A comic of Comics...

My little one and I spent the day together, just the two of us. One of the things we did was to make use of our photo editing gadget and tell a story comic-book style. What a blast we had. I cannot remember laughing so hard. She made up a terrific story that was fun and funny, witty and clever! What a thrill or me to see this very special story-telling talent in her!

The icing on the proverbial cake was at bedtime, when I was tucking her in. She pulled me close and whispered in my ear that she had written in her diary about our day together and put her writing into her special things box as a keepsake memory along with the comic.

It just does not get better than this!

Carol

I HAVE BEEN RELEASED!

I still don't like getting old but this somewhat puts it in perspective. While I did not write it, I could have and indeed have often written things so much like it that when I received it today, I thought it was mine, having made the cyber-rounds and come back to me. Frankly, I am still not altogether sure.

~o0o~

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question that I would ponder and let her know.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 and 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over the memory of a lost love .. I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances and foolhardy snickers from the young'uns.

They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And eventually I remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? Broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (But ony if I feel like it!)

PILOT's FOLLY

Every once in a while, I receive these emails just like everyone else. I decided to share the one that arrived today because, as someone who enjoys flitting about the globe as much as I do, it is one of my all time favorites. I'd read it a few years ago, when it was attributed to Quantas Air Lines, and enjoyed it just as much today as I did then. Maybe moreso. (Thanks Cat and Jess!)

If you've read it before, or if you're reading it for the first time...

Enjoy!

Remember it takes a college degree to fly a plane, but only a high school diploma to fix one. Reassurance for those of us who fly routinely in our jobs.

After every flight, UPS (United Parcel Service) has their pilots fill out a form, called a "gripe sheet," which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems, document their repairs on the form, and then the pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight. Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by UPS pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers.

By the way, UPS is the only major airline that has never, ever, had an accident.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit
S: Something tightened in cockpit

P: Dead bugs on windshield.
S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent
S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
S: That's what friction locks are for.

P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode.
S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windshield.
S: Suspect you're right.

P: Number 3 engine missing.
S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny. (I love this one!)
S: Aircraft warned to: straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.
S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

P: Mouse in cockpit.
S: Cat installed.


And the best one for last..................

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.
S: Took hammer away from midget.

Hope that made you smile!
Have a great day. I will post more tomorrow.

Carol

STILL BEANMUSED After All These Months...

I had a wonderful email discussion a few days ago with an online friend about roles in which we might like to see Sean Bean.

I have given this a lot of thought (too much thought, if I am to be truthful) and have decided that I would like to see Sean Bean in the part of Robert Langdon (the Tom Hanks role) in The DaVinci Code.

Now before you go off getting your knickers in a knot, hear me out: I quite enjoyed The DaVinci Code. Thought it was done beautifully. In fact, it was a complete mystery to me that some reviewers claim to have been disappointed that it was not a more action packed, race 'em/chase 'em kind of film. Apparently, they'd been looking for a more exciting theatrical experience. But I found it intelligent and thought provoking, just like the book. For action and excitement, I was extremely satisfied with National Treasure, which conveniently brings me back to Sean Bean.

First off, I think he and Ron Howard might have enjoyed and benefited greatly from working together. If you consider they are both genius in their work and add the notion that they appear to maintain polar opposite ideas of what is entertaining, and combine that with what we already know about their work ethic and ability to listen to and value professional, artistic input from each other, it's clear that a collaboration between these two would have made for a spectacular outcome.

TDC certainly would have been a very different film with Sean Bean as Langdon. For starters, the complete lack of sexual tension between the male and female leads would have provided such powerful anxiety... well, I believe it would have provided the catapult Bean so desperately needs for US filmmakers to catch on to his steamy screen prowess. It's no secret that they need their hands held. (Overall, with the obvious exceptions of Lucas, Spielberg, and Howard, they do not know what they are doing.)

So let's give Sean a wonderful story with a role such as Robert Langdon and have him walk them through it, shall we?

As indicated in my role preference scenario, let's have Sean escort the audience on a sensual journey where the aforementioned sexual tension is perceived by the audience instead of splashed boringly across the screen as he is oft required to do... I am stressing the profoundness of the cliche "why buy the cow when one can get the milk for free?". Instead of giving it up in nearly every film, this time I'd like to see Bean leave them wanting more. The clearly male notion that nudity is always what the audience wants is such a foolhardy insult to the intellect and creative imagination of the audience! Someone else's interpretation is never as good as one's own.

Picture this win/win outcome: Instead of exiting theaters fanning feverishly while announcing that Sean Bean is hot, women will instead be exiting theaters completely unaware, at first, that they will not be able to get him out of their heads. Their clamoring to see him again will most assuredly catch the watchful eyes of the powers-that-be who will then pat themselves black and blue on their collective backs while their brazenly expensive PR firms denominate the ensuing pandemonium: The Sean Bean Phenomenon! Oh lordy, I can see it all now!

CHECK AND MATE!

THEN... On the heels of that, I would like to see him in the role I believe to have been written for him.

My ultimate dream part for Sean Bean...

In a perfect world, Sean would play Jamie Fraser in *OUTLANDER which would be produced by the BBC as a series of about 12 films and run over a period of somewhere between six months to a year. He would start as a young Sean (think Storyteller) and magically age 20 years at the appropriate time. If anyone could do this, it's Sean Bean. I would trust no one else to play a much beloved character such as Jamie Fraser. (Oh and I, of course, would be Claire Randall Fraser. *cough, chortle, cough* This is in a perfect world, right?)

It would have to be the BBC because they are infinitely more responsible with literature than US film makers. Sad but blatantly true.


Carol
Anyone have Sean Bean's phone number? I owe him a couple of Thank You's anyway...
*Outlander By Diana Gabaldon

The ACCIDENTAL SONG!

It never fails to escape me that, thanks to the Internet and blogs, I am now able to broadcast my disdain when service is not what it ought to be. Just last week, for instance, I ranted, raved and, in general, blathered on about AT&T, Verizon, Sears and other assorted retailers. My complete dissatisfaction with a local bank had not escaped publication either.

For me, an entire topic of eternal questions keeping me awake at night is: When did the customer become the enemy? In that mental folder, if you will, I place all the little questions that bog me down, like: Don’t they want to sell their product to me? Why do they hate me so? How much of my phone battery must I use up listening to their adverts and holding-on before I get to ask my question?

I think, therefore, that it is only fair to make an announcement:
There are still some folks who not only excel at customer service, they truly enjoy what they do.

(No, this is not a fantasy/science fiction entry, why do you ask?)


___________________________



This afternoon, I stepped outside to find that I had a flat tire. Disgruntled, I dialed the number for Audi Roadside Assistance. I had purchased the contract when I bought my car and this was my first time needing to use it. I wondered if it would be worth the trouble. In the past, whenever I needed a service of this kind, I usually ended up so aggravated that I ended up calling a garage on my own and paying for the help I needed rather than deal with my insurance company's so-called customer service. Enough said about that, because today was different.

Today, Jessica answered the phone on the first ring and was about as pleasant as a cool fresh breeze on a sweltering summer day. (Oh, hush. I know it’s cliché. It is also true!) She took my particulars in record time without once asking me to repeat anything, not even the lengthy, often confusing alpha/numeric Vehicle Identification Number. Impressed, I could feel my eyebrows rise and my chin lower as she confidently moved on to the next series of questions. We confirmed that I was indeed who I said I was, and then began the inch-by-inch identification process of the vehicle itself. With all that asked and answered, she repeated the car’s physical description back to me, inadvertently making it rhyme. My quiet chortle was not lost on her. Before I knew it, we had ourselves in stitches trying unsuccessfully to one-up each other.

Don't believe me? Here is a partial result of our efforts:

I had me a flat tire today
Wait'n for me on my Gunmetal Gray
Oh-4 A-4 Cabriolet!

If there's one thing I cannot abide
Smirking at me when I get to my ride,
Oh drat! 'S a flat! Left front. Driver side!

We went on for some time, but I don't need to write it all; you get the picture.

Corny? Yes. Fun? You bet. Now this might not sound like much to you, but from my point of view, it was positively brilliant! Hell, I had a flat tire. When I initiated the call, I was upset at the inconvenience and worried that I was facing the possibility that I would need to make a very expensive, unbudgeted purchase. By the time my call with Jessica reached its conclusion, I was happy and, quite frankly, over it. She made me laugh and I appreciated that.

Well done, Jessica!

I am not even going to tell you about how breathtakingly handsome and charming the mechanic was... or that he showed up at my house in ten minutes, fixed the car in five, and refused a tip. I'm figuring I must have done something good somewhere this past week...

CM

*Disclaimer: My only affiliation with Audi is that I am a customer.

©2007 Carol Marsella. Carol Marsella grants Boggles the Mind, Newprose, and its affiliates non-exclusive rights to display this work. This article may not be used or distributed electronically or in print without express permission from the author.

CAN'T HELP MYSELF...

I am so delighted with this video of Sean Bean, my muse for Logan...
He is on ABC's ROSIE O'DONNELL SHOW discussing LORD OF THE RINGS: THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING



Thanks to Destiny for this!

I particularly like the end where he says, "I'll have another one" and then plays with the action figures like a little boy... I saw a clip of Ian McKellen doing the same thing with his action figure from LOTR... Absolutely charming. (Steve would do the same thing...) Uh... wouldn't those action figures be lovely items for my keepsake box?

You Tube Credit goes to: mirorimij (Title: Sean Bean Interview)

--o0o--

Next up is a video of him being interviewed by FRANK SKINNER in two parts. These are hilarious. Looked like both men had a terrific time with this and I enjoyed them immensely. Give 'em a look. Love the action figure play again. Sean makes reference to the one he received from Rosie.



YouTube Credit for the Frank Skinner Interview Parts 1 & 2 goes to: Govi20

I was truly captivated while Sean Bean spoke of his decision to become an actor...



Once again, I have to thank Destiny for these.

ROMANCE ON CAPE COD (With a Chaser!)

It's been a while since I have blogged here.

Been away for a while. Steve surprised me with a trip to Cape Cod, just the two of us. It was romantic, magical, and refreshing. We slept in every morning, walked streets lined with art galleries and specialty shops filled with seashore momentoes, read books without interruptions, and made love before during and after ...

It's funny how one forgets how exciting, and renewing it is to simply make love at random, unscheduled, typically unusual times in random, unscheduled, tyypically unusual places. I seem to have fallen in love with him all over again.

Will write more as soon as I come back to reality but, frankly, I am resisting the return.

Carol, in love...

PS: Steve and I met up with Chase and Jordan. What a hoot! We had a blast with them! Will write more about that and Cape Cod another day.

An Excerpt from BEHIND THE WALL

Logan pulled his SUV up to the little cottage, turned off the ignition and sat in silence for a moment or two before disembarking and approaching the door. When there was no response to his knock, reflexively he tried the latch; it was unlocked. He toyed briefly with the idea of coming back later but the simple truth of it was that he could not leave. Knowing this might upset Cassie yet unable to reconcile his feelings of trepidation and longing, Logan entered her house.

As he moved through the vestibule and into the hallway, even though it had been less than two weeks since he'd been there, he had the bitter sweet sensation of the distant warmth and familiarity one experiences when he visits the childhood home he'd left long ago.

With a barrage of memories assailing him, he moved through the darkened cottage. His breath caught in his throat as he stepped into the library alcove. The overstuffed sofa where they had so often lain entwined reading and discussing books was unnervingly disheveled, its down-filled pillows tossed to the floor. The woven silk blanket Cassie had always treated with such care had been wadded like a piece of crumbled paper and likewise discarded, shoved under the table. Standing menacingly close to the edge was a bottle of Pinot Grigio, opened but untouched. One of the glasses they had bought at the estate sale was lying on its side in the center of the table, its rim cracked. He smiled resolutely as he bent down and, with a gentle puff of his breath, extinguished a double-wicked candle that had been carelessly left burning. Next to it he eyed a book of matches and a silver bowl containing an obscure love note Jamie had written to Cassie and several photos of the two of them. The antique pewter frame in which Cassie had encased her favorite photo of Jamie had been taken apart, its pieces discarded haphazardly; there was no sign of the photo. Logan sat on the sofa, leaned back and heaved a heavy sigh as he assessed the scene laid out before him. Eventually his gaze made its way to the fireplace. He hadn't noticed until now that the painting of the cottage was missing from its perch above the mantle, the poker likewise missing from its hook.

As he entered the living room he discovered the missing poker lying on the floor in the center of the room, its pointed end proximal to the painting which had been set upright with its back against the settee. A disbelieving breath escaped Logan's lips as he drew his hand to his brow and down the length of his face. He blinked back the moisture in his eyes and cleared his throat as he continued his survey of every gut wrenching detail.

As he continued numbly through the house, he found the kitchen uncharacteristically pristine, though the aloe plant was in dire need of water. The sun-room door to the garden had been left wide open. He descended the three steps to close it but as the cool night air caressed him, he suddenly turned and hastened back though the house to the stairway that led to Cassie's bedroom.

He bounded the steps as though he were being chased but he paused at the top and entered cautiously. He closed his eyes as he basked in the scent of her perfume. The moonlight glaring through her window illuminated the bed which looked as though it had not been touched since he'd been there, except that this pillow had been removed. So had the patchwork blanket he'd given her. Overtaken by vivid memories of the two of them wrestling in the throws of passion, he sat on the bed taking her pillow into his arms. Clutching it to his middle, he rocked inconsolably, his flooding eyes fixed on the crescent moon.

Resolved to being systematically eliminated from her life, a despairing Logan eventually made his way back downstairs. He'd decided to leave her alone; he would not hurt her anymore.

Mechanically, he located a small box from the studio and began to pack some of his things: Paintbrushes, CD's, his camera, a couple of shirts. He remembered the small photo of the two of them that Cassie had kept on the windowsill in the kitchen and went to retrieve it; it was a surefire bet she would not miss it.

He hadn't intended to touch anything except to take his things, but the drooping aloe plant was begging for water. Believing she would not notice, he removed it from the sill, lowered it to the basin and was instantly afforded a clear view of the garden and his easel. It dawned on him how much he'd invested in this relationship. He'd never given himself over to anyone like this. He had made this woman his reason for living and her little cottage his home. Refusing harborage to the pain that once again threatened to overtake him, he let the water run into the watering can to set, relieved the plant of a dead stalk and decided he needed to remove the easel. She'd probably be grateful to be rid of it.

He shook the water off his hands, dried them on the dishtowel and made his way to the garden. As he began to turn the wing nut on the easel, he was distracted by a rustling sound behind him. Turning toward it, he was stunned by what he saw.




~~~~~~~





There was Cassie sound asleep in the Victorian hammock with the patchwork quilt hanging off her legs. He furrowed his brow as he moved silently toward her drinking in the sight. Looking down at her, his eyes widened as his heart broke with joy. She was wearing the white nightgown he'd bought for her, her loosened hair cascading over her shoulders. She was clutching his pillow to her breast and in her right hand she held the deframed photo of Jamie that had been her favorite. Two of the DVD's that had been sent to her in that cursed box were on her lap still in their sealed cases. Unable to help himself, Logan bent down and kissed her tenderly on her forehead. "I'm here now," he whispered. She turned toward his kiss and sleepily sighed affirmation that she had heard him, "Jamie..."

He lifted the blanket over her being careful not to wake her, left the easel where it was, and made his way to the house. His eyes softened and the corner of his mouth lifted as he turned around to look at her before stepping inside. He would come back in the morning.

As he was deciding whether to place his things back from where he'd retrieved them, he heard the garden door open and close.

Cassie had awakened and wrapped herself in the blanket. Momentarily unsure whether she was still dreaming as she entered to find him standing in her library, she beamed at the sight of him. "Jamie!" She cried as he turned toward her, his arms outstretched. But her bright eyes and beaming smile vanished as the agonizing reality of all that had transpired between them hit hard. Her voice caught in her throat as she corrected herself. "Jamie... Lo--gan... Jamm... Oh my God," she sobbed bitterly, "I don't even know your name. I don't know what to call you..." She stepped toward him and with her open palms began to pound upon upon his chest. "You bastard... Why did you do this to me? Why? What kind of a man are you? I loved him... You bastard. How could you..." She raised her fisted hands into the air as though she wanted to strike him but froze, incapable of doing so.

Logan grabbed her wrists to calm her. His proximity and his touch were unbearably painful to her. Cassie tried to pull away from him but as she turned to twist out of his grasp, she merely succeeded in wrapping his arms around her. With Logan holding her wrists, her arms crossed against her chest and her back drawn into him, the warmth of his body penetrated her hysteria. She no longer had any fight left in her. Her knees buckled as she collapsed into his embrace, utterly broken, desperately mourning the loss of Jamie. "I can't do this. It hurts too much," her sobs turning to whimpers. "This is my nightmare... How could you... This is my nightmare."

Logan cradled her softly whispering words of comfort as he gently lowered himself to the floor. Emboldened by the realization that she had not stopped loving him, he kissed her face as he stroked her hair. "I'm here now; it's all right. Don't cry, Cassie. It's going to be all right now." It was him she loved and there would be a way to show her that. This was not the end for them; he would see to it.


CM
Copyright © 2007 Carol Marsella, BEHIND THE WALL. Newprose.org. All rights reserved.

FOOTBALL, FLOODS, and FORGOTTEN GRATITUDE

So not only do they bet on the outcome of the games, they also bet on the outcome of the verdict. No, this is not news. The interesting news appears just below:

Just saw this on: READABET dot COM

A gamble is developing on the possibility of a 21-team Premiership next season, according to Ladbrokes.

Sheffield United learn their fate next week and plenty of the Harrow-based firm's punters are anticipating good news for the Blades - an extended top flight has been backed into 4/1 from 5/1.

Ladbrokes spokesman, Nick Weinberg, said: "The curtain appears to be coming down on the Carlos Tevez saga. And our customers certainly think there's a very real possibility of an encore for Sheffield United next term."

The Blades are 7/2 to go further than West Ham in the FA Cup and the same price to last longer in next season's League Cup.

It would be so nice to see this thing come properly to fruition. I want things to stay as fair as possible in Football. I know it's far more trendy to let money rule the game.. but then where is the sport?

While we are all on pins and needles awaiting this outcome, Steve and our son James in particular, will be so happy if Sheffield United is returned to Premiership Status. And Steve could use a little sunshine just now. Meanwhile, I am grateful for the public stance that fairness will prevail.

Until the official announcement, we still wait.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

On another note, we were a little red-faced and a lot guilt stricken after we complained that the rain we experienced the other evening caused our newly stained deck to become sticky and need redoing. News from the UK of the flooding in England as well as news across the US of the flooding on and about the Texas/Oklahoma border put us back in our place right quick! Made us realize that we should not need reminders in order to be thankful for all that we have! So sad to see so many folks put out of their homes. My hopes and prayers for those involved are that family members are not separated from one another as they were in New Orleans. Knowing my Steve, we'll be involved in clean up somewhere!

In New Jersey, we have had bits of rain on and off for the past week, but it's been a pleasant respite from the unusually high temperatures. The rain has also assured that the flora are magnificent this year; for that I am truly thankful. Matter of fact, I am headed out to the gardens right now... with a spirit of gratitude...



Stay safe!
CM
--
Alba go bragh!

"Life is no brief candle. It's a sort of splendid torch, so make it burn as bright as possible." --George Bernard Shaw

JUST INCASE YOU NEED A LITTLE INSPIRATION

This man singing is Paul Potts.



jacero10 said: (And I most emphatically agree!)
One thing that comes to me, after being focused on this performance for the past week, is the need to be in regular contact with beauty in whatever form that may mean for each of us. It is time to turn off our tv's and actually live our own lives, pursue our hobbies, take long walks in the country with friends and loved ones. This is what the technogimmick centered modern world is so hungering for!!

Hope that lifted your spirits and encouraged & inspired you as it has me.

CM