and after reading One Gal's Musings, I realized that the right answer was there in front of me all the time:  I choose Jo March, from Little Women.

19.) Favorite vegetables?
Artichoke, corn, peas, spinach (especially with garlic)

20.) Favorite Fruit?
strawberries and bananas

21.) If you had a dragon what would you name it?
Puff

22.) What do you put on hotdogs?
Mustard, catsup, onions.

23.) Do you play online games?
Just "Word with Friends," which is more difficult now that I can't play it on my cell phone (because the IOS is too old for the latest version of the game and I can't d/l the older version).

24.) What's your favorite way to get inspired?
Read John Steinbeck. My writing always improves when I'm reading Steinbeck.

25.) Do you have a middle name?
Anne (remember the "e")