When we lived in Switzerland and just across the border in France in the late 1990s and early 2000s, one of the biggest problems was finding healthcare. Now I realize that I worked at the World Health Organization, but the docs there were researchers, primarily, meeting goers-to-ers. They weren’t your every day heal-the-sick kind of doctors.
In addition to not knowing the ropes of a foreign system, there was the language barrier. I mean, frankly, it is difficult to describe illnesses in English — I always feared that I would go in with a sore throat and end up without an important body part. I didn’t realize that that could happen right here in the good old U.S. of A. In fact, that just happened recently when a man went in for a routine procedure and, ummm, had a life changing event. Allegedly.
So in 2002, we moved home to the U.S. where I could communicate and get medical treatment for $197,238.73 per word.
Today, though, I’m rethinking that decision. Maybe we acted in haste. Maybe we should have thought twice or three times. Maybe we should go back.
No, I’m not sick. In fact, with my English-speaking doctors I’m doing quite well.
But there is one thing that I could get in France that I cannot get here: wine.
PARIS – A hospital in the French city of Clermont-Ferrand is to open a wine bar where terminally ill patients will be able to enjoy a “medically-supervised” glass or two with their families.
Vive la France, where the terminally ill can get “medically supervised” alcoholic beverages. I hear the wine is to die for.
UPDATE!!!
If I DO go back to die with wine in my hand/throat/tummy, somebody else needs to pick it out. I have an amazing skill crafted while living inside of or within spitting distance of France.
I can go into any store in France and leave with a bottle of awful wine. It’s a talent. A gift. Not many folks can claim it.
One of my first bloggin’ buddies, Georgette of Georgette Sullins’ Blog tagged me for a blogging game. My choice of morning activities was to respond or clean the house. Guess which I chose.
The Rules:
1. Post these rules. (CHECK)
2. Post a photo of yourself and eleven random facts about you. (CHECK-ish)
3. Answer the questions given to you in the tagger’s post. (CHECK)
4. Create eleven new questions and tag new people to answer them. (CHECK)
5. Go to their blog/twitter and let them know they have been tagged. (I’m goin’, I’m goin’)
Here’s me. Sort of.
Yes, I’m a hairy beast. Mine is more blondish red, but same idea (Google image)
Eleven facts you may not know about me.
No one has ever accused me of being neat.
I went to secretarial school.
People for whom I worked as a secretary in the 1970s are still trying to find stuff I filed.
My interest in politics started during the Vietnam War but really took off in my freshman year of college when a professor suggested I take his course then next semester. He thought I was brilliant, so I took his course for an easy “A.” It was a course on the Kennedys — the best history course I ever took.
I cannot work on one thing all day. My mind bounces around too much. I call it a “Superball”; others say it’s ADHD. You choose.
My husband John and I were introduced by my old boyfriend, Erik; they worked together. John and I often sat next to each other at firm functions and insulted each other mercilessly. Erik used to get really mad at me because “other people just don’t understand that you are joking.” John and I started dating 4-5 years after I broke up with the other guy. The “people that didn’t understand” were a bit surprised.
I was Daddy’s girl from the start. I’m guessing conception.
My brothers and sisters didn’t hate me because Daddy liked me best. They used me to get Dad to say “yes” to something they wanted. Worked for me.
I routinely skipped school in 4th grade.
I feel panicky whenever I have to drive across railroad tracks after living next to the NY-New Haven railroad line growing up.
When we got bored just hopping across the railroad tracks when a train was approaching, my brother and I used to pull down our pants and then hop across the tracks in front of approaching trains. Yup, every day is a gift.
Now, here are my answers to Georgette’s questions:
1. Did you have a cousin close in age to you?
Maureen, my mother’s sister Ruth’s daughter is 10 months older than me. Aunt Ruth was a widow and she and Maureen spent most Sundays at our house. Aunt Ruth was always placing Maureen and me back-to-back to see which was taller. Of course Maureen always “won.” It used to make me cry. I didn’t like Maureen much as a kid. We’re great friends now.
2. What was the first novel that transported you?
My sister Beth used to read my brother Fred and I the classics, right from the start, and I’ve always read voraciously. But the first time I remember really consciously being aware of the power of words to transport was when I read Great Expectations. I was then at the intersection between my own childhood and adolescence. Dickens, who was clearly an adult when he wrote it, was able to go back so clearly and understandingly into Pip’s childhood feelings that I was comforted that I’d always be able to go back to mine.
3. Is the work you do to pay the bills a passion or practical?
My career has been completely accidental. In my teens I dreamed of being an actress and a singer. My mother worked in an office and it seemed like the worst sort of drudgery imaginable. In my arrogance, I knew I was better than that. More interesting. More creative. Smarter. (See The Silver Lining – thankfully, I grew out of being such an ass. Mostly.)
But I had health problems – colitis they thought (it’s actually Crohn’s). I would always need health insurance and so my parents forced me, kicking and screaming, to secretarial school.
They were right. I HAVE always needed health insurance. But I managed to turn secretarial jobs into other (still office-bound) jobs that have been more rewarding and really interesting. I have been incredibly lucky.
My current job is wonderful. I get paid to write and to learn and to look at this wonderful view every day from my office window.
(Google image)
I have no complaints about taking the practical path.
4. Do you have a favorite country western song? If so, which is it?
5. If you could (or do) grow a garden would there be flowers or vegetables to fill it?
The only successful gardens I’ve ever had were vegetable ones. There is nothing like the taste of that first tomato.
6. What would you like to see in the US that you haven’t seen yet? Or abroad?
In the US, I’d like to see some more of the west, particularly the National Parks – the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone (Jellystone would be nice, too 😉 I’d love to meet Yogi and Boo-boo)
In Europe, I’d love to see Rome. But not when they’re trying to elect a Pope.
7. Have you ever caught a fish? If so, tell us about it.
One summer night when I was 7, our first summer living near the beach, my brother Fred grabbed me and we ran to the beach. There was a creek that ran with the tide, which was coming in. Fish were swimming upstream to spawn. The moon was full and shining off the silver scales of millions of fish. We went in the water and caught one with our hands, took it home and put it in the bathtub. We were going to keep it as a pet. He(?) surprisingly died and we buried him in our garden that year.
I’ve never seen anything like it. We never saw the fish migrate like that again — it was magical. I think of it every time I see moonlight on water.
8. What’s your favorite breakfast, lunch or dinner meal?
Dinner: Roast beef (medium rare) with gravy, egg noodles and green beans. I don’t eat too much beef any more so it is a rare and wonderful treat when I do.
9. Have you been surprised recently? What surprised you? When?
Blogging has surprised me constantly since I started doing it. I didn’t expect to make so many friends this way.
10. What is a state you have never traveled to, but you plan to visit someday?
Colorado. I’ve never been and I love mountains. It sounds like the perfect place. I’d also love to visit the Pacific Northwest.
11. Is there a 2012, 2013 movie you would recommend?
Lincoln and the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.
Now I get to ask questions:
Were you closer to Mom or Dad (if you were spawned by aliens, please explain)
There are moments in history that everyone alive at that time remember (for me it was the Kennedy assassination). What was your first?
Favorite pet ever
Funniest quote
Best insult you ever delivered and why the recipient deserved it.
First memory
What do you dislike most about blogging?
Do your friends/family members read your blog?
How would you be using your time right now if you weren’t answering my stupid questions
Your dream job.
What you expect to be reincarnated as in your next life?
And now, my victims. Please feel free to ignore this or do it. It is your choice. I will not be hurt, I will not, in fact, stop stalking you. I chose folks I thought would continue speaking to me after naming them. If you’re not on it, you weren’t forgotten. But feel free to answer my questions. Feel free, in fact to make up your own.
Oh Lord. I’m not quite sure how to handle the guilt. Will I need therapy? Drugs? Electric shock treatments?
I considered going to confession. But as a lapsed Catholic I didn’t want to risk it.
You can’t be too careful
What will happen to me? To my family? How will my husband, my son, my brothers, live with the shame of being family members of one such as me.
And what if I go to jail? I’ve never been, but I’ve watched enough prison movies to know I wouldn’t do well there. I won’t last long at all. The other cons will hate me and make sure I pay dearly.
But it’s not my fault. I didn’t know. If I had, I know I’d have lived my life differently.
You see today I learned that I am a serial killer. You’d think I might have noticed before now, wouldn’t you? That I’d be scurrying around, digging holes in the basement floor or the back yard. That I would be having all sorts of bonfires. That at a minimum I would have purchased a wood-chipper to dispose of the evidence.
Nope. It wasn’t necessary.
You see, I have been carrying the bodies around with me for decades. No wonder I’m tired all the time.
I know you didn’t listen to the video. But you should have. Because then you’d know that because I have used birth control pills – contraceptives – Pastor Kevin Swanson thinks I am a serial murderer with a uterus filled with dead fetuses.
Ewwwww. Got any Massengil?
Make mine a double!
* * *
Tell me, is there a contest going on to see which right-wing fanatic can say the stupidest thing ever heard by mankind?
I am awesome. Yup. It’s true. You see, well, I have a new prize. A new award!
Yes, just the other day, I got A Booker Award! Seriously! Me!
What does that mean? Well, it is awarded to a novelist of great achievement from the United Kingdom or from Ireland. Cool! I’ve been to both places. I’m sure that qualifies.
The Man Booker Foundation awards the Booker Prize! But not to me.
Here is what it says on the Man Booker Award site:
Winning the Man Booker Prize is the ultimate accolade for many writers. As 1996 winner Graham Swift commented, “Prizes don’t make writers and writers don’t write to win prizes, but in the near-glut of literary awards now on offer, the Booker remains special. It’s the one which, if we’re completely honest, we most covet.”
Every year the Man Booker Prize winner is guaranteed a huge increase in sales, firstly in hardback and then in paperback. There is spin-off too in global sales of books, in future publishing contracts and in film and TV rights. Besides the fortune, the winner of the Man Booker Prize can also be sure of fame. The announcement of the winner is covered by television, radio and press worldwide.
Isn’t that cool? Won’t it look great on my resume?
Janice, of Aurora Borealis actually nominated me for a Booker Award. Pretty neat huh? Especially since I will be the only novelist to win such a coveted award who has not, um, actually written a novel. But hey, I won two Oscars without ever working on a movie. Apparently I am multi-talented.
Oh wait. I just looked at Janice’s post a little more closely. Oh. My bad. I didn’t win the Man BookerPrize. I won this one:
I got THIS one!
Cool! Sorry for the confusion. (But if you think I’m changing my resume, you’d better think again!)
I am delighted to accept it this award. To do so, I need to
Thank Janice for the nod. Thanks so much for thinking of me, Janice. For those of you who don’t know her, Janice is an amazingly good person, a writer of poetry, prose, of pieces that make your heart break, and your heart sing. Of pieces that make you question the humanity of some humans, and soar at the gifts others can bring. So thank you Janice. You were one of my first followers. And one of my first and best blogging buddies.
I need to put a picture of the award on my blog – there it is!
I need to tell y’all about five books I love. That’s the hard part, because I love books. I read two or three books a week. Whichever one is in my hand is usually high on the list of my favorites – otherwise I would put it down and not bother with it. But I will try to narrow my list. Here are some of my favorites:
Treasure Islandby Robert Louis Stephenson is the first book I remember. My sister Beth used to read it to my brother Fred and me every night for years. When I found the old copy of Treasure Island that Beth read from years later, the book fell open to the “Apple Barrel Chapter,” the one we begged for every night. It was through the reading of this that Beth taught Fred and me to love books. Good books. She taught us to love stories and the magic you can always find in them.
Forever by Pete Hamill. A young Irish man travels to America in colonial days. Through an act of kindness, he is granted eternal life as long as he never leaves Manhattan. The story traces the his and the city’s journey from colonial days to the present. Magical. When my sister Beth, who gave me books, was dying, this was the book I read to her in her last hours. It is a beautiful story. I wish I could have read her the whole book.
The Woman in White by Wilke Collins.I’m a sucker for the classics. Wilke Collins was a contemporary of Dickens. He wrote beautifully about different problems in Victorian society, many of which we grapple with today. The Woman in White deals with mental illness. Poor Miss Finch is a blind woman whose life and disability is presented with dignity in a time when that wasn’t often the case in life or in novels. No Name presents two upper class sisters who suddenly learn that by a trick of fate, their parents were somehow not legally married; The Moonstone set the stage for modern mystery stories. He is a writer to check out if you love classic literature. Collins’ protagonists are women and they are true heroines, all.
The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown. Weird Sisters is the author’s first novel and it is so incredibly brilliantly (and differently) written. The three sisters are complex and humorous and absolutely delightful, when you don’t want to kill them. Just like real sisters. The book is a gift to anyone with sisters. Or anyone who likes to read. Or maybe just a gift to me.
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. A complex look at the lives of two women in Afghanistan before and during the Taliban’s rule of Kabul.
Ask me again tomorrow and, well, I’ll likely come up with a different group. Because I love books. I just can’t get enough of them.
Lastly, now I need to nominate five bloggers who can lie on their resumes, too. It’s always hard because folks love or hate these awards, or fall somewhere in between, like me. I tried to find folks who like awards and who haven’t yet received this one. This is a challenge, you know!
FiftyFourandAHalf 