Happy Valentines Day!!

Happy Valentines Day!!, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I have to admit that pole dancing is just not quite as fun out here as I had imagined. I realized tonight that it's partially because they need to make it a fitness class in order to sell broadly. So there is no dancing or real attitude involved. And that is the real reason they don't wear shoes. ahhhhh. It all becomes clear, There is a certain impersonal feel to it, and that feel is not unlike the general attitude I find in many places. Not unkind. Not impolite. Not cold. Just not really interested in your personal business, so please don't talk about it or show it.

Two Lips

Two Lips, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

Something about the seasons - seeing the little buds starting to peek out, feeling the drizzle that's just a bit warmer than last week, looking at the clock as it turns dark and happily seeing it's yet later in the day.... Something about living in LA and having a winter consist of a "cold" morning of 45 degrees, then returning to normal heat by afternoon - but in contrast, the long nights, the long damp weeks, the never ending cold... Once seeing those little signs of Spring, it feels more than ever like a affirmation of life. It feels like hope.

M

Saturday night was the big show in Hammersmith with Tony Moore, the keyboard player from Cutting Crew. And also a founding member of Iron Maiden - who knew. Anyhoo, he hosted a wonderful show a few weeks ago showcasing a number or very talented singer-songwriters in the area. This show was more of a magic show with a couple of songs about the origins of the Universe thrown in. He did a card trick, some memory tricks and was able to recall all US Presidents and all Prime Ministers AND pi to the 200th decimal. I wish I had that kind of free time.

I did get to play assistant, which is of course, my favorite. I do miss the stage..... And I suppose this counts as being on stage in London???? Perhaps. Not exactly what I had in mind though.

Fish Out of Water

It's been 2 months since I arrived on the island. My plan to better aquaint myself with myself is starting to work, but mostly in ways I didn't expect. But when someone is taken out of their comfort zone, you learn a lot about who they really are as they attempt to adjust. And so I find myself still in the spinning cycle of discombobulation. There is far more different here than I ever expected.

If you ever come over, be prepared that people will ask you if you are all right in such a way that you think certainly you must appear to be in distress. Which does in fact put me into distress. I was convinced for the first week that my mascara was running and I looked like I was crying. It sounded that bad when people said, "Are you alright???" The correct answer is, "Fine, thanks."

And London has a particular smell. I rather like it. It is a combination of coal dust, diesel and old rocks. It's fitting I think.

Black and White

Black and White, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

It's been six months. Oddly, I seem to be experiencing the loss more half a year later. Perhaps it's taken this long to get past the details one has to be immersed in when dealing with an estate and a house and a funeral, and so forth.

I reread the brain autopsy report. It's moving. In the sense that it is a summation of not only what killed my father, but also it's a description of the shell he left behind.

"Decendent is a n 85 year old male identified by left ankle tag...."

It was amazingly difficult to donate a brain. We wanted it studied - for cancer research. But funding has been cut and most places didn't have anywhere to put new brains. "Can you wait 6 months?" They said they might have room later. Although I didn't know at that point how imminent his death was, I knew it wasn't six months away.

This is six months away. February 18th.

"The skin is remarkable for...a linear crusted abrasion on the left knee..." He fell about a week before his death. He couldn't transfer from the wheelchair to the bed even. And he fell. And so those wounds on his knees never healed. They were suspended in time.

I keep hearing his words, as clear as water: "I've seen everything I want to see and done everything I want to do. So, I'm ready, I guess."

The House Where Nobody Lives

The House Where Nobody Lives, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

One of the first guys to arrive at the yard sale ( 30 minutes early) bought a big box of dolls and my doll house. Actually, it's a miniature house that I loved working on when I was in high school. I made furniture, food items, dishes, all sorts of things. It was more about fabrication than dolls. Actually, it never had tiny people in it. But I loved it and I loved working on it.

It stayed in it's corner for years and years, waiting to be loved by another.

When I sold it, I had the idea that I would be selling it to someone whose daughter was interested in minuatures. But the man was very interested in the whole kit, so he took it for $5.

I was so happy about it until at the end of the sale, I realized he had taken everything out of the house and left the house by the trash.

It was soaked with rain and falling apart by then.

Oddly, it mirrors this house where I grew up. It has been sitting patiently for someone to love it. But it is becoming ever more clear that it is quickly turning to trash.

I hope we can sell it for more than $5, though.

When your past lives on a porch...

When your past lives on a porch..., originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I can't describe what it feels like to have so many things you remember from childhood - bits of ephemora here and there - all sits together on your porch, waiting for a new home.

To have all that gathered as if to say, "This was the Modglin household, " feels like a misrepresentation. It is but highlights, or lowlights, of the Modglin house. Things my Mom and Dad liked, or collected, things they probably treasured. But that is gone. And what We, my brother and I, don't treasure, gets passed along to a new adventurer, all for a quarter.

Perhaps the real value of something is found in how much it is loved.

Memories Pour In

Memories Pour In, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I keep finding stacks of photos and a new set of memories gets triggered.

In this stack of polaroids, there is my favorite photo of my Mom and Dad. It was New Years, 1984. It was probably the biggest party my anti-social parents ever had. They look so happy. It was the last great photo I have of them. Later that year, my Mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor (same one my Dad had this year) and things were never the same.

Also in this stack, I found Gatlinburg photos from a trip I took in my Freshman year of college with my new college friends. I'm pretty sure that trip was the basis for a screwball comedy in the early 80s. It came complete with overheated radiator.

And finally, the photos my Dad took of the TV screen when he got high score on Ateroids (Atari, of course.)

Mystery #1

Mystery #1, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I cleaned out the linen closet today. It was pretty tame, so it didn't take long. There was one set of sheets that I remember from high school. And the rest I remember as being part of my parents linens. And then the newer ones I didn't recognize at all.

After packing them all up for the Salvation Army, I noticed something shoved to the back of the closet behind an outcropping of wood where my Dad had fashioned a shelving unit in the bathroom on the other side of the wall.

It was one of his paintings.

I remember very well this painting. It's from 1975. The black velvet years. I rather liked this one. I thought the cheese and his fabrics always worked well. But in this one, the sad overtones are a little disturbing. Besides the obvious noose on the tree and the cheese board, the knife stuck into the wood where the wine shadow is - makes it look like a knife through the heart. What on earth happened in 1975?

I'm Back!!

I'm Back!!, originally uploaded by daradactylBacktylfromEurope.

Now about this scarf. It has been in a bag since July 30, 2000. That's when I returned from my Mother's funeral. This was the scarf that the funeral home/make-up/dresser people put on her head since she had lost most of her hair during radiation therapy. The scarf matched her dress, which in turn matched the interior of the coffin. On a strange note, it also matched the glitter, yes I said glitter, that was on top of the lead liner thing that the casket was in once we got to the cemetery. Glitter? Really? How disco. The funeral director gave the scarf to me after they closed the casket. It smelled of formaldehyde. I hated that my Mom smelled like the things we dissected in Biology. And so it sat in a bag in storage until last week. It now smells like a storage box. Like a mix of cardboard, mildew and memories.

Golden Nugget, Christmas Night, 2008

Golden Nugget, Christmas Night, 2008, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

Pork chops and bad spaghetti. It was awesome.

We started out our very long trip on Christmas day. Not a bad idea. Everyone is very nice and the airports are not so crowded. The Chicago diversion was meant to visit my 97-yr-old Great Aunt Ruth who is not well. I'm telling you this because there are tons of people in Chicago I didn't visit and this is why. Too little time, one focus. Granted Aunt Ruth was so unwell that we ended up not seeing her at all, so we went to museums and met a couple of people in the city.

So we landed in Chicago at about 8p and cabbed to Tim's house where we were guaranteed a place for free as long as we fed his cats and fish. You see, Tim is in Wales with his wife and although we were meant to have a short visit, our paths did not cross this time.

However...

We got to his address and I realized I had no idea which apartment he lives in. We considered trying the keys in each door and I did try it on one door. But in the second apartment I could tell there were people at home. So we knocked and disturbed some very nice people during their Christmas Dinner.

They told us Tim lived on the floor above and up we went. Of course, once safe inside I also realized that I had no idea if we were meant to feed the fish, how much and if the cats were allowed out. So many missing details. Also, Tim's wife mentioned we could use her car. But trouble was we had no idea which car was hers or where on the streets of Chicago's Northside it might be parked.

We were in for a mystery.

Being hungry and it being Christmas, we knew our options were slim. I was hoping for a Christmas Story type Chinese Dinner. No luck. We ended up at the only thing open within walking distance. Golden Nugget. The Dennys of Chicago. With less pancakes.

It was a staple of my early years in Chicago back in the eighties. And it hasn't changed except the waitresses are younger. We had bad diner food. It was a Christmas Miracle.

Uploaded by daradactyl on 27 Jan 09, 7.00PM PST.

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The day started like this:

THE most Jetsons restaurant ever, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

We headed out to LAX, excited to be going on our Mexican Vacation. But the traffic was worse than expected, mostly because of detours due to the wildfires. We got to LAX an hour before the flight. We quickly got in line to check the bag. But it was the wrong line. They didn't accept international flights. So they directed us to another line. But it was much longer. By the time we got to the self-serve terminal, it was too late. We couldn't do self-check in, so it told us to see an agent. There were several, all of whom ignored our requests for assistance. That's when I started crying. I don't normally do that in public, but I was completely losing it and besides I thought it might help the pity factor.

Finally, someone looked through our papers and directed us to another line where we would have to wait to get rebooked on another flight. And so off we went to another line to wait for 90 minutes to get an agent to rebook our flights. If we had been directed to the correct self-serve terminals in the first place we would have made the flight.

So there we were in LAX with 24 hours to kill. So we spent a few of them at Encounters, the Jetsonesque restaurant in the middle of LAX. As you board the elevator, creepy theremin music serenades your ascent. We sampled all the drinks and decided it might as well be a 6 day vacation instead of 5........

Carnton Plantation

Carnton Plantation
Originally uploaded by daradactyl.

Sunset on the front porch. This is the plantation featured in the book, Widow of the South. I had assumed I would be taking more photos but the tour lasted until way after dark. We did however manage to see the many, many blood stains on the floor, still there 140 years later. There was also a couple of closet doors that opened mysteriously. It was kinda spooky. But a beautiful mansion. The family graveyard is in the background and a Confederate graveyard is just beyond that. Acording to our guide, after the Battle of Franklin, the Union Army (eventually) came to collect their dead. The Confederates were buried where they fell in shallow graves. After a couple of years as hands and such started to poke through, well, it became an issue. So Carrie McGavock, Mistress of the plantation, designated a plot of land for the Confederate cemetary. Workers were hired to find and exhume the nearly 2000 men and reinter them into a proper cemetary. Families still come today to find relatives.

The bloodstains on the floor, at this point illuminated by big spot lights since it was after dark while we were there, were mostly by the windows, which apparently was where they were doing most of the operating, or to be exact, the amputating. Limbs were piled up, legend says to the second story window. I think it wasn't quite thåt tall, but there were a lot of severed limbs. The closet doors that opened were creepy but the whole place had a very unsettling feeling about it. Much like an empty hospital, even though the house has been restored to the way it might have been the day of the battle BEFORE they turned it into a field hospital.

Fortunately, this house is still in the middle of wide open fields, so you really get a sense of what a plantation house was like. Very different than being 6 feet from my neighbors on each side as I am in LA.

365days-day216-buggy whip

365days-day216-buggy whip
Originally uploaded by daradactyl.

As I grow older, as everyone grows older, cells stop reproducing as rapidly. The body slows down. With some exceptions. Such as select body hair. You've all seen the old guys with hair growing from their ears, looking like smoke, giving them a cartoon-angry appearance. For me, it's the eyebrows. Now, I'm not a hairy person anyway. Being blonde, my hair tends to be fine and not noticeable. I have never shaved my legs above the knee because I have never needed to. So when I see long, wavy hairs SUDDENLY appear on my eyebrows, I get a little disturbed. They grow overnight and I wake up to their flap in the morning breeze. Who was the comedienne who referenced the hair growing from a mole on her grandmother's face? It was long, like a buggy whip.

Hello, tweezers!!!

365days-day180-falling

365days-day180-falling
Originally uploaded by daradactyl.

My face is falling. Yes, it's part of the aging process. Yes, it's made worse by running. Yes, it's genetics. Yes, I don't drink enough water. And yes, I must have some vanity because I think about it. Would I if I didn't live in a youth obsessed, beauty obsessed city? I dunno. Perhaps I should say my face is melting and chalk it up to Global Warming.....

I should write more.

Things are fine since that last dramatic outburst. But have I chosen to write about good things? Humdrum? Everyday life? My cat? Nooooooooo! I grew up in a family and a culture that really believed if you ignored it, it would go away. Wherein X is "it." And yet, the blog is still here, still empty. I had this page up for 2 days with nothing in it. So, this is my measly attempt to start back at...um...writing. Something.

365days-day147-hiding

365days-day147-hiding
Originally uploaded by daradactyl.

He says I'm insane. He says I am profoundly neurotic. He says I distort reality.

He says that his constant criticisms are really a way of saying I love you.
He says that I am broken.
He says that I am wrong.
He says that I am wrong for thinking that I am wrong, even when I am wrong.
He says that I don't know how to be loved.
He says that I can't tell the difference between when someone loves me and when they don't.
He says I should get my things and fuck off.

Flickr loves you, but Yahoo loves EVERYONE!

Flickr loves you, but Yahoo loves EVERYONE!
Originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I saw this on the way home. At the Yahoo offices in Burbank. I know it's on purpose because the other side says YA O ! Not as funny as Ho. I realize now that the reason this is blurry is because I was using my car door as a tripod, which has a speaker in it, which was blasting Amy Winehouse - Black to Black. I almost said Black in Black, but that would be AC/DC, wouldn't it? Somehow the Amy was more appropos. I'm still laughing.

A horse by my house

A horse by my house
Originally uploaded by daradactyl.

Back in the day, photographers traveled around neighborhoods and took pictures of kids sitting on old ponies. You paid them and they sent you photos later. This could never be done in this day and age for so many reasons. I mean can you imagine if a guy and an old pony showed up on your doorstep?? I remember this so well, except that I was three, so my reality was skewed. I remember the guy being really old and the pony not moving at all, which was disappointing. I wanted it to take off, after all I had boots and a hat!!! The old photographer gave me his hat to wear, which he had to prop on the back of my head so it wouldn't fall over my face. I wanted to hold the horse by the mane, but he told me to hold the sadle. Made sense, because that's the part I held onto at the grocery store 10 cent horse. i can't for the life of me now figure out why that was ever fun.

Anyhow, I am pretty sure I kept saying, "giddy up, horsey!" And I'm pretty sure my Mom was telling me to sit still. And I'm pretty sure I thought I was really going to get to ride the horse. But when the photo was over, the horse and the man left, with his hat. I still thought it was fun.

All my cousins had horses as did my first set of in-laws. And yet I never rode a horse until I was 22. And that was also the last time I rode a horse.

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365days-day121-Teri Nunn

365days-day121-Teri Nunn
Originally uploaded by daradactyl.

We went to see Berlin tonight. I dyed my hair for the occasion.

It was at the Starlight Bowl in Burbank. First off, I thought for 10 years that the Starlight Bowl was a bowling alley. It's an amphitheatre. It's about 1/4 mile from James' house. He'd never been either, but at least he knew you can't bowl there.

I knew it was going to be a good evening when I saw my real estate agent giving away fans at the entrance. The opening act was Naken Eyes. The audience was still trickling in so he played bravely to a crowd of maybe 1000. There was one song in there that I haven't heard since 1983. I only remember the video. desaturated blonde girl wakes up.... "at night she calls your name...'. Then Promises, Promises...my favorite. And Always Something There to Remind Me was the finale. It was fun and somewhat tragic that the "mosh pit" was filled with people with toddlers on their heads.

Then came Berlin. I dragged James down to the now crowded "mosh pit." It was wonderful. Teri sang beautifully, fully defending her title of number 11 on MTV's top female rock vocalists. She did the complete Berlin Greatest Hits, including our favorite "You Don't Know," which is a deep cut. Even she said so, but it is her favorite song. She sang 2 songs for her mom who passed away 4 months ago including an emotional acoustic "Ordinary World" from Duran Duran. We were all in tears. Her husband carried her on his shoulders all around the amphitheatre for 2 songs, allowing me to high five her. Her fake last song was Sex, always a crowd pleaser. And of course they came back to do Take My Breath Away as the finale. She dedicated it with a wonderful story of trying to have child. being around the same age, I feel for her. She said they tried for a long time and she finally knows why it never happened. And then she introduced her adopted daughter, Natalie. i was so touched and felt a certain peace in my nagging bio clock. She made her rounds of the theatre again on her husband's shoulders, and this time, James lifted me up on his. When she came back to the stage, we had a great "moment" of - hey! You're my size, with my hair, same build, on some guy's shoulders! It's like a mirror!!! We looked at eacjother and laughed. And for a second, I felt like I was Teri Nunn's best friend.

Being Burbank, the concert series must end early. So we were home by 9.