Sparked by making this notebook, I've been going through old photo albums, and old digital pictures that I have stored on Photoworks. I scanned some of the paper ones, and downloaded some of the e-files, and I have been using them to make collages on greeting cards, as well as albums on facebook. (Where they are generating lots of commentary.)

I came across this photo, of me and a Seward Johnson statue in downtown Albany:



I see there is an exhibit this year as well.

Since yesterday, I been wanting to write about these four sentences in this post.

The gesture she makes at her own hair, just before she clams up, is not, I think, a mean girl's I'm-so-gorgeous primp. It's comic business that would have fit amusingly with the wisecrack that was never cracked. My friend, a woman who, like Fiorina, has recently regrown hair, feels sure she has the ability to recognize a shared dark humor about hair that women who have not gone through the experience don't pick up on. Hair is a big deal to women, and our ears perk up when we hear talk about other women's hair. [emphasis added]

I decided not to comment because the conversation was centered around whether it was not a joke but an insult, Fiorina's qualifications, how distractions hurt discussions about policy positions, and whether it's tacky or appropriate to bring up cancer.

Is hair very trivial in comparison to some of that commentary, and a little more trivial than most of it? Undoubtedly, but hair is what's been on my mind. I'm not a tabloid-reading pop culture addict, I just agree with the bolded sentence. Hair is important. I think it is important to men, too. (Yes, maybe not as important.) What's more, women's hair is important to men. (And yes, men's is important to women, but maybe not as important.)

Back to the hair twirl. It didn't strike me as either primping or a prop. I am not sure where she was going with her remarks, whether she had a punchline. Maybe not. What I saw in the gesture was self-consciousness about hair.

Not a political endorsement (and I don't live in CA anyway, so what difference does it make?), but I like Fiorina's hair. Reminds me a bit of my own. I've always loved my hair. It is a stylist's dream, will do anything. I've had it very long, long, medium, short, and short-short. Sometimes when it is short-short (or even short) I get a flash of self-consciousness, even though I prefer my hair very short.

In recent years, the grey has been creeping in. I resolved to never dye it, and I never will. (OK, when I was about 30, in an act of rebellion, I had a patch at my temple stripped and dyed purple - sadly, it was a disaster. But that isn't the same thing.) Again, there are times when I have a flash of self-consciousness. I ask myself, maybe a woman my age should still have solid black hair? Or people will assume I am a lot older, because they never see women my age with grey (or even salt and pepper) hair?

I do not mean at all to liken this fleeting feeling to a woman's (or man's) experience with hair loss and regrowth due to chemotherapy. I've known several women in that position, I can only imagine what they were going through. I'd have to concede to their superior knowledge on the shared dark humor of hair loss.

Society does have expectations about hair. Both men and women internalize them. The idea that long hair (especially on young women) is sexy, feminine. Blondes v. brunettes v. redheads. Natural curly hair v. straightened hair. Bald men. Beards and mustaches. The rebellion of the '20s, with women cutting their long tresses. Perms. Dyed hair. Sideburns. Farrah. Tweezing, shaving, waxing, electrolysis. Shaved heads, mullets, mohawks.

There is something special and vibrant expressed when women who are undergoing chemotherapy wear a wild headscarf, or boldly take off their wigs, revealing baldness, or a cute undyed pixie. I remember Aunt Jean wore a white cap with flowery ruffles to Bob's graduation. Yes, I believe there is something darkly humorous about it that outsiders may appreciate, but maybe only others in the "club" can really identify with it.

Back to the bolded sentence above, which made me think of another hair story (again, nothing as dramatic as a cancer survivor's tale). A couple of years ago, my sister decided it was time to make the transition from Kiwi (as our brother called her) to natural. She'd started to go grey at about age 30, as Mimmie had, although unlike Mimmie, she dyed it black. After she had a grandchild, I think being a grey haired lady didn't seem so bad. Also, being grey in one's 50s isn't quite the same as being grey in one's 30s.

It took a year, but she did it. In that year, her hair was every blend of colors you can imagine. Her hair was the focus of so much attention, and a subject of conversation nearly every day in West Shokan. All people could talk about was her hair! Some loved it and some hated it, and said so! The transition is long over now, and her hair has settled into salt and pepper (mostly salt) and it looks great.

Back in January, she came to Bob's 50th birthday, and saw a couple of my friends whom she had not seen in years. After everyone who was traveling a distance left, we chatted for a while with our friends, caught them up on Bob's surgeries, etc. But what was the first and hottest topic? My sister's hair!!

Finally, this reminds me of this post, specifically this excerpt (written October 9, 1982):

As soon as I reached the age of reason, I rushed for the tweezers and plucked out practically all of my eyebrows. Or maybe that should be “eyebrow,” because I was, after all, only born with one.

Maybe it is time to join our “rebellious” sisters and let our hair all grow out. Truly, I despise the society which made sleek, smooth calves the prerequisite for femininity. But I am not among those who can break from tradition and proudly display what nature has given me intact. I admire those women, but I am somewhat too susceptible to popular opinion.

How sad! I hope she is found. Help find a lost dog.

Paragallo: Pictures of sick horses biased abuse trial -- Page 1 -- Times Union - Albany NY

Why is this creep out? Makes me sick.

Wow, hot today!! The seeds are up. A critter ate the coleus. (Odd. First time that has happened. What eats coleus besides bugs?) Some of my wonderful flowers:

Almost forgot, Bob had his eight week follow up, and is healing well physically. Still restricted - no more than 10 pounds of lifting, no more exercise than short walks three times per week, no extreme dieting.

I'm a person who likes silence. Or maybe I should make that natural sounds - I can hear birds chirping outside of my window, and that is nice. I don't play music very often when I am working on my classes, gardening or cleaning the house, and the sound of the television annoys me when I am not in the room. I tolerate NPR because Bob likes it and he is not a person to be disturbed by music, television or radio (in fact he prefers to have it on), but I never have the radio on when he isn't home. I just can't stand the sound of all the chattering, even when it is a program I like - it distracts me too much from my own thoughts.

Today I was thinking how much I hate it when I hear a plane fly over. It is a noise that really bugs me, and sometimes I even feel a little afraid, like it is going to crash into my house.

I knew a guy in college who lived near the airport, either JFK or LaGuardia, can't remember which. He said you had to be insane to live there, and that after many years in their house, his parents WERE crazy. Shouting, and always on edge. I don't think the fear of having a plane crash in your neighborhood is what he meant, more the deafening noise and constant rattling of the house. Luckily I don't hear planes fly over very often, but even at that, it is an irritating sound when it happens.

On the other hand, I just heard the train go by, and that doesn't bother me a bit. It's an almost romantic sound, the whistle blows as it rushes through the village, it is historic. I am not close enough to the tracks for my house to rattle, the way they do on Main Street. Probably if I lived down there, I would not like it as much. But I still doubt it would annoy me as much as the airplane sound.

Paterson: State layoff schedule could be moved up -- Page 1 -- Times Union - Albany NY.

News flash to Governor Paterson: SHUT UP. I am so tired of his constant BS. He can whine all he wants about trying to be responsible and the state's fiscal situation. Yes, I know there is a kernel of truth in his chicken little rantings. But he is responsible for eroding public confidence. He is responsible for the damage his constant hysterics generate. Why he hates state workers is beyond me. Why did he agree to run with Spitzer anyway? I really wish he (Paterson) was running for Governor this year so I could have the pleasure of seeing him go down to historic defeat.

BTW, I've very proud that my student evaluations give me and my courses over 4.5 out of 5 every semester. Right now, I have 50 students in my summer session class. Even with the summer large enrollment incentive (keep in mind there is no guarantee I will get it), that translates to $106 per student. Meanwhile, the State takes in $31,050 for the class, not including fees. In the summer I use zero state resources; I bought my computer, my office is in my house, my telephones are just that - mine. All my supplies come from Staples. I buy a lot of educational materials (books, videos) every semester that I share with students. Do I get reimbursed for any of that? No.

I know it probably sounds like I am complaining, but I'm really not. I feel very lucky to work from home in the summer, to get time to garden, write, read, and be with my animals, and to have an intellectually stimulating job all year that suits me better than any I've had in the past. My pay may not be what I could get in other positions (although "it's not a bad way to make a living," as my father would say), but I get great benefits.

However, I am tired of being among the group of people that Paterson (and non-public sector workers) regularly target for ridicule. What I am doing is practically volunteer work, and the State makes money from my labor. Just because I enjoy it and am good at it, doesn't mean I don't deserve to be paid! And I certainly don't warrant the constant negative characterizations and endless threats that come out of the Governor's mouth.

So chill out. Then do us all a favor and go away.

I am going to do this walk. It will be my first effort since spraining my ankle last year (although as I've written many times recently, in that same year my arms have gotten stronger from lifting etc.). Hope the weather is as nice as it is today!

Taking advantage of the beautiful day - I am going to put up the fence around the garden. Yesterday we attempted to go strawberry picking, but got rained out. So we bought two quarts at a farm stand, and plan to try again on Friday.

I have a draft story / snippet about strawberry pickin' and Mimmie - it was something she loved. Someday I will work on it more, get it into shape, and try to get it published.

Ande has developed a strange odor. I am at a loss, since Edna never had a single issue when she was young. Or old, for that matter. He seems fine otherwise, he is eating and active, but he doesn't seem to be grooming much. I've never had a pet with white fur who wasn't OCD about keeping it immaculate. He is very docile and lets me wipe him with a wet washcloth, which helps a little, but I am not sure where the stink is coming from - but it could be his face. I treated his ears, looked in his mouth and don't see anything obvious.

Lately there have been several stories in the news about high school seniors doing extreme pranks at their high schools. I am sure all of us remember pranks on Halloween, or after prom or graduation, but as I recall, the majority were pretty harmless, of the toilet paper variety. I admit, as an adult, toilet papering annoys me, but it isn't that big of a deal. Kids will be kids. Occasionally in my day there may have been an act of vandalism, but I don't remember that happening often, especially not at the school itself. So what is going on with these kids?

I stopped ignoring prompts from Blogger to change my template. I am afraid it is too busy, but I have spent enough time fooling with it already!

Yesterday I finally finished planting! It was a long day of hard work in the hot sun. Should have had someone take a picture of me at 7 pm, before I showered! What a sight! I knew the weather forecast had been changed to rain for both days of the weekend, so I only had one day to rototill, weed whack, and plant seeds. I didn't want to wait until next week to get in the cucumbers and beans, since it is very late already. I also cut back a lot of trees and bushes. Nature really takes over! I expected to be crippled up today, but I am not at all. Bob's long recovery has worked wonders for my fitness level.

And...the fat kitty got a home! Yay!

A couple of links today...

My niece and her husband guest posted this story about food and celebration on his cousin's foodie blog (which has a great name, btw).

And here's more on that fat cat -- he actually weighs 36 pounds! They put him up for adoption today.

The MHRHS recently took in a 30 pound stray cat. Here's a funny take on the story. (Note to animal lovers, that second link is not at all offensive, just in case you are worried.)

Added: More details here.

About all the dogs do at this point is sleep on their new LL Bean dog beds. What great product that company sells! Here's Sam on his green bed.

We took Amtrak to NYC Saturday, went to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, walked down to see Freedom Tower (as Mark Twain wrote, it is 15 or so floors of the "bones" of the building at this point), and had dinner with Bob's brother, sister-in-law, and second cousin (who is visiting from Germany) at Nobu.

The museum is worth the trip! Wonderful social history. We saw the tour "The Moores" about an Irish family who immigrated right during the big wave caused by the potato famine. I chose that tour because the three of us (me, Bob, my brother-in-law) are each 1/4 Irish. Their paternal grandmother and my maternal grandmother were all Irish. I am not sure when their grandma's family came to the US, but Mimmie's grandparents were immigrants who I am sure came here due to the famine.

It was hotter than you-know-what, but I could have seen all the tours back-to-back. They take an hour each. I'm not at all heat tolerant, but there are a few activities I love to do so much, such as gardening or visiting museums and historic sites, where the heat barely is on my radar screen.

The docent (who was top notch) mentioned that the neighborhood declined and then gentrified after the building was boarded up in 1935, so that an apartment nearby now is almost completely out of reach for new immigrants. I was struck, as I have been many times in the past while sitting in my own house, that the flip side to gentrification's impact on poor and working class people is that highly educated professionals then lived in mansions, but now live in the tiny little spaces formerly inhabited by factory workers and domestic staff.

One container tomato in, three to go. Today I planted some basil seeds (that came free on boxes of Triscuits), and weed whacked the yard (again!) too. Had to replace the string on the weed whacker, that was a first. It wasn't too difficult. Sunday I hope to rototill the garden, plant cucumber and bean seeds, and the remaining three container tomatoes, then I'm done planting. Wow, it's hot out there!!

Now Betty is the "last man standing!"

I hope to hear more details of this incredible story!

I finally planted! Finished the flowers and herbs, still have to plant the container tomatoes and rototill so I can put in cucumbers and green beans. Keeping my fingers crossed that the blight misses me, and the weather is better this summer than last.

I read the referenced letter in this morning's TU and agreed completely with the writer. I've noticed this too, in the endless ads from lobby groups that are on television right now because of the budget crisis, and in the rhetoric from various candidates. It's an example of reification, a type of generalization.

This was taken at the parade in West Shokan. I couldn't be there this year :-(, but here is a link to Christmas Paper, a somewhat related story I wrote that appeared in the Daily Freeman four years ago.

Sophie loves her new dog LL Bean dog bed!


I just bought a third dog bed in a week. Problem: the hotdog is having a hard time jumping on the couch. She's 11, getting old for a Basset. I have to lift her, and she's heavy and not all that cooperative. All our current dog beds are cheap, worn out, and/or too small. She hated the first one that I bought online (not from LL Bean, rather from a company that I often use to buy pet supplies, but her hatred has nothing to do with the quality, and it isn't the company's fault (plus they are taking it back), so I will leave them out of it), and there was lots of drama. Second one was bought impulsively at the LL Bean store, and she loves it.

But more drama followed; Sam also wants it, so Sophie hides under bed. Ergo, identical LL Bean bed was ordered online and it came today. Make that nearly identical, luckily they don't seem to mind that they are different colors. (Sam's is green.)