What Movie Makes You Happy

There are a lot of movies that make me smile, and some that make me laugh. But there is one movie I was watching where I stopped and realized… I Feel Happy!!

It was during the movie Scrooge with Albert Finney and the song “Thank You Very Much”… and I felt chills of happiness. It rarely happens, so I really noticed it when it did.

Even now watching it again, I get those same chills.

Holding On pt7

Semi-Erotic Fiction Based on True Events

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David, exhausted, finally fell asleep and I knew this was my sign to leave. I felt like all he had wanted was a one night stand and we both got that and then some.
I quietly slipped out of his arms, reluctantly, and got dressed trying to not disturb him. He had more than earned his rest.

I pulled my pants on, without putting on my panties, they were still damp, so I just wadded them up and stuffed them into my purse. I shimmied back into the tube top and slipped on my sweater. Sometimes not putting on underwear is so much easier. As I slipped my shoes on, I felt him stir on the bed and I looked over just as he opened his eyes..

“Where are you going?”

“I have to leave, love.. I have to go to work.”

That wasn’t totally true. I didn’t have to go to work later that afternoon. But I feared the garish light of morning, and the awkward turn of events after a night of sex, of a one night stand, when you both try to find a way to end it and say good bye. I didn’t want to be the one who was kicked to the curb, so I chose to lie and leave first.

David stroked my arm and said, plaintively,

“But I love waking up to the face of a beautiful girl….”

Oh, my god, that almost did it. I almost peeled off my clothes again and fell back into his waiting arms. But I held on to my resolve.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

I kissed him one last time on his incredibly soft lips and willed myself to pull way from him. I stood up and turned and walked towards the door. A single tear escaped from my eye and I secretly hoped he would jump up and block the door and beg me to stay. But he didn’t. I walked out of the door, closing it softly behind me and walked down to my car and got in. I sat there for a minute collecting my thoughts before I turned on the ignition, put the gear in drive and drove away.

All the way home, I questioned my sanity. Maybe it wasn’t just a one night stand. Maybe he really did want me to stay, but his foolish pride, and mine, didn’t allow for either of us to say so. But I knew that wasn’t true. I knew that that was just what I was hoping for, not what was real.

I spent the rest of the day sitting in silence at home, reliving the night. I sat on the floor with my back against the window, wearing cut offs and a tank top, again, with no underwear, sipping on a warm, flat Coke. My hair was wet and every time it started to get dry, I’d strip and jump back into the shower, like I was trying to wash the memory of David and the last night out of my hair and of my memories. It wasn’t working. Finally, in what seemed like hours and hours, I realized I had to get ready to go to work. Why had last night seemed like it had lasted just minutes and the few hours I’d been home seemed like days?

I plaited my long hair into a braid, mostly just to get it out of my face, and then dressed in jeans and a navy blue tee shirt and zoris and went to work just before 3pm, not being due to clock in until 3:45.

I walked into the telephone company operator services office 15 minutes early and offered to start then, which allowed someone else to go home 15 minutes early. That was fine with me, I wanted to be busy and not have any more time to myself to think about David. Too bad that didn’t help. Everything at work reminded me of David…

I sat down at an empty station of the long row of switchboards. This was last old cord board office in Seattle and we were getting ready to be switched out to the new computer boards, which I found to be incredibly boring. This job was much more fun and interesting, with a lot of variety. We made calls all over the world, made conference calls and ship to shore calls to and from the many boats in Seattle. The old switchboards were very visual for the operator working with them, lots of black and red cords, plugged into lighted jacks on the board, with the cords crisscrossing over and around each other depending on where the call was coming in at and where the front cord was plugged into for the outgoing number.

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For the first time in my job as a long distance operator, I noticed just how sexy the switchboard looked, at least to me, at least this day. The plugging and unplugging of the male switchboard plug into the female jack (essentially a hole) to complete a call. The crisscrossing of the cords reminded me of legs intertwined. Opening and closing of the keys to open up the call or close it reminded me of mouths, and, oh my… Answering and completely a call was sometimes called putting up a call, and that made me think of other things that are “up”… And that all was just in the first 15 minutes! My voice became husky in memory of last night and when I answered another call with “operator, may I help you”, the male customer commented on my voice, saying,

“My god, your voice, my lamp just melted!”

A little embarrassed, I tried to just laughed… and asked how I could help him. He answered by saying,

“How about meeting for me a drink.”

I told him I was sorry that I had to work. He gave me the number he was calling and then his own and said…

“Okay, but if you change your mind, you have my number”

When I closed the key to the call, I sat back and pulled my headset off. My friend, Laurie, sitting next to me, looked over and said,

“What’s wrong?”

“I just got propositioned by a customer…” I said infuriated.

“Oh, so why didn’t you take him up on it?”

I looked at her like she was nuts. We were always getting offers for one thing or another by male customers and even occasionally by women. I put my break card up to be relieved to go to the restroom and when someone came to relieve me, I went straight to a toilet stall, where I cried bitter tears. Both from the unwanted offer and from the wanted one that I didn’t get. But mostly from the frustration that I might have just screwed a really good chance of happiness by not staying with David when he asked me to stay.

Finally, I wiped away the last tear and came out of the stall, walked to the sink and looked at my face in mirror. ‘Lovely,’ I thought, ‘now I was all red and blotchy. I bent down to splash cold water on my face. I opened my purse to see what make up I had with me. I rarely wore more than eye make up and clear lip gloss, but I found some foundation and dotted that I around on my face, added a little water and some moisturizer I also found and rubbed that all over my face, especially around my eyes.

Then I put on more black eyeliner, mascara and some dark gray eye shadow. I still looked like I had been dragged through the ringer, but better than I did when I first looked in the mirror. I took my hair out of the braid so I could maybe hide behind it. One of the advantages of having long hair. I ran a brush through my hair that was still a little wet even several hours of being braided. Oh, well, it was the best I could do.

I still had 90 minutes of my shift to get through. Ninety minutes to kill. One of the my last calls was a person-to-person call to a “David Anderson”… that figures. Is everyone in the world now named David? I hadn’t noticed just how common that name was. I announced the call…

“This is a person-to-person call to David Anderson. Is he available to take the call?”

“Yes, this is David Anderson…” came the answer. I closed my key. I kept seeing my David’s face, and then double checked to make sure the call didn’t start or end in Everett. ‘My David’, who was I kidding? He was hardly my David!! Maybe David wasn’t even his real name?

When my shift was over, I hightailed it out of there and went straight to my car, ignoring my group of friends sitting the lounge area of the operator’s locker room. I usually sat around talking for a while, but tonight I was afraid I wouldn’t be able talk without thinking of David and breaking down. After I got to my car, I couldn’t decide what to do. Almost every night I went to Pier 70 or one of the other dance clubs in Seattle. There was almost always something going on somewhere in town. And usually I went with a friend or two, but tonight I sat alone in my car. Should I just go home? And do what??

Reminiscences: Musings in Memoir — Prompt #4: Run

photo of woman in gray spaghetti strap top and gray pants running beside concrete wall
Photo by Retha Ferguson on Pexels.com

In my mind I see myself running… down a path, between trees, along a grassy patch, past some animals, onto a road, back the path. In my head I hear the song “Light My Fire” by The Doors. Since high school that song has been my running song and even now I can listen to it and feel myself running once again.

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Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

I ran track in high school… short sprints and hurdles but never thought of myself as a long distance runner. I only did that for myself… Running on the beach, on the path at Greenlake, amongst animals in display habitats at the zoo, and my favorite of running in Ravenna Park, all in Seattle.

In the 60’s, girls running track in high school wasn’t considered a sport, it was just a pastime for us to amuse ourselves. We couldn’t earn letters, only the boys could do that. Our equipment was the boy’s old castoffs, and usually broken. We were only allowed to use the track and gym after the boys were finished with it.

After high school, I stopped running, I don’t know why… I wish I could again. At this point, I would be happy to walk again.

But in my mind, I’m still a runner….

 

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Best Pizza in the World

Trying to find good pizza in a small town is nearly impossible. A new pizza place opened up here and so with a few friends, we tried it out.

Nothing to rave about and I was disappointed.

In my entire life of nearly 70 years, only three places have made what I consider the best pizza in the world, two in Seattle and one just north in Lynnwood.

Northlake Tavern

Northlake Tav is just a tiny ways away from the University of Washington, for those 21 and over. They pile on mounds of toppings on top of a proper crust (not too thin and not too thick) and hot and bubbly right out of the pizza oven. Even when we moved to Lynnwood, we would drive the 25 miles south just to get this pizza.

My second choice is the Italian Spaghetti House and Pizzeria, which sadly no longer exists. This was right in my own backyard, just down the street and around the corner from my house. I celebrated my 18th birthday there and my parents and I would make a late night stop for pizza after watching Johnny Carson together. The chef’s name was Ilio, which I named my little dog.. actually Keiki Ilio, which also meant “little dog” in Hawaiian. It was a great place with wonderful handmade pizzas that always tasted fresh. A huge loss to the neighborhood when it closed.

The last one is Sparta’s in Lynnwood. When I lived in Lynnwood, we spent a lot of time at Sparta’s. Great pizza, excellent salads and wonderful cheesecake.

Sparta’s Pizza

The main pluses of all three of these places is that they never changed. They stayed true to their design for decades of existence. You always knew you could get what you came for when dining there. Consistency was the key.

TMI Tuesday: June 9, 2020: What Is….

1. What is your phone screensaver at the moment?

I use the one that came with the phone. I like the colors and design and I’m basically lazy. When I get bored with it, I’ll figure out how to change it.

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2. What is currently on your playlist? (list top 5)

3. What are your last three internet searches?

More information about BIPOC

Looking for a fashion design software program

Searching for a photo 

4. What is your favorite sandwich filling?

Cheese with mayo, pickles and lettuce. I do like tuna with cheese and grilled into a tuna melt. I also love cream cheese, sliced tomatoes and sliced onions.

5. What is one staple item all men should own?

Whatever makes him the most comfortable. For some that will a suit and tie and for others jeans and a teeshirt. If they are comfortable and secure they will be more relaxed and not be worried about themselves.

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Reminiscences: Wind

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I saw a new project on Mrs. Fever’s memoir prompt wind and I knew I wanted to participate in this project. I finally found the time to do so.

Wind. There is so much I can say about it. I love windy days and big wind storms, until the power goes out. I love windsocks and have even made a few. I love flying kites in the wind, although it’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to do that. My dad use to windsurf, even up into his 80’s… he is 91 now and had to finally give up his hobby. One thing I’ve never tried is sailing, which is weird considering I grew up in the town called “the boat capital of the world”. Oh, we had boats of course… rowboats and paddle boards and canoes and kayaks, and outboard motor boats and cruisers and one big one that looked like a barge. My dad built boats while I was growing up, including a salmon fishing boat that he used in Westport and then eventually sailed to Hawaii then sold it and then stayed in Hawaii to live. But we never had a sailboat.

But when I think of wind, I think of songs with “wind” in the name of the song.

“Windy” by the Association… which I adopted as my theme song… (windy, cindi, get it?)

“They Call the Wind Mariah” which is from the movie “Paint Your Wagon”. Elliott used this song is his version of this prompt: They Call The Wind Mariah

“Wind Beneath My Wings” by Bette Midler (from the movie “Beaches”)

“Dust in the Wind” by Kansas

“Blowing in the Wind”…. done by Bob Dylan and another version by Peter, Paul and Mary.

“Candle in the Wind” by Elton John. He did a version of this in honor of Princess Diana after she died. My daughter’s dance team did a tribute to my daughter at the spring recital after my daughter died.

“She’s Like the Wind” by Patrick Swayze (from the movie “Dirty Dancing”)

“Summer Wind” by Frank Sinatra

“And The Wind Cries Mary” by Jimi Hendrix

“Against the Wind” by Bob Segar

“Colors of the Wind” by Vanessa Williams (from the movie “Pocahontas”

 

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TMI Tuesday: May 12, 2020: Ain’t Misbehaving

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Photo by Dids on Pexels.com

 

1. How replaceable are you?

Depends who you ask, but I suspect I could easily be replaced.

2. Does jealousy have value in driving humans to improve themselves or is it a purely negative emotion?

Again, it depends. For some people I could see how being jealous, or at least a little envious of someone else could prompt them to make changes for themselves. But I think for many jealousy is a controlling negative emotion that doesn’t end up making anyone happy.

3. A section of your life’s memories needs to be erased, which era will you elect to have erased?
a. childhood memories – age 3 to 12
b. teen and young adult years – age 13 to 23
c. adult – age 24 to 35

Childhood memories for sure. While there were some moments of fun and joy, there were also too much abuse and neglect. I’m still dealing with the after affects of it all.

4. With no laws or rules to influence your behavior, how do you think you would behave?

I am a people pleaser so I doubt even then I would take advantage of anyone else.

5. Does anonymity encourage people to misbehave or does it reveal how people would choose to act all the time if they could?

I think it shows their true colors and how they would act and react all the time. The reaction of people to quarantine and the coronavirus pretty much illustrates that. People react to the mob mentality of things they might not do on their own.

Bonus: In the time of coronavirus pandemic, what are you rocking–homemade face covering or manufactured mask?

A bit of both. I uploaded three of my collage designs to Fine Art America where they can be made into non-surgical cloth masks.

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Facemasks

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May 4, 1970: Fifty Years Since the Kent State Shootings.

I remember the day well. I was at work as a long distance telephone operator in Seattle. Suddenly the switchboard lit up with people wanting to call Ohio (this was long before cell phones and direct dial). The circuits were so clogged up most of the calls didn’t go through. This is how many of us first heard of the shootings. Most of us operators were young, of the same age group as the students at Kent State. Many of us had already attended protests at the University of Washington. We already pictured what it might have looked like and empethetically felt the fear and terror those kids faced.

Then, as now, it was older white people who wanted to sacrifice young able bodied people to fulfil their own desires. Then it was to prove to the world that America was the biggest, the best and the strongest and nobody messes with the USA! Now it’s to force young hairstylists and nail artists to open up their salons in the middle of a pandemic so that older white people can get their hair cut and their nails done. In both cases in both time frames, it didn’t seem to matter how many people died to achieve their purpose.

But please don’t paint all us older white people with the same brush. Many of us are still liberal activists who didn’t vote for Donald Trump, who support the ideas, works and actions of younger people,  and will still fight for the rights of all.

After work I rushed home to turn on the TV. While we didn’t have CNN, MSNBC or 24 hour news coverage, we were able to see quite a bit. Newspapers were full of the stories and it was talked about on the radio. I imagine if this happened now with all of that plus social media, so much more would have been known.

The next day at work another protest happened, this time right here in Seattle.

People didn’t have cell phones then, but they witnessed the event and ran home to make phone calls or crammed into phone booths to call.

Protesters had surged onto the I5 freeway by the University of Washington and blocked the traffic and a standoff with Seattle Police. A few days later, the mayor would close the express lanes of the freeway to allow protesters to march from the university to the federal courthouse downtown. That one I watched from 3rd Avenue but didn’t take part, mostly due to the difficulty of getting from downtown the U District in time.

A few days after the Kent State shooting, the musical group, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young released a song called Ohio, written by Neil Young… it was a very fast release by any standards. I first heard it sitting in my boyfriend’s car at Golden Gardens Beach and was stunned. After all of the events of the past few days, the reality of it all hit and I was in tears.

 

This all had been building up for a while. Most kids who were eligible to be drafted to fight a war they didn’t want, were forced to go anyway. Many didn’t come back. Some that did come back were messed up for life. Others came back but “were still in Saigon”. If I had been male, I would have been one that was sent… my number based on my birth date was 10. Yet, many young women volunteered to go anyway, mostly as nurses.

In the verse, Nixon’s coming, refers to the announcement on April 30th that American troops were expanding to Cambodia, who was neutral and didn’t want to be involved in this war, after he had made a campaign promise to bring home the troops.

Nixon and Cambodia

Fifty years later, nothing has changed. Politicians are still making the same lame empty promises to get elected. We are still hurting people for no reason. And no one “wins” a fucking war.

If you want to learn more about this event and those that led up to it, I recommend these books.

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Kent State by James A Michener

This We Know by Carole Barbato, Laura Davis and Mark Seeman

67 Shots: Kent State and the End of American Innocence by Howard Means

Kent State Massacre by Charles River Editors

Surviving: A Kent State Memoir by Paula Tucker

Kent State: The Day the War Came Home by W.F. Reed… this last one is an interesting spin on the story. It’s a novel seen through the eyes of a time traveler.

Also visit the following links

Kent State Protests in Seattle

Kent State 50 Years Later

Time Magazine Kent State 49 years later

And some YouTube videos

 

 

 

First Cooking Experience

I snagged this topic from Vincent Ehindero’s blog “What was your first cooking experience

Mine was when I was 8 and had been given the Better Crocker’s Cookbook for Boys and Girls.

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I oohed and aahed at all of the recipes as I browsed through it and came across the Igloo Cake. I could do this one! I could do it for my brother’s fifth birthday. It didn’t matter that his birthday was in August, and on a hot sunny day, the igloo cake seemed perfect.

My mom helped me bake the two round layer cakes and cut them in half. We placed them on their ends to create the the igloo shape. Then we frosted it with white frosting (homemade of course) and then I used a spoon to chocolate syrup on to make the lines, however, my lines were anything but straight. But my brother was happy that I made a cake just for him and I was proud that I could almost do it all myself.

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