Coming Home

Sometimes it's hard to go back home again. And then again it's hard to come home again too. My recent trip to LA left me confused about where home was. 

Once we arrived in LA, the very sunlight struck me as familar. Oh, how I remember that bright white sunlight that shone almost every day. I felt a string being plucked like my soul was a cello resonating some deep note. But then everything also had a honeyed/tannish cast about it. The colors of LA, its roads and its landscrapes, shook me up. I had painted  for years but never with a Southern Californian palette. I guess I hide away these colors for a private inspiration or maybe as a source of grief.

I left California over 25 years ago with a heavy heart. My girlfriend and I couldn't afford to live in LA and finish our degrees at UCLA. So we chose to go to the University of Oregon to finish our degrees. We both got our degrees from the University of Oregon, but we didn't get them together. We had split up.

But of course I met another wonderful woman that I would share Oregon with as well as a cross country road trip to a life in Virginia. We were together for over 8 years and then we split up. I was left alone in Virginia. I called it home for a while even though I never really ever felt "at home."

Finally I met the love of my life, Kathleen. We set up house in Maryland. I was at loose ends for a long time in Maryland. Everything felt "off" and "odd". I was still very consumed by my former life in LA. My life in LA seemed unfinished, and I always wondered what kind of person I would have become if I had stayed there.

While DC has many drawbacks, and I've never felt appreciated here professionally, I've become a better person for working in the psychological field. If I had stayed in LA, I would have gotten sucked up into the Entertainment Industry. And then gawd only knows what the condition of my soul would be.

Now I've lived as many years outside California as I did growing up in California. And while LA can still tug at my heart and soul, I like living in Silver Spring with Kathleen, Perrier and Evian. Because with them I have a home.

Not Serena's Night

Well, Serena lost a big one in the 1st round at Roland Garros  (a record breaker for her). Kathleen and I watched the match on tape, and it just wasn't Serena's night. Maybe she just couldn't rely on her serve or paint the lines like she usually does. And then there was the French crowd, who were vocally pulling for her French opponent. Or maybe as Kathleen speculated in a moment of new age color theory, her sea green outfit while beautiful was not a fierce enough color for winning a grand slam.

But regardless of the reasons for Serena's poor performance, after a second-set tie-break that Serena lost and that left her in tears, I think our American Champion realized she wasn't going to win this one. All that remained was saving face. And so she did; she played out the match like a champion.  She lost the match but not her dignity.

Little Known Roland Garros

Everyone knows about tennis and Wimbledon. Most know about the US Open. But only a few seem to know about the Austrailian Open (maybe due to the time differences). However, only the people who "follow tennis" watch Roland Garros (aka the French Open). Oh, I've heard that the French people can be difficult and that they don't like Americans. That may be so, but I love the footage of Paris, its landscapes and cultures. And most importantly, I adore the French people's sense of style.

Voilà---Let's play tennis, my friends...

I've Been Zapped

Every time I return from a trip to LA, I engage in a compare and contrast essay that usually lasts for upwards to a week or so.  This is much to Kathleen's annoyance. My need to "process" these two coasts and two parts of my life and psyche can go on for hours (as my therapist knows oh so well). So I will be brief.
 
As an overweight middle-age woman living on the East Coast I don't get many men or women for that matter who look at me with a smile and sexual glint in their eyes.  Over the years I've missed these everyday and playful flirtations that were so much a part of my youth.
 
Well I got zapped a lot while I was in LA.  Getting zapped is when someone just says "hi" and flashes you with their eyes a look that says " I like you." I grew up with this kind of interaction all the time. It's great for the ego then and now too.  (And it makes you believe you're a hottie even if you're not...which is worth millions!!!)
 
Sure, I know, that those young men and woman most likely thought that I might be someone who could help advance their careers in the entertainment industry. But maybe not. Maybe we we just wanted to get zapped and flirt a little. And really, couldn't the world use a little more playful flirting?

Just Me

I've been on this planet for half a century. I've worked for over thirty years, and I've contributed to the greater good in many ways both personal and political. Along the way I've played many roles and had many manifestations. Now finally I get to re-create myself for me. Not for an employer, not for the lesbian community or not even for my partner.
 
As a retired person, I have no one to please but myself. I feel so liberated by this. No more peer pressure. I can dress whatever way I want. I can wear my hair in a way that pleases me. And no longer is the lesbian haircut required for identification purposes as a political activist.
 
Over the past two years, I've grown out my hair. Many lesbians of my generation no longer ID me as gay. Somehow the "lesbian haircut" made me feel like just another cookie cutter lesbian. I love having longer hair, and trust me it doesn't make me look like a femme either. Kathleen recently joked that I've now become the "Fabio among lesbians." Kathleen likes the longer hair even though she wears her hair short.
 
Becoming me means being a bit of an eccentric while trendy at the same time. I do Versace eyeglass frames and Birkenstocks in the same outfit. Sound confusing? It's not really. I'm just being me. Not a fashion plate or a political party type. Just me.

The Voice Finds Us

The Voice has nearly taken over my life on Monday and sometimes Tuesday nights. We didn't watch evening TV much until the Voice. Now we're hooked on the show's competition and who will eventually become the number one "Voice."
 
I've never watched American Idol or Dancing with the Stars. So these talent shows are still new to me. But finally, even "I  who does not watch TV" has succumbed. I mean consider our other options...ok, we've got hundreds of channels on cable but how many do you really watch? 10 to maybe 15? And of those, who nowadays wants to watch the news, sitcoms, another WWII war documentary or a silly romantic comedy on the Disney channel?
 
We've done it all before. But give us a singing competition, the American Dream, and a good show among hopefuls, and we can't get enough.
 
On the Voice, we all have our favorites who we are pulling for or even voting for. These hopefuls compete for exposure and a possible big break in the music business, such as a record contract (or maybe even more...) We want them to succeed...We want them to win! Because somehow we'll win a little too!  

Livin' The Good Life --- Cat Style

Our cats live the Good Life. Not only do they have the best in food, shelter and medical care, they have an attending Cat Goddess (or Keeper of the Cat Shrine). My beloved Kathleen administers to the cats' emotional, psychological and general well-being; she pets them constantly and talks to them all the time. (I feed them with an occasional pet here and there.)
 
Now we have a TV show for us cat lovers--"My Cat From Hell" on Animal Planet. (For a quick fix, check out the videos on the Animal Planet website.)  It showcases Jackson Galaxy, who is an eccentric yet charming (of course) cat whisperer by day and a musician by night. He visits distressed companions of cats and offers rehabilitative solutions for their cats'  psychological issues. This show is fascinating if you're into the psychology of cats.
 
Kathleen made me watch six episodes back-to-back one Saturday. She's hooked on the show and now follows Jackson Galaxy advice like some people follow their Sunday minister's sermon. One example is when Jackson encouraged companions of older cats to take their cat into the vet for once-a-year check-ups. All of a sudden our Perrier was listless (which she was--it was winter). Perrier went to our vet and came out with a clean bill of health that cost over $350. We were happy but a little unhappy about the bill---does it really cost so much to tell me our cat is healthy?
 
But the best advice we got from Jackson Galaxy focuses on the importance of cat trees for kitties. We already had one, but it was old, frayed from clawing and just generally very used. So Kathleen went shopping on the internet and found one of the best cat trees that money can buy. She even assembled it (without cursing or meltdowns). And it looks beautiful.
 
The new cat tree took a little while for our kitties to claim. But it's now theirs. Unfortunately, the cats won't part with the old cat tree. So now the cats have their own furniture in our living room.
 
So I guess you could say Kathleen comes with cats. And I love her for it too.

Friends Are Asking For More…

I had no idea that I would still be blogging Forgetful After Fifty. Somehow the muses have remained faithful to me and have whispered sweet inspirations on a regular schedule. I am just these comedic muses' typist, and sometimes I wish I could type faster to keep up with them.  But my slow typing gives both the muses and me ample room to edit as we go. And we go a little here and a little there until finally we have sentences, paragraphs, and lastly, a posting.

But this isn’t funny, you say. True, even my cats are funnier than writing about writing. You’re right---It’s really boring.

But you must understand that we writers fret about process and are amazed by its mysterious qualities like gleaming gems in sunlight. The best of us and the worst of us live for those moments when we are entranced or just “channeling” some muses’ work which we later claim as our own.

Basically, we writers don’t understand what we are doing but we do it nonetheless.

So I’m going to keep doing it,. Hopefully, my muses will be funnier in the next posting. Maybe I'll get back to funny basics: CATS.

I Want to Play Keyboards

I love music. I listen to it almost every waking moment. Well something at least that most of us would consider music. But do I "know it" or "understand it"? Not at all. When I played a little (and I mean a little) piano when I was in high school, I learned to read music well enough to be in the school's choir. That was the extent of my musical education.

Since then, I've bought and played over 700 CDs. Oh, I have my favorites, but I'm also proud of my range in musical tastes---from Opera to Pop or as artists go from Mozart to Buddha Bar.

But I also want to play an instrument. My voice is old, thin and has got more "grit" in it from cigarettes than a rock quarry. So the voice is out. I've decided that I want to get an electronic keyboard because we have no room for a piano, which is my first choice.

I want to play keyboards. Take lessons. Practice when Kathleen's home. And drive her up the walls. (Gee, I hope I won't be that bad, but you know I will be.)

If you think I can take lessons at 50 years of age and learn to play the keyboards, give me a "like" in the comments section. But don't worry. I'll still blog. I don't think I really have got a serious future as a rocker!

Name Something Wonderful After Me

You know, everyone wants something named after them...a street, a building or a song. Well, I got something named after me. That's right, "Diane's Large Economy Shower Cap." It was so ugly. It looked like something you'd see in a surgical ward. I think next time I'm gonna go after a street...in a nice residential area.