The Puca and the Alarm Clock

I just noticed this is the 100th post! I guess it should be profound or special in some way, but frankly, I post when the muse hits.
The muse hit oddly last night at 3 am. I woke suddenly from a deep and sound sleep, turned my head and saw a HUGE (double the size of Cujo, my biggest cat) black cat staring at me, standing on the edge of my bed. It was big and black and it stared right at me. So I screamed. And the cat turned, jumped down and ran downstairs- at which point I was able to recognize from the sound of the patter of paws that it was Sorcha. Cujo heard me scream and came running to investigate-he is my self-appointed guardian, after all. Sorcha heard him come upstairs and crept back, jumping up next to me. I turned to the new clock radio and it was exactly 3:00 am.
In my disoriented state, the first thing I thought was "Puca!" The puca is a spirit, a shapeshifter that takes the form of an animal like a horse, a rabbit, or a cat. Usually it's a benign being that interacts with humans in different ways, mostly mischievous or annoying, but sometimes the puca warns of danger or guides a human away from danger. It is less of an omen than the Ban Sidhe, but some consider it malevolent.
Once my rapid heartbeat decelerated, and the two kitties settled in to sandwich me, I realized what had happened. Sorcha usually jumps up on the bed on my left side, but on this occasion she jumped up to my right. My new clock radio (which plays my iPod and allows me two alarms, one for work and one for other times) has a time display that is very, very bright. My old one had red lit numbers that glowed dimly. This one lights the entire room, which I dislike; I like my room very dark and never had a nightlight. It is set on dim- the brighter display is at bright as my lamp to me. When the sudden movement to the unaccustomed right side occurred, I opened up my eyes. With the bright light of the clock turned away from my direct view, Sorcha appeared larger as a shadow, and her tortoise fur appeared jet black. As a shadowed shape looming next to me (add in lack of eyeglasses contributing to vision distortion), her outline appeared totally unfamiliar, causing my reaction. Additionally, she usually vocalizes when I look at her (and she has a huge range of vocalization), and on this occasion she did not.
So my scientific analysis of the situation tells me that I simply mistook my own cat for a mythical creature in the wee hours. The inner Celt in me wonders if the puca acted through my cat to alert or warn me of some impending disaster. (Celts are always waiting for impending disaster- it's how we are hard-wired.)
Bottom line- note to self: find some kind of film to cover that damn alarm clock.
My personal puca is again competing for First Laptop position.

It's official.

Vigils and Beanie Babies

Vigil services have always been my favourite.
One of my earliest memories is being in the lower church with my grandmother, attending Stations of the Cross. This is done every Friday during Lent, so I got a weekly dose of chanting the Stabat Mater. I try not to miss this service on Good Friday, but this year was a no-go.
The Easter Vigil has always been my preferred service. The church I attended growing up is a huge affair and was considered as the cathedral site at one time. The service starts in total darkness- the priest carries in the Paschal candle, chanting three times "Christ the Light". Each time, we sing a response and we light out own candles from the huge Paschal candle, passing the flame from one to the next until the building is filled with flickering lights. Then with the Alleluia, the lights go on, the organ booms, and the ceremony goes full swing.
My church in Worcester-the parish where my heart belongs- did the vigil in spades. Properly done, the service includes baptism, profession of sin, and confirmation as well as the sacrament of the Mass. We always had at least 5 people being baptized and confirmed, one year we had 19 or 20. The service was usually bilingual or trilingual. Monsignor started the Paschal fire outside in a drum (the boys enjoyed the pyro aspect) and carried the flame inside. One year, the service started at 7pm and he got so carried away with his sermon AND we did ALL the readings from Genesis to St John (optional meant hell yeah)...I slunk out with the boys after Communion at 10:30 pm. We were starved- we had planned to go out to eat after. We did, but they were so surly, I never could get them to do vigil with me ever again and I had to tip the waitress big because Bren had a hissy.
I've tried hard to fit in at my little parish, but I just don't feel the sense of belonging there that I did in Boston or Worcester. It didn't help that the retired pastor was best friends with the priest who was in prison for molesting 20+ children and who got offed in prison by another prisoner. ("Why can't people who got molested just get over it and get on with their lives?") Then the parish got cut so we share the new pastor with another parish. They changed the Mass times and now it's a lot harder for me to make it to services regularly. When I go, most of the time it's at the other parish in the next town because those are the only services I can make it to.
So this year I got to do the vigil at the other church. I couldn't believe the place wasn't jam packed like my other parishes always were-only 3 families with kids under 12, mostly elders with a smattering of thirty-somethings. The altar looked very nice- they had a fountain set up, surrounded by hydrangeas, diffenbachias, and callas. The choir (beautifully robed in scarlet with white collars over their jeans and sneakers) was tuneful, but they didn't do any of my favourite Easter hymns. I had been humming "Resurexit sicut dixit" all day, so I was disappointed. At the Gloria, the fountain started to bubble, which was a nice touch, and drew my attention. Then I noticed- Beanie Babies.
Beanie Babies was a fad that totally bypassed my family, although I knew a few people who got totally into them and collected them the way my mother acquired Hummels and lottery tickets-religiously. I never associated Beanie Babies with Easter, but apparently the person decorating the altar thought that the little waterfall surrounded by shrubbery would be the perfect place to position a lion, a tiger and what appeared to be an iguana (though it could have been the Geico gekko for all I know) creeping out of the diffenbachia toward the holy watering hole. There might have been a dinosaur or two hidden in the hydrangeas of this little Jurassic Park tableau for all I know. And that pretty much blew my concentration on the sermon.
I guess if Easter can be associated with a bunny who gives chocolate, it can also be associated with little stuffed jungle animals coming for a drink.
Happy Easter!

My Commute

I work rather far from where I live for a number of reasons I won't go into right now. I live fairly close to a major highway and several roads., but I choose to travel as the crow flies across country. I have some back roads and shortcuts that wipe about 30 minutes off the commute I would have if I did the highway. I end up on the highway that takes me close to work.
I pass horse farms, brooks, rivers, fields and some nice panoramic views of mountains. Depending on the time of year, I get early morning light or sun coming up. At night coming home means a starlit sky, or moonlight over fields. I decompress in my car.
This is what I saw all winter. I will follow it up with what I see in spring when spring finally comes to New England.

More dubchas

I hadn't intended to be so long about posting. I've just had rather a sucky winter. Storm after storm to clear up after, family hospitalizations, some problems with staffing and feedback at work have all contributed to a very long dubhchas that shows no signs of moving on.
I have had several thoughts and ideas for posts and as I have time I will add them.

Dhaimhnhait

Dhaimhnhait is a complicator. Dhaimhnhait is an enigma. Dhaimhnhait breaks my heart and makes me laugh at the same time. Dhaimhnhait is sitting next to me hoping that I will put my hand down so she can pet me. I cannot pet her-it has to be her petting me.
I was never a cat person, but my husband was always bringing home cats. I was baffled by their behaviour after years of having dogs. I brought home Cujo in 1994. I was jogging in the cemetery and this little cat, about 6 months old, kept running out to me crying. A lady who visited her husband's grave every day told me she had seen a car pull up that morning and toss the cat out and take off. She gave it water, but it was hungry and frightened. I don't know why I picked him up and took him home, but when I did, he made my son laugh so loudly that I knew it was right. My son had been battling his own dubchas, and it was his first laugh I had heard in months. Cujo loved the boys, played rough and hard, learned all manner of crazy tricks, and gave us much laughter. He is protective-he woke me in the middle of the night when someone broke into my home, and he tried to lead me to safety. He sits sentinel in the garden and denies entry to cats, dogs, and squirrels (but he does allow mice so he can torture them).
When I was divorcing, I thought that getting a kitten would help me battle through the long dubchas that followed. Kate and I played with every kitten in the shelter, and I brought Sorcha home on June 6, 1999. I had trained all out cats to stay out of my room due to my allergies, but Sorcha had none of that-she insisted on sleeping on my head like a small fur cap. Over the years, she has moved to my knee; even when deeply asleep, I can feel her head resting on my knee. I cannot sleep well without her. We have a symbiotic relationship-she needs me to support her in the style she feels she deserves and I need to be adored.
Dhaimhnhait is a different story. I didn't need a lift, I was really too busy to take on another responsibility and I was working while I was in school so I was exhausted all of the time.
I was stricken by all the videos of abandoned animals starving during Hurricane Katrina's devastation. Bad enough the human suffering but the countless pets without food and water, living in fear, unable to understand where their humans were gone to-the images broke my heart. I thought about adopting a Katrina pet. My hours do not allow me to have a dog-they need walking and being outside more regularly than I can give. They did not bring any cats to my state because we already had an overload. I wondered- if I adopted a cat here and left one empty space in a shelter, would that pay it forward enough?
So I looked- and this is what I found:

Brook-Lynn

Domestic Long Hair, Maine Coon

More About Brook-Lynn

"I am Brook-Lynn, an even tempered, gentle soul, about 2 years old. I have long tabby fur, much like a Maine Coon. I was rescued starving, and had been used for target practice by some cruel person. But, I have never held that against people, and my wounds healed well. I like to sit next to my foster mom, and love to be scratched on my belly. My favorite activity is to watch the birds and squirrels out the window. I do live to play with my favorite toys, and with the other cats in my foster home. If you'd like a great cat, please adopt me!"

Something about her little face made me so sad. I did an online application, had a visit from the slightly odd (ok REALLY odd) shelter person. I visited the kitty in her insane crazy cat lady foster home (REALLY insane), and eventually brought her home. I did it all right- kept her shut in one room for over a week to get her acclimated and let the other cats gets used to her scent, introduced her slowly, etc. Made no difference- World War Kitty had begun. I had to add two more litter boxes, referee, and vacuum up tufts of evidence from their tussles. Little by little, they all calmed down.

She had once been some one's pet, and was tossed out to fend for herself. She foraged in a semi-suburban area, eating trash and field mice and birds. Local teens used her for target practice, and she has a few BB's still lodged in her larger muscles. When she was captured by the empathetic sister of the crazy cat lady, she was then sent to safety-which meant being de-wormed, immunized and spayed. She's known so much suffering and pain at the hands of humans. It's no surprise that she has trust issues.

I spent hours sitting on the floor reading and studying until she would creep silently over to my side to pet me. If I moved, she ran away. I talked to her all the time, getting her used to the sound of my voice. I tried a bunch of names and she answered to Dhaimhnhait- Little Doe. Like a timid, skittish deer she is, and it suits her. She does not come reliably when I call her, but she knows her name.

It really bothered me at first when she tussled with the other cats. I have since learned not to take it personally- they work out their issues and I only intervene when meanness is occurring. Dev has switched her territory numerous times. For a non-alpha cat in a multi-cat household, it amazes me how she has maneuvered her way into several choice spots-right now she controls the coveted window seat, in summer she loves the open front door. Unlike the other two, I cannot let her outside-she does not come when called and cannot be trusted, so window and door are important to her.

She recently had some dental extractions- more pain. At the post-op check, she had lost a whole pound. They upped her pain meds because she wasn't healing. Each morning before work and each day when I returned, I had to catch her and shove pills down her throat. Then I figured it out-the opioids were making her sick to her stomach. I stopped the pills, her appetite boomed, and she healed up quickly.

She still doesn't get along with the other cats, but she holds her own with them. She finds ways to get me all to herself. Her pleasures are small, but she enjoys them- watching the birds, chasing random objects-the usual kitty stuff. She is safe, she is fed regularly, she is tortured at the vet's seldom, and sometimes her person buys the really really good cat food as a treat. When she needs to be petted, she comes and finds a kind hand to brush against. Occasionally, there is a box. She really likes it when there is a box. Is this what she dreamed about when she crouched in the cold beneath a bush all alone?
I sure hope so.

The Singing Valentine

My dear friend Ros is not only pastor of a parish but she is also the executive director of an inner-city mission that caters to the poor of urban Montreal. One evening, we were discussing ideas for fundraising and keeping the mission afloat. She particularly liked the idea of singing Valentines. With just a few weeks to pull fliers together and advertise, they ended up making a little money with not a whole lot of effort or cost. The next year, she started earlier, lathered the town with posters, fired up the volunteers and a successful annual fundraiser was born.
Not having a current sweetie, I'll just mail her a check anyway, but it is a clever and sweet thing to do. It stands out from the overpriced roses, and is calorie-free.

Once again, Mile End Community Mission is fund-raising while giving joy to many people. On Valentine's Day, we will sing, by telephone, a valentine of your choice to someone special in your life. We are willing to call long-distance. Please forward this to all your friends, relatives, and colleagues.

All you need to do is :
1. Choose a song from the attached poster.
2. Send us 1) the name(s) of the person(s) to whom you would like us to sing, 2) their telephone number, and 3) suggested time(s) to call - between 2 and 8pm Saturday, February 14th.
3. Send us a cheque for $20.00 for each singing valentine.

Reservations can be made by phone (514) 274-3401 or by e-mail at general@mileendmission.org
In between times, we also call and sing to people who are alone or who otherwise can use a little reminder that they are loved. If you have no one to send a valentine to, you could sponsor one of these people if you wish.
Thank you for helping support Mile End Mission, and every blessing at Valentine's Day and all through the coming year.
The Mission Team
http://www.mileendmission.org/english/index.html

Disney-holic-NOT, Not Keen About the Mouse

I dealt with yet another Disney-bound family yesterday, giggly little ones with colds whose parents were researching products to get them through the plane trip for the annual pilgrimage to Orlando. I've been to Orlando once on a business trip, and the highlight was going out for dinner with a group of my peers and my mom, whom I had shangaied for a few days in the sun. I drove past the great American Mecca in the dark, on the way home from visiting a family friend. It held no temptation for me then or now.
I have family and friends who go to the DisneyWorld repeatedly, and who feel it's the best vacation spot ever. I have worked with people whose cubicles are decorated with mouse ears and Tiggers. I wait on forty year olds with cartoon tattoos that I hope I don't have to look at when they are seventy and saggy. I am bombarded with commercials, and have been for years, that this is the last chance to see this and this year is the last chance to experience that. And I never experienced a burning desire to cash in the 401K and run, not walk, to the last bastion of pediatric economic exploitation.
Don't get me wrong- I enjoy many of the Disney products. I like the movies, the musicals, the opportunity the conglomerate has given to many of our most creative minds. I have always detested Winnie the Pooh- its creator was estranged from the son whom he based his stories on, and whose life was made miserable by references to the sappy stories. (Bear in mind, I collect children's books.) I liked the Mickey Mouse cartoons when I was young, and recognize their significance in the development of the art form. I liked that they made stories a LITTLE more PC, with strong feminine characters and less negative ethnic stereotyping. I tend to like amusement parks as a general rule, and we took our kids to StoryLand, Santa's Village, Clark's Trading Post, Six Flags & Water Country over the years as they grew (I refused to take them to travelling carnivals as I think they aren't monitored well enough). I just never felt that it would be the highlight of our lives to load 4 kids into a plane and travel to the other end of the country to pay exorbitant fees to eat breakfast with some actor in a mouse suit. And a number of families we socialized with felt the same way. I recently watched the show about the sextuplets screeching their way through the park, too little to really understand and enjoy the activities, while their mom tried to get her camera to work and record the magic moments as she extolled that her children deserved to experience this fun. I had to agree with the National Lampoon parody WallyWorld, that the journey should be more than the destination (deceased relatives notwithstanding).
I used to pull my kids out of school for a week, and we'd go north to Vermont AFTER the school vacations had ended and the crowds were gone, and everything was cheaper. We'd ski all morning, eat a hearty lunch we prepared ourselves, and ski til the lifts closed, then snack and do homework before dinner. At Magic Mountain, the staff knew us, and the wait staff would chat with the kids every year, remembering what they were up to and how big they were last year. At Stowe, we discovered out favourite Mexican restaurant (which we've gone back to numerous times) and saw Aladdin in the theatre. At Pleasant Mountain, we had a condo and cooked in, and had great visits by Joe and other family members & their friends. It was just us and the mountains, the clean, crisp air and the hot cocoa and chili dinners. I never thought fireworks and pirates and big cartoon characters and parades could rival that. We haven't skied all together in a long time, but we still like to be together, and when we cook, we are all in the kitchen. We also made our yearly pilgrimage to the house that holds us all on the Cape, with Vacation A option of early morning hikes and birdwatching, frantic bike riding, kayaking and card playing & Option B being sleeping late, lots of novels, discussions, & hammocks. (Both options included beach, leisurely communally cooked meals, movies and vicious Trivial Pursuit games replete with the Spotted Sandpiper Mating ritual.)
Maybe the hoopla meets that need for some people and it's their way of being together in a special place. It just makes me a bit suspicious that the Corporation has us profiled to a T- they know what kind of offers to tempt the populace with, what deals we cannot refuse. We are told to consume, to expect to be entertained, so frequently, subliminally and steadily, that we feel it is our right as an American to have the wondrous vacation, and to have it yearly. If your child is ill, or has a poor prognosis, arrangements must be made for this pilgrimage as a sacred rite that must be experienced at least once in every lifetime, no matter how short. Americans as a whole have forgotten how to make do or do without, and have gotten very used to doing as we're told by the media.
The whole theme park and cruise line scenario reminds me of a baby on Christmas, overwhelmed with present after present after present, thing upon thing that the child didn't know he needed or wanted until presented with it. And the child retreats into a quiet corner to play with the box.

I am very curious to see how Disney takes the Harry Potter world under its wing and interprets my current favourite series. Will I be a traitor to my own opinions if I decide to someday visit it? I don't know. But for now, Orlando, enjoy the weather and the hoopla while I go to shovel my roof again before the next snow starts. Then I am off to play with a box.

Beautiful but Deadly

It seems that every time we have a whopping major storm, I am working. That means I get to drive in pretty horrible conditions, driving often behind the sanders and plows. But it also means I get to see some very impressive nature.
Last week I drove home in the quiet night under a full moon in a clear sky ringed with stars. I swear the January moon is the most beautiful. Its light lit the icicles hanging from every tree branch, and made the fields of snow glow blue. I stood on the roof (trusty ice chipper in hand as usual) and breathed the frigid night air as the moon rose higher above my head. The blue light that I associate with January lit the snow on the rooftops around me. Not the safest position in the world but I wouldn't have traded it for anything.
I drove to work in the storm yesterday, a good 3-4 inches already on the ground, and precious little plowing done. The snow came down thick and fast and the whole world was white. It was so fluffy and light when I shovelled out my car, just enough to get it out of the driveway.Hardly anyone on the road, but how gorgeous everything looked blanketed with white, pristine fields and high banks as yet unsullied by plows, footprints or anything else moving. Then I had my first little skid on the black ice beneath the unsanded snowy road, and realized how precarious my position on the road actually was. I saw a few cars that had skidded and one pretty bad accident on the other side of the road. Last night I drove home after the first snowstorm, and the trees were white and heavy in my headlights. There was more traffic than I am used to until I got to the windy country road I favour over the highway. Then it was quiet, dark, and cloudy. The lights of Wachusett gently lit the distance beyond my favourite field. I came home & shovelled a good nine inches, gave up on the driveway and just did the front & back walks, then the roof (again). It began snowing gently, soft flakes falling in the light of the streetlight, hushed, crisp and clean. This morning, after the second snow had ended, I again bailed out another 6 inches and headed off to work. A holiday, so they didn't bother to rush in getting the roads passable. As I came round one curve in Groton, off to my left, the foothills before Mt Monadnock were etched sharply in a way I had never seen before. Each tree, mostly fir, had its cap and crown of white snow on dark green, and each stood out in sharp relief in detail I could not have imagined at such a distance. But there it was. I had to tear my eyes away to negotiate the curve, knowing that the next time I passed this way, it would long since have melted and turned back into shades and striations of green. The long country road that serves me as a shortcut is deadly in bad weather, but it's my favourite time to drive it. The kettle pond, frozen over and white, the horse farm whose equine residents stand blanketed, blowing steam from their nostrils and nudging one another- all sights I hate to miss. Usually a lone redtail hawk wheels down in hopeful search of some small prey moving, or a murder of crows bursts from the oaks beside the road. And my eye photographs these moments to keep forever even as my mind focuses on steering into the skid, staying in the track, white-knuckling the wheel. Now that I have an ipod, I let the shuffle treat me to a random ear candy flow of music I like with no commercial interruptions as the soundtrack to each momentous commute (and I haven't even begun the Irish playlist Ceol Mor yet!). And then I pass another accident...a car well off the road into the woods, and the tow truck man wearily shovelling a path to get it out.
Always the most beautiful moments in nature are the deadliest. And, might I add, the most attractive in many ways. I have always been especially partial to storms. One of my earliest memories is a hurricane. In the eye of the storm, my dad bundled us into our yellow slicker raincoats and walked us down the beach, down to Kelly's Landing and back. Sailboats and dories lay battered and strewn on the beach, torn from their moorings by the force of the gale. I was so little and so overwhelmed by the destruction and damage I saw, but I never applied the thought that the forces of destruction could apply to me, because I was with my Daddy. It started to rain again as we raced the storm back home. It was exhilarating, and I never forgot it. Years later, we repeated the scene, my sister, her husband, my best friend and I, and raced the storm home again, soaked to the skin and scolded roundly by my mom. Having watched multiple videos of stormwatchers being swept away, I know now how stupid it is to put oneself at risk to witness the power, the majesty and the terrific horror of nature. And still, standing on the roof in a foot of powder, knocking icicles off the eaves and surveying the world from on high, I also totally understand it.

Shovelling the Ice Jam Off the Roof

The kitchen roof, as I like to put it, is not steeply pitched enough for snow to slide off, but quite steeply pitched enough for me to slide off. Therein lies a delicate balance.

Icicles are beautiful, but dangerous, and they are indicators that ceiling damage is about to ensue. My first year in the house, the brand new ceiling in the sunporch leaked and buckled. I researched the problem and discovered why ice jams form and how to handle them. I have kept any more damage from occurring simply by shovelling the last foot or so on the roof after each storm so that melting water can roll off and not get stuck pooling behind the edge and seeping down and in. I have to climb out the window of the kids' bedroom, so I keep an ice chopper and a 40 lb bucket of calcium chloride next to the bed. Doesn't everyone?

Bear in mind we had a huge ice storm followed by a 9 inch snow. It was just too slick to go out after the ice storm. Having the 9 inch snow directly after made it possible, but I had to keep in mind that 3 inches of ice were under that snow at each step.
Over the back door, there was enough melt to clear a whole section of roof, to the left. The furthest end to the right was the slickest and thickest ice, so I salted it well yesterday, just before being called to work an emergency half-shift. Today I was able to chop only about 4-6 inches on that end. I just can't get close enough to the edge to put power into the chop. I salted well, though-it's all I can do.
See how thick that ice is under the snow? I can't afford a skid- the nine foot high snowpile beneath is SOLID!
Cujo likes to supervise from the bed.
Sorcha likes to come right out with me and inspect my work. She sometimes perches on the peak while I work.
But today she just curled up in the sun on the dark asphalt shingles.
When I was done, I wiped out all the icicles from below and shovelled out the steps and salted some more. Just in time for another storm tomorrow. Right now I am finishing my cuppa tea and dreaming about the changes I'd like to make to the house. I'd like to add a room above the kitchen, so the roof is pitched steeply enough that I no longer need to shovel. Replace the bathrooms and open up the kitchen so the space is more usable. Add better storage. Maybe a deck. Pave the driveway. Insulate & replace the windows. A dream for another day.

On my last working day before Christmas, my Karma sent to me...

12 faxes from yesterday (when the fax jammed and the pharmacist never noticed...)
11 people who wanted me to ring up a shopping cart full of crap (even though they had no prescriptions to pick up..)
10 insurance issues (requiring long hold times)
9 clarifications from providers (including who the heck wrote this?)
8 waiters whose prescriptions couldn't be processed (see #2)
7 people looking for shoehorns, OTC drugs they didn't know the name of, hairspray, or bathrooms
6 backordered medications (metoprolol succinate 50 mg, ethedent, sodium fluoride ring a bell?)
5 calls for help (both printers not working!!!!!)
4 doctors not in system (who then had to be added completely)
3 refill requests for prescriptions with no refills left
2 broken printers (requiring 4 calls for support and one technician who talked to herself incessantly and had to be ordered to stop so I could download prescriptions from the interactive voice response)
aaaaaaand ONE sick technician who called out & had to be replaced (with the tech who volunteered to work a 12-hour day-THANKS, MY FRIEND!!!!!)
Falalala freaking la!

First Snow

And we haven't even got the leaves out...
Three inches and some with a crust of ice- it was treacherous out there today. So glad I bought 100 lb of rock salt yesterday!
Bren had a half day at work and made the mistake of calling me. One easy guilt trip later, I got him to haul all six bags of yard waste (including the nasty, thorny marsh rose) off to the dump. Of course, he had to shovel out the driveway in order to do this. Hey, I did the walk and my car. The fourth trip, we brought all my trash & recycling as well-never got to do it this weekend as I ended up working. Then, post office- sent all my packages & weigh-ables-he fell asleep in the car. Then I shovelled off the roof. The pitch is too low for snow to slide off, but quite sufficient enough for me to slide off. It gave Bren the heebie-jeebies! Good thing I had chili-he was starving after all that work.
As he was leaving, we did the rest of the drive and the front walk.
THEN I vacuumed the house, washed the floors, finished the laundry, wrapped more gifts, cleared off the tables of miscellaneous junk and discovered that the cats broke a glass candlestick in their last, spectacular catfight. And they seemed to have christened every room with a hairball. Also re-potted a sansevaria that decided to grow sideways and lifted itself completely out of its pot- split it in two. Not a lick of dirt on the roots, go figure. Also potted a Moses-In-The-Cradle that had rooted in a jar. And while all this was taking place, the soup I had simmering on the stove bubbled and filled the house with a wonderful odor that piques the interest of the kitties. Tomato base, filled with sweet potato, Maine potato, zucchini, summer squash, carrots, kidney beans and brown rice. YUM and hot!
Now I work 5 days straight- 54 hours straight. YUK.
Hopefully, it won't be so slippery on my way in tomorrow. I'm worried about Friday- I may just have to stay in Manchester-IF I can find a room! The hotels are full of people displaced from the ice storm who still have no power...

The Dark is Rising.

The days are darker and darker, so my pyro mode is in full tilt when I am home, which isn't very often. When I am, I am usually in bed. I managed a few days at home when I just stayed on the couch and alternated between clicker and laptop.
Even with limited time, I have still managed to clean up the house (mostly), do some engraving (got me some nice Celtic knotwork frames for the art I bought with my earnings), get my window candles set up with timers so they go on automatically, get the tree up (the boys hauled up the boxes for me) and drive to a bunch more medical appointments.
I have caught a few movies; notably "The Seeker" which is a movie version of Susan Coopers series "The Dark Is Rising". Not so good. I also finally saw "Clerks" after all these years. I moved a bunch of comedies up the list because I have been in such a black and foul mood.
I dreamed about my nephew's significant other. We were at a function and all these politicians kept coming up to talk to me, completely ignoring her. I would painstakingly stop the conversation, introduce her and the conversation would continue, with her adding congenial, intelligent commentary. This happened three times or so, then I extricated her and we left for another function. I was so aggravated that she was being ignored, treated impolitely, and forced into invisibility; the message of the dream was clear. Her opinion is important, and she should be paid attention to and listened to. She is generally fairly quiet, but her observations are always dead on. They were up with the kids last weekend, so I told her my dream. Right after I did , the streetlight we were standing under went out (cue Twilight Zone music).
The kids were pretty funny. The two-year old ripped the heads of all the Barbie dolls and placed the torsos in the tree like naked plastic ornaments. The town had a big celebration in the center of town, culminating in a sing-along and Santa turning on all the town's Christmas lights. The girls were right up front belting out songs while his nibs cowered when he saw the 6-foot Elmo. A good time was had by all.
I managed to get most of my Christmas shopping done. I have a few donations to make, since some of the family doesn't like exchanging gifts anymore. I have already given a few. I have already got a few very unexpected gifts in the mail- a wonderful book "Postcards from Heaven" from Dorry (whose son is in the dedications) and a video about Ireland from Ros, who is campaigning for me to go there again this spring.
Kitties 2 and 3 had their annual checkups, vaccinations and microchipping. Dev lost two pounds, and is facing some extractions, so I am hoping it's just competition from the others at the food dish and sore teeth. Sorcha was so distraught, I had to lie down with her for a few hours to calm her. The clicker fell, and she bolted upstairs in panic..
I am not looking forward to Christmas. Things will never be the same after this one, so I just can't seem to embrace the season. I am sad, and angry, and always so very tired.
The dark is winning.

We had a huge ice storm the other night. I set my cell phone as an alarm just in case. Good thing- the house was dark and cold when I awoke. I slept poorly, as did the kitties, from all the sleet, wind and creaking of the old house. The drive was slick with ice. The big birch was laying flat in the drive, but it was not broken off, just weighed down with the burden of ice. I almost made a cup of tea but left in a hurry instead. Big mistake. The drive to work was beautiful- a winter wonderland, but the trees were all bent over the road, and many branches lay in the way. There were few other people on the road, so driving like Pole Position wasn't an issue as I dodged all the downed limbs. One one road, a car must have narrowly dodged a limb that fell, just missing his car, and he drove into a field and got bogged down in mud halfway up the hubcaps. Four times I got nearly to the end of a road only to encounter a huge tree blcoking the road, had to turn around and go back. I winged my way based on internal navigation until I got to the highway. I made it to work only 15 minutes late, only to find they had no power. They had an auxiliary generator that enabled us to have a few dim lights and the use of some cash registers. We raised the gate manually, and all I could do was ring people out. No computers, so I could do absolutely nothing in terms of filling. The store phones didn't work, but my phones did, so I had a lot of people calling me asking if we were open, did we sell generators, propane, all kinds of disaster-type stuff we need in states of emergencies. I was a little hungry, and very cold. The powers that be refused to close the store, so for 12 hours, I was a cheerleader for the customers in the dark. I worked on my development plan by hand, I put away the order, I researched all the refrigerated drugs to learn how long an excursion they can handle out of refigeration, and I read some pharmacy journals and did some continuing eds by hand. It was so cold, I finally gave up and put my fleece on top of my woolen turtleneck (I was SO glad I changed at the last minute into the woolen sweater!) under my labcoat. I was so glad to get into my car and blast the heater, I thought my toes would never thaw out. When I finally made it home (still lots of limbs on the side of the road), I was greeted by the cheery candles in the windows and the knowledge that my power was back on. My birch tree is recovered and reaching for the sky again. I turned up the heat, put on fleece jammies, ate an egg and went straight to bed.
Today I still feel cold but I let myself jack the heat up to 65. It was bitter outside when I let the kitties out. They didn't want to go out again. Neither did I- did some minor paperwork things but mostly watched movies- Boondock Saints and Elf.
The dark is rising.

Dubhchas

It's a small black beast that sits on the shoulder, placing its hands over your eyes so that all you see is tinted dark and foggy. The weight of it penetrates each task, and the darkness penetrates your dreams.
Usually for me it lasts a day or so, but lately I have caught sight of the mist in my peripheral vision often. I tend to retreat when the dubhchas visits me- why bother infecting others and making their world dark? But fate has conspired to put dear and beloved friends into my face fairly frequently, so I recognize the nudge that karma is sending, and I will have dinner and enjoy their support and friendship.
October was so chock full of work, and many medical appointments. One of them was actually for me, and I had my teeth cleaned to the rant of a new hygienist who couldn't emphasize enough my need for periodontal work. No. Not now. I have not got the energy. Cujo had his long-awaited dental work, and had five extractions. I had him micro-chipped while he was out- I have driven past too many dead cats on the road recently, a sight that ruins my day. (My son and my ex both lost cats to cars this past few months.) Cuj recovered nicely with lots of attention & Fancy Feast (he is fourteen after all).
My daughter left for South America. I have been coping with some of her unfinished business- totally unlike her, and I am resentful because my hands are so full right now.
After another bout of acute illness in hospital, my sister had an appointment at a major hospital; we are hoping to get her into a program that offers a solution to her advanced disease. I also took her spouse to an appointment; I was so tired, I fell asleep sitting up in the waiting room.
I managed to vote yesterday by showing up at the poll at 6:45 AM. I was done voting by 7:15 and able to get to the place I was working that day on time (1 hr 45 minute one-way commute). Roughly a 17-hour day for me, I was grateful to sleep late today and needed a nap this afternoon as I was flat-out exhausted. Next week will be worse- I have a long-commute 12-hour day followed by three 12-hour shifts 60 minutes away, followed by a 9-hour shift, one day off and a double medical appointment.
No wonder I am in a foul mood.
At least my kitties love me. They have been fighting over who will sit next to me. Fluctuating kitty dynamics are always a great source of entertainment.
I dreamed about a schizophrenic former patient of mine, of whom I was very fond. It's been about 15 years since I have seen him, and he is likely no longer on this earth (schiz meds cause major metabolic and endocrine dysfunction). Funny I should have him creep up in my sub-conscious; last time I saw him, I had popped in to buy a coffee on my way to work. The manager of the shop was throwing him out as he perused his change for the payment of a cup of joe. I stepped up and said, "Mr. H, it would be my pleasure to treat you to a cup of coffee- how will you like it? Would you like a donut or muffin?" I glared the manager down and bought the man a cup of joe, and let the manager know what I thought of disrespect to the elders and infirm. Outside the shop, Mr. H said, "Do I know you? You look familiar, but I don't recollect your name..." I told him who I was, and that I had worked at the place he use to live, and that he was always unfailingly polite to me, never failed to leap to hold the door open when I was pregnant. I slipped him a fin, and told him it was a real pleasure to see him and have a chance to thank him for his politeness and good manners. And polite as usual, he slipped into my dream last night to remind me that things could be a lot worse. Even with delusions and voices in the head- one can still manage to be unflaggingly cheerful and polite.
Here's to tomorrow!

The Life of a Volvo- the End of an Era

I went to a wedding on Sunday, and as I got ready, I was musing on the fact that most mornings you get up, go out and do the routine- work, make dinner, maybe a little tv or phone chat or shopping, routine activities. Then every once in a while you do something that you will never do again- like get up, get dressed- then join your life to someone else's forever, and become part of his routine each day. Once in a while life throws one of these days at you, when you start off having a normal day, and at the end of it your life is changed forever. This includes a disaster, an accident, a serendipitous encounter, a decision or fork in the road. The wedding, the new job, the diploma at the end of hard work all add up to a morning when you know things will never be the same and there's no going back.
The day of the wedding happened to coincide with the end of an era for me- the ownership of my old '95 Volvo 940 wagon. I bought the Volvo in the tumultuous days of my separation. I drove a real lot in my old job, and I needed a car with excellent safety ratings, great gas mileage and good repair rating. We had two VW vans during the end of my marriage; the newer one fishtailed in snow, had not so great gas mileage, and VW's need constant tinkering. Both titles were in the ex's name, and the insurance was for both cars, so to pay for the van and keep it on the road, I would also have to pay for his van as well, and I made a LOT less money than he did. In hindsight, these details would have probably gotten settled in the divorce, but so many stupid manipulative head games were going on that I asked my lawyer "what if I just get my own car?" He said to go for it. (And it ended up being included in our mutual assets, which penalized me greatly in the financial settlement a year later.)
I did some homework on the net, but my boss had just bought a Volvo and she had the longest commute of anyone I knew, and was a brutally savvy budget watcher. Kate and I went out one evening, and the first car we looked at was this wagon. I never wanted a wagon- I associated it with suburbia and soccer moms. But we tried other cars on other lots, and kept going back to this one. This Volvo worked in many ways, and I ended up becoming the proud owner of a 940 wagon with 65,000 miles.
A friend of mine in Gaelic language classes had sent me to a mechanic friend to get it checked out; he said it was in good shape, and a good deal. This mechanic became a trusted friend as well as the reason the car stayed on the road so long. As parts wore out, my friend replaced them, usually once, maybe twice a year. When I dropped out of the workplace to return to school, the odometer was over 100,000 miles. I talked with him and asked if it was realistic to expect to be able to keep the car running while I was out of the workplace. He listened to my dreams and promised to do his very best to keep it going if I would promise to buy a new car as soon as I graduated.
I had had the car paid off in 4 years instead of 5, and drove it all over New England for my job. It was very handy to have a wagon. I put presentation materials in the trunk, and kept supplies for the many facets of my work. I moved my kids in and out of college dorms and apartments. I stuffed it full of friends and drove all over. I hauled donations from donor to recipient. And my school friends borrowed it to move mattresses, furniture and books all over.
In the 8th year of ownership, I put the first dent in the car, smacking a pole in a parking garage. I was so pissed off- and the garage attendant gleefully told me he keeps a running record of how many people hit the same pole every week in the dark, dingy garage. Other than one dent, the body is in pretty good shape for a 13-year old car. I kept up on the dings with touch-up paint, and no real rust to speak of, unlike many Volvos I see on the road.
Just before graduation, when I was already working after rotations ended, I saw an ad for an incredible deal on a Toyota Corolla, so I went for it. Unlike many in my class, I didn't go for a really nice car, but instead purchased the most basic model I could, so basic you have to roll the windows down by hand. I got an incredible deal for it. I use the Corolla for all my commuting (and put 26,000 miles on it the first year!).
Instead of trading in the Volvo, I kept it on the road, and Kate drove it for the year she was home. It gave her the ability to be mobile and she did a lot of helping out with my family. She also took it to NYC a few times to visit. Now she is moving to South America for a year. There is no reason to keep the Volvo on the road anymore. It has just shy of 260,000 miles on it. It did not pass inspection; it needs a new emergency brake. It's time to move on.
The day of the wedding, as I mused on days that change your life, and I knew this was the end of an era for me. Bren and I cleaned out all Kate's stuff from the Volvo (like me, she leaves lots of crap in the car) and I drove it to my friend's lot and left it there. He called me with his opinion. My friend says he'd need to remove the console and seats to get at the front e-brake, so it would be about $500 to fix. For a car with this mileage, I can't expect to get much money for it, so it's not worth repairing unless I plan to keep it and use it some more. The last car he sold like mine sat on his lot 3 months and got less than the owner had wanted- and it had 160,000 miles less than mine! So if it sells, fine- if it doesn't sell in a few weeks, I'll donate it.
The Volvo was the first car I ever chose for myself. Although it wasn't exactly what I wanted, it turned out that it was exactly what I needed. Yeah, it broke down sometimes, but it was always fixable, and it always bounced back. I had many close calls but I never had an accident. I drove all over New England, Canada, and New York with it. It kept me warm driving in so many freezing New England winters, kept me safe in so many bad storms, and the moonroof gave me sunshine, cool breezes and beautiful views. It had character. Bren laughed at me saying I was emotionally attached to it, but I was. It was comfortable, reliable, and lived far past expectations. I had one last good ride with the roof open on a beautiful & sunny fall day, and I said goodbye and thank you. I left it on the lot in the dark and in the rain, and I hopped into my son's car and drove away. No one will ever love it like I did. It will probably become parts. Whatever spirit or life a car has will be relegated to the good times I had in that old car.
And if I google Bren's address, the satellite picture shows his house- with the old blue Volvo parked right outside the front door. How cool is that?

Number One

Michael Phelps is Number One.
Michael Phelps is Number One.
Michael Phelps is Number One.
Michael Phelps is Number One.
Michael Phelps is Number One.
Michael Phelps is Number One.
Michael Phelps is Number One.
Michael Phelps is Number One..

What can anyone possibly add to the last eight days?

Word Collage from Wordle- My Tags

Back in the Garden, Back on the Road

I had a few days off, AND it stopped raining, so I took advantage of this by crossing a few things off my TO DO list:

1. Vaccum the whole house and wash the floors. Check.
2. Haul four weeks worth of trash, recycling and kitty litter to the transfer station. Check.
3. Laundry and sheets- especially since Sorcha kindly left a dead, headless mouse in my sheets while I was away. Um- good kitty? Check. Also ironed.
   
4. Visit the parents- coincided this with trash/recycling day and watered their garden. Check.
5. Buy a lawnmower. Check. Sears Craftsman electric- I am nervous around motors and sharp spinning blades. I borrowed my neighbor's little B&D electric last year and it was just right for me. I looked for the same, but Home Depot just had some no-name, so I went with Sears- I know they fix and back their products. While I was out, I also hit JLPlum's, Christmas Tree Shop and a few other stores. Woo-hoo!
6. Buy a lopper to trim out the forsythia bushes in front, the spirea next to the steps and the lilacs on the upper level. Check.
   
7. Mow the "lawn". This is not actually grass, but a succession of weeds. The upper level was knee-high; the lower level not so bad because Ted had come over and mowed it once for me. Before I could do this, I had to weed- as in bend over and yank out by hand thousands of knee-high, tough-stalked weeds. I don't know what they are but they are not grass, they are pervasive, and they grow like crazy. I also had to...
8. Trim out the forsythia bushes in front, the spirea next to the steps and the lilacs on the upper level.
9. Trim out the dead lilacs; the last of the big hedge work we started in June. There were a lot of dead lilacs on the upper level. See?

That's a lot of stumps. Glad I had the lopper for the the smaller branches, but I used the shark saw on the bigger stumps. Still need to rake but first the lawn...
I also pulled an incredible amount of weeds:
There is still a considerable amount of gardening to do; I need to weed my stone garden out, & dig up a marsh rose in it that's trying to rule the world (I cut it back, but it needs to be eliminated.)
Lora came over and offered me a Rose of Sharon bush that will do quite well in place of the marsh rose (which is too thorny and send out huge long creepers that tear me up when I'm gardening). I am pretty excited, so I will do the perennial garden next. Because I knew I'd be digging and planting, "I was at Home Depot and could not resist these:
Fleabane, phlox and something else purple. All the deadly things in my garden have died off (gardening irony?), so I have some empty spaces. Also, between Ted's mow job and the avid helpers, my butterfly bush got yanked up. I'll need a few more fillers, and I usually get my plants at a nursery, but these will do fine for now and the price was right. So "I am off again on my travels, then when I return, I will finish the yard, if the creek don't rise and the Good Lord's willin'.
The kitties will be pissed- they love the jungle. Can you even see Sorcha hiding in the perennial bed weeds? Only if I move them...
Of course, Cujo prefers to just loll around in the catmint:
So the "lawn" looks at least more controlled. I need another extension cord so I can reach the very end, but the jungle has been tamed.

Hey, look! The Alzheimers fundraisers forgot to take down their sign from the race last week!
Is that more irony?
OK, I am all stinky and sweaty, so it's time to take a shower and get packed, and get ready for a cookout. I am so psyched, but I will have to leave it early to drive up to the place I am working tomorrow (more that 2 hours away from where I will be:( !)
But my jungle is starting to be tamed. Look at these rust-colored daylilies!
And the mallows! I found a scion growing in the center of the lower lawn, so I transplanted it to the corner and I hope it takes. This one is the mommy...
Even though I am far from done, I made a very good start, especially since I have to do it in spurts. My energy is not consistent, and I wheeze when I work too hard. But I am glad I got so much done, and I look out and feel satisfied. I think the day is fast approaching when I" will need to hire someone to come and do the yardwork for me, but for now, it's ok.

100 Books Meme

This one is a list of books. My star-rated favourites are in red, ones I have read in bold, un-read plain and plan-to-reads in italic.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen-I have read most of her works. The social strata and rules are complex and foreign but a love story is a love story and the bad guys get comeuppance. What's not to like?
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien - I have read nearly everything JRRT has written. I find his worlds intricate, complex and thorough, as well as just damn entertaining.
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte. Broody hero who plays mind games, but she still loves the guy.
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling-see previous posts. Again- great world, great characters, rollicking storylines.
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee. Didn't really like it.
6 The Bible - I’ve read most of it. The summer I was thirteen, I decided to read it, unguided. I have gone back and read parts of it again. I think a study group might be nice to do someday.
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte. I didn't like Heathcliffe and Cathy was a wimp. Her sister was the better author.
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell. I read and re-read this in my teens and found it chilling.
9 His Dark Materials-on my to-read list
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens. Not my favourite Dickens book.
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott. Every little girl born in the US in this century has read this. And cried over Beth. I liked Little Men better, though, and Rose in Bloom better still.
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy. Still better than the movie.
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller. Read this in my twenties, but it didn't make a huge impression on me.
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare - I’ve read many of his works , including the sonnets; my mom had a complete works volume in tiny print. Can't claim to have read all, though.
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier. I liked this one when in my teens.
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien. See above.
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks. Never heard of it.
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger. Amusing, but not on my list of greats.
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger. Nope.
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell. Very good book. You can get lost in the drama. Scarlett was a total uneducated bitch, though- what a waste.
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald. It was interesting.
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens. On the list- one of the few Dickens books I haven't gotten to.
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy. On the list- one of these days when I have time.
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams - laughed my fanny off over this series. Gotta love sci-fi!
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh. Nope.
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Nope
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck. Yup. Sad.
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll. Yup. He had to have been on acid.
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame. Weird. And I usually like fantasy, but these talking rodents didn't do it for me. Brits can be very weird.
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy. Nope
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens. Good one, but Dora was a wuss.
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis. Loved them.
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis Hello? this is on twice?
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini. Just heard of it.
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden - liked it and enjoyed the movie too.
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne. This kind of crap makes me want to vomit.
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery. Loved everything she wrote.
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood - Atwood is a genius.
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan. Not yet.
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel. Not yet
52 Dune - Frank Herbert - read most of the Dune books but they just won't stop- now his son writes them. Enough already!
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons. Never heard of it.
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth.Never heard of it.
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon.Never heard of it.
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens. A favourite- "tis a far far better thing I do..."
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon. Very interesting- I loved his perspective.
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Not yet.
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck. Sad.
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov - Gripping.
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt. Never heard of it.
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold -
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac - Nope.
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy. Had to read in college. Blocked it out.
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick-Herman Melville. Not yet, but a friend's husband write his dissertation on Melville.
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens. Yup.
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker. Yup. One summer I read a lot of horror. HG Lovecraft was my favourite. I swore I could hear scratching in the walls...
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett - Yup.
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson. Never heard of it.
75 Ulysses - James Joyce - If I had a nickel for every time I picked this one up and tried to get through it… I did read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and was equally confused.
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath - Chilling. Loved it.
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome. Never heard of it.
78 Germinal - Emile Zola. Nope.
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray. Nope.
80 Possession - AS Byatt. Never heard of it.
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens. Loved it.
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker. Great story.
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro - nope.
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert. nope.
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry. Never heard of it.
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White. Eh. Talking bugs and pigs.
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom. I don't think so.
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes- Arthur Conan Doyle. yup.
90 The Faraway Tree Collection. Never heard of it.
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad. No but I adore "Light in the Forest".
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery. Wrote a paper on it in French class.
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks. Never heard of it.
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams. Yup.
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole. Never heard of it.
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas.nope.
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare. Yup. "What a piece of work is m an, how noble in reason..."
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl. Yup
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo. It was a tough read, but I did it.

So- I read 56 of 100. However- two were counted twice- once as a series, once as a book. A big sprinkling of children's books- 13 (although the HP series is listed as one) entries.

I collect children's books, and I surely don't consider Pooh to be a must-read.

I do not fear to say I never heard of a book on the list. What standards were used to compile it? Are they books every educated person should have read? Books that most Americans most likely would have read? Am I a moron because I haven't gotten around to Salman Rushdie? I've read a number of other Nobel prizewinners, some of whom most Americans wouldn't recognize.

Maybe I need to make my own top 100 list.