TAMARA FOR DUMMIES CH VI or Tamara mellows towards Mr. Twain (somewhat)

Dedicated to my Jr. High English teacher who may have detected a nascent talent for smart-aleckiness in me when she gave me an A+ on an writing assignment on irony.  (It's terrible to flash and burn so young...)

As of 8:03 a.m. today (OK, OK, starting from 1:07 a.m. yesterday) I have felt a tad bit more mellow towards one Mr. Twain.  And this mellowing is probably just as well, as my previously sour attitude towards him and life in general has only spread disaster faster to two most beloved friends who are incidentally also my only two fans! 

[Remember: See urgent bulletin update to TAMARA FOR DUMMIES Ch V...but do not read that chapter itself!  You have been warned!...]

[Tip: Pic Attached @ top of blog is not of either of friends....]

For in Mr. Twain's Chapter V of "The Innocents Abroad", he does help me to, hopefully, grow in wisdom.  Like one awesome Helen Fielding and like me, Mr. Twain does love the melodramatic.  But when it comes down to it, he has his head on straight enough as to recognize and appreciate the sane and the beautiful in life.  During their first 10 days of his journey towards all of Europe and the Holy Land,  Mr. Twain lays down some rather histrionic and depictive musings RE horrible weather and related seasickness of fellow passengers (but no illness of his own...that showoff!) but then slyly inserts the following wiseguy comment:

"...but for the most part we had balmy summer weather and nights that were even finer than the days..."

How is that for making me feel quite loathsome for enjoying his previously sour rantings!  (Although by the end of the paragraph Mr. Twain refers to himself as a "Joshua' which I believe is his attempt to make  himself seem more saintly and godly...conceited fellow that he is!)

[OK, I Remember, I Remember: ...Be mellow towards Mr. Twain...be mellow towards Mr. Twain....]

And then Mr. Sly-Guy starts a written sketch of the nautilus, a strangely ugly sea creature, which he may have been describing in order to tell us more than what meets-the-surface.

[Technical Stuff:  For reasons of " pompous purity" in gathering my blogly thoughts together, I have intentionally avoided synopses and interpretations from scholarly or other sorts on said "Innocents Abroad" as I do not want to be swayed in what I think, ponder or interpret until after "TAMARA FOR DUMMIES" has been completed.  At that point I will have plenty of time (Lord Willing!) to feel stupid, yes dumb, for any/all of my musings which are off base.  In the meanwhile, ignorance is bliss...]

Back to Twain:

"The nautilus is nothing but a transparent web of jelly that spreads itself to catch the wind, and has fleshy-looking strings a foot or two long dangling from it to keep it steady in the water. It is an accomplished sailor and has good sailor judgment. It reefs its sail when a storm threatens or the wind blows pretty hard, and furls it entirely and goes down when a gale blows. Ordinarily it keeps its sail wet and in good sailing order by turning over and dipping it in the water for a moment..."

Wow!  This seemingly unintelligent stringy blob-of-jelly creature was given a gift from God for weathering storms!  Now, is knowing how to weather storms not a valuable thing?  If storms threaten or winds blow, reef your sail!  If gales blow, furl your sail entirely and go down beneath the surface!  Keep your sail wet and in good sailing order by turning over and dipping it in "The Water" for a moment (spiritual connotation intended)...

[Technical Stuff:  OK, if you know not what reefing your sail, furling your sail, etc. mean...look them up!  I had to...If I have to wade through nautical terms, so do you!]

Nextly, it does cross my mind, RE his Ch IV discouragements against my blogging that Mr. Twain was may-hap (may-hap is a cool word, is it not?...but what does it mean?) was may-hap being a slight bit kind in prodding me to fortify myself against giving in to potential discouragements...(such as in only having two fans).  If he hadn't, perhaps I would even now have quit my blogging, and wouldn't you be sad?  (Helloooo...are you out there?)

Next nextly, I somewhat mellow toward Mr. Twain, as I aspire to learn more on how to use the pen to poignantly describe the beauty of God's world around me...a gift I do not have but perhaps could learn by eavesdropping on "Kings of the Pen" such as Twain...(OK, Mr. Twain, please don't let THAT go to your head....)  He is not among the best depictors of scenery like, say, John Wagner author of Maxine is, but he does have much more adeptness and experience than I...

"The island in sight was Flores. It seemed only a mountain of mud standing up out of the dull mists of the sea. But as we bore down upon it the sun came out and made it a beautiful picture--a mass of green farms and meadows that swelled up to a height of fifteen hundred feet and mingled its upper outlines with the clouds. It was ribbed with sharp, steep ridges and cloven with narrow canyons, and here and there on the heights, rocky upheavals shaped themselves into mimic battlements and castles; and out of rifted clouds came broad shafts of sunlight, that painted summit, and slope and glen, with bands of fire, and left belts of somber shade between. It was the aurora borealis of the frozen pole exiled to a summer land!"

But, before I am in danger of being in the way of far to kind to Mr. Twain, let me [Remember:] you by pointing out Mr. Twain's fascination w/ the macabre...

"We skirted around two-thirds of the island, four miles from shore, and all the opera glasses in the ship were called into requisition to settle disputes as to whether mossy spots on the uplands were groves of trees or groves of weeds, or whether the white villages down by the sea were really villages or only the clustering tombstones of cemeteries. "

And by making mention of the fact, that by way or being coddled by his mama when but a boy, or by way of too much testosterone, I do not know, but Mr. Twain, like all of the adult boys of the male species whom I know, likes his toys...

"We landed under the walls of a little fort, armed with batteries of twelve-and-thirty-two-pounders, which Horta considered a most formidable institution, but if we were ever to get after it with one of our turreted monitors, they would have to move it out in the country if they wanted it where they could go and find it again when they needed it. "

Yuk!  Boys and their Toys usually involve weapons or killing or explosions....

Well, I digress.  Let me wrap up my musings on Twain's Ch V by tipping my hat (oops..wrong blog) to God and His nautilus.  If a sculptor, such as my dear Poppy, were to create an abstract sculpture of me after the end of my 110 years on earth (Poppy will be 141 by that time), I dream that an apt depiction would look something like the nautilus' post-life sculpture.  It is amazingly beautiful and I think it is in mind of how the layered years of a persons life should hopefully spiral and shape in him into growing in breadth of understanding, of love and of wisdom...

TAMARA FOR DUMMIES Ch V an urgent news bulletin!!!!!

****FOR ALL AND SUNDRY (yes, again...) "TAMARA FOR DUMMIES" blog readers WHO DO NOT WISH TO BE SUMMONED FOR JURY DUTY:****

Urgent update!  Every one my readers (both of them) who read previous blog Ch V have been since summoned for Jury Duty.  If you are among those slackers who do not wish to do their Civil Duty, please refrain from reading Ch V! 

(I can't believe I'm discouraging readership!)

ps: proud of self...no spelling errors detected by Google Tool Bar ABC "check"...

TAMARA FOR DUMMIES Ch V or "This Guy is Getting More Annoying and Creepier All the Time."

Dedicated to other misunderstood literary aspirants such as myself....

[Remember:  Yes, I do tend to wallow in the occasional pity-party.]

Sometimes I wonder if I'm living in a strange parallel get-me-outta here Universe with this Mr. Mark Twain guy...or if I'm in some terrible nightmare with his alter-ego, a one Sir Edgar Allan Poe.  In any case, this Twain guy's getting creepier and more annoying all the time! 

I couldn't sleep much last night in anticipation of a day today of Jury Duty.  Yes, I was called upon to contribute my non extensive understanding of all things legal, moral, ethical and/or ought-to-be and help decide the fate of some poor soul who has been either:

1) wishing and wishing that he hadn't done sum'n that he shouldn'a done and now is having to pay the piper with to-be-decided upon time periods of his life locked up with people whose sole purpose in life is to make his more miserable....

2)  or (deep breath so I might continue)... some poor soul who is just trying to get back some fraction of some $ from someone who wronged him but in the process is having to single handedly support an attorney, the attorney's one wife, two dogs, three fish and four generations of said attorney's offspring.

Anyway, I digress.  I was trying to let you know that I was SO excited about this Jury Duty prospect that I could barely sleep all night long for the joy of being called upon to serve as a much-wanted and useful citizen. Thus while wide awake I determined to find out what was up with Mr. Twain and the poor 5 captains unfortunate enough to be in authority over him for 3 long months traveling over all parts of Europe and the Holy Land.

And do you know in turn what this Mr. Twain had the nerve to taunt me with?!  My blogging!  Yes, back 500 years ago when he was pompously and without sea sickness (grrrr) sailing by the Graces of God towards the beauty of Europe, he took the time to make me feel really unsure about my blogging skills and goals! 

"At certain periods it becomes the dearest ambition of a man to keep a faithful record of his performances in a book; and he dashes at this work with an enthusiasm that imposes on him the notion that keeping a journal is the veriest pastime in the world, and the pleasantest. But if he only lives twenty-one days, he will find out that only those rare natures that are made up of pluck, endurance, devotion to duty for duty's sake, and invincible determination may hope to venture upon so tremendous an enterprise as the keeping of a journal and not sustain a shameful defeat."

AND not much later on....

"If you wish to inflict a heartless and malignant punishment upon a young person" (that could be me...I'm not that old.) "pledge him to keep a journal a year." 

How does he do that?  How does he know exactly what's going on in my and his contemporaries' minds and know how to so quickly dash our fondest hopes and expectations while keeping himself so free of the flinging mud?!  And look at this!  If you think I am exaggerating about the Edgar Allan Poe allusion, well, read this next macabre bit from his Ch IV narrative!

"Several times the photographer of the expedition brought out his transparent pictures and gave us a handsome magic-lantern exhibition. His views were nearly all of foreign scenes, but there were one or two home pictures among them. He advertised that he would "open his performance in the after cabin at 'two bells' (nine P.M.) and show the passengers where they shall eventually arrive"--which was all very well, but by a funny accident the first picture that flamed out upon the canvas was a view of Greenwood Cemetery!"

OK, OK, now this is the part which convinces me that he knew very well that I was among those whom he taunted!  For not may paragraphs shy of wrapping up his Ch IV, he throws this in: 

"We also had a mock trial. No ship ever went to sea that hadn't a mock trial on board. The purser was accused of stealing an overcoat from stateroom No. 10. A judge was appointed; also clerks, a crier of the court, constables, sheriffs; counsel for the State and for the defendant; witnesses were subpoenaed, and a jury empaneled after much challenging. The witnesses were stupid and unreliable and contradictory, as witnesses always are. The counsel were eloquent, argumentative, and vindictively abusive of each other, as was characteristic and proper. The case was at last submitted and duly finished by the judge with an absurd decision and a ridiculous sentence."

[Technical Stuff:  I lament that I have even given Mr. Twain the satisfaction of quoting him so much as in my entry today.  But I fear you would not grasp the full significance of what I say if I wasn't backing it up with very cold hard evidence!]

At least he left me the dignity, for the time being, of his referring to a Trial by Judge, and not a Trial by Jury.  So, after very little sleep I arose this morning, downed  a gallon of good strong coffee and hurried over to the Court House where I knew I would be appreciated! 

And I left disconsolate...

For, after handing out 50 numbered, gavel-shaped cardboard fans to "unappreciates" other potential jurors continuing on with the selection process, men and women who inmediately cursed and lamented the fact that they were not yet being recused, I and about 5 other shame-faced rejects headed home... a mere 30 minutes into the morning....

I can say no more.  It is just too hard.  But don't fret yet.  Mr. Twain may be throwing every possible object in my path by which to thwart my literary goals, but I am a little too plucky, determined, enduring, semi-invincible and stubbornly devoted to give in....you and he are not rid of me that easily.....

TAMARA FOR DUMMIES Ch IV update for those who have lost sleep since aforementioned Ch IV was 1st published

We all live but I attest not to the stability of our hithertofore friendships and the longetiviy of one black and white furred "Bad Kitty", a contrary creature which must surely be on its 9th already, but I have no guarantee of this....

Alas, one aforementioned friend at the last moment was not able to come to our "fete", leaving us at 4 guests, which ironically may have saved us from much-feared doom.  Some in the group desire to claim "Bad Kitty" as the 5th, but isn't this just asking for trouble from "the gods" and I do not think that this would be a fair substitution in light of the fact that....

1) The aforementioned friend is much too dear of one to ever be replaced by a feline and....

2)  Cats are on an entirely different "lives-scales" than we mere humans are and the cat, who has potentially much less to lose, is in the way of just bringing us down that much faster!

TAMARA FOR DUMMIES Ch IV (or "Oh, no, this can't be good...")

Dedicated to: Rachel, Sharon, Debbie, Becky and REALLY wishing you were amongst the list....Shirley)

I am in much trepidation. For after visiting with Mr. Twain in his Chapter III of "Innocents Abroad" I have much fear and foreboding as to whether....

[Technical Stuff: Oh, that's how you spell the word "whether"...I just couldn't get it right earlier today while trying to quickly send a low-tech, no, don't want spell-check, just want to get this note posted message to someone on Face Book.]

....as to whether or not I will live out the evening without either:

1) Getting group food poisoning

2) Having a major rift develop between me and some much-loved friends and potentially living out my years as an unwilling hermitess and/or

3) Getting arrested for unknowingly (and completely in innocence, Mr. FBI-Man!) violating some or all of those scary copyright infringement laws which are always ominously plastered before, during and after any movie recording purchased or rented for entertainment purposes only!

In other words my most-eagerly anticipated "Irony Chef America Party" for tonight is doomed! You see, under my annoying instigation, some lady friends and I are are gathering tonight to watch a home recording (no, I'm NOT collecting $ for this!) of "Iron Chef" and "Iron Chef America" whilst we eat low-brow food of the cheeze whiz and crackers, unwashed garden vegetables and fudgecicles variety. (This the "irony" part of our event's "title", for those of you who are likely too intelligent to be able to stoop low enough to get my low-brow humor.)

And my impeding party-disaster really is all Mr. Twain's fault.

[Remember: During my last blog I was quite happy with this gentleman, even to the point of presuming upon him a first name acquaintance!]
For the last three of his five Chapter III subtitles are as follows:

3. "Tribulation Among the Patriarchs" referring to the fact that all and sundry (again) of the older passengers on board ship develop sea sickness and cannot keep their breakfasts down!

[Technical Stuff: Did I happen to mention that I and the other ladies attending the party, as per my interpretation, are what Mr. Twain describes as "elderly" - we being of the 40ish-50ish year-old age range and at least one of whom is very close to that terrible doorway of 60 years of age (oops...I think I just started that aforementioned rift)!]
4. "Seeking Amusement Under Difficulties" under which Mr. Twain finds himself bored on-board and gets himself into all sorts of trouble with the...

5. "5 Captains in the Ship" in which Mr. Twain finds that, just like too many cooks in the kitchen, that 5 captains on ship are about 4 too many and that any transgressions he may commit are bound to be noticed by so many authority figures all hovering around at one time.

OK, so up to about 10 minutes ago any party forebodings I may have "entertained" based on Mr. Twain's Chap III were quickly brushed aside because the # of ladies who were planning to attend my aforementioned "Irony Chef America" party were to be 6, not 5. Thus the too many captains/cooks linking our festivities to Mr. Twain's terrible day aboard ship seemed tenuous at best.

But alas, I just received a Face Book message from my hostess for tonight (thanks a lot Sharon!) letting me know that the sixth lady, possibly the most senior of us, the most level-headed, the kindest and the most even-keeled (oh, cool, another shipping word tossed into the mix...wait, is "mix" mixing shipping and cooking/noncooking...???? Much confusion)...well, what I was trying to tell you is that the 6th lady is now no longer coming to our little "fete"!

That makes 5 of us attending, as in "5 captains in the ship" and we are doomed!!!!!

OK, with all of that said, I'll maybe get back to you later, if I'm able after such a traumatic event as which hovers over my horizon (wow! shipping word!) and let you know how it all "cooks up" (whew! I amuse myself to no end with these pungent little cooking/shipping phrases lading my post....No, I did NOT think of Emily Post when I put that last word in...)

Well, anyway, I only hae 3 more hours to ready for my doom, but, hopefully I'll "see" you later...

TAMARA FOR DUMMIES Ch III (or , in a really deep and pompous voice: “What we prepare for man we should be saving for God”).

Dedicated to all of my Golden Friends

OK. Stay with me. I know the Chapter intro sounds really stiff and stodgy....but hang in there with me. For today I am rejoicing! I am the child of a prodigiously loving Father who has widely opened His arms and is today enveloping not only me but also two of my “sisters” into His more than ample arms and is giving us this like awesomely great big huge hug....(lingo inspired by "Abs")....Anyway, for me, This is the best entry yet.....!!!!

[Technical Matter: OK, for those of you who are in some way shape or form perfectionistic (wait- is that last phrase an oxymoron? English experts...you never answer my questions!...where are you?) Mark (see below) is on Chapter II at this point in his journeys but I am in Chapter III of mine. Let's just put this down to the fact that Mark (see below) is much smarter than I and it takes me more time to get things done. I'll just have to live with that.]

Last night I was rather glum and down due to matters which are not so vital to today's commentary other than the matter of not my not having inspiration for my next “blog". And Mark......

[Reminder: Okay, here's the "(see below)" part. “Mark” = “Twain”, for those of you who have just picked up my story line. Do you mind if I call him Mark? I don't think he minds...I don't want to call him “Sam” as that is my earthly dad's name and a lot of talk about “Sams” and “Fathers” all in the same passage would make my head swim as I'm sure my dialogue makes your's. And Mr. Twain sounds so formal in light of the fact that he and I are about to commence on quite a long journey together.]

…......OK, so Mark who had been in great anticipation of this trip was mentally floating about The City proud that he had been one of “The Elite & Chosen” to board upon this auspicious three-month long journey to ALL parts of Europe and the Holy Land.... a journey such as anybody who was anybody would that very season be taking either with his or with another tour group. And please note that HIS group was very especially scrutinized and very especially handpicked. Le crème de le crop.

However, Mark was to be but a “minor passenger” (no, not mining....minor! We're talking about intangible matters here...) among many “Imposing Dignitaries” and had resigned himself to being “in” but having to take a back seat to those who were renowned and generally acknowledged to be most important personages. If you believe me not, here are his exact words! “I had carefully prepared myself to take rather a back seat in that ship because of the uncommonly select material that would alone be permitted to pass through the camel's eye of that committee on credentials.” Wow and sigh! Did he have the gift of the pen or what?!

Alas, by the end of his chapter II we are left aghast! For not only had all of the most select of the group dropped out of the expedition for “other and sundry” reasons (I have seen that remark before somewhere) but by the time the ship left port it was raining cats and dogs, therefore not only gloomy, but in the way of having put a damper on the festivities of their Bon Voyage Celebration, the ladies having lost their beautiful freshness and the men having lost their noise toys which were too wet to pop. To top it all off, the ship having left dock, ended up having to drop anchor and lie still in the calm of the harbor mouth until the fierceness of the storm abated. It would, in our not too distant past, be like preparing for take off in the Concorde for a trip of a lifetime to Le Paris and then being put in a holding pattern until the fog clears enough for the pilot to have visual and the passengers not to fear imminent death.

Now understanding, we believe, the great understated wisdom of where Mark is leading us, with the following warm words he ends his chapter II: “However, there is always a cheering influence about the sea; and in my berth that night, rocked by the measured swell of the waves and lulled by the murmur of the distant surf, I soon passed tranquilly out of all consciousness of the dreary experiences of the day and damaging premonitions of the future.” (Have I yet said, “Wow, he's good!?)

And here is where I take my first (???) aside...

[Tip: If you believe that last phrase of mine, I have some nice swamp land in Florida....]

...and to quote another wise man, a one St. Augustine who confessed these words in the year....huh, it was...well....well..sometime well before last year: “Men go abroad to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering.”

And today, the day after the night I worried about “blogly” inspiration for Mark's Chapter II, knowing that a path is usually opened if I but wait and not fret, I heard from a long lost “sister” with whom I and another dear friend had been parted many a year and under mysterious circumstances (which we later learned were caused by “nothing more” than combined stresses of the sorrows and joys of life.) And I realize that human nature is to give up on others at some point and that this giving up is really giving up on ourselves due to feelings of unworthiness.

And all these matters tied together in my mind with the running thread of man's tendency to look for validation from others when it actually God who gives the blessings and it is for Him to hold them safe. If we were to but look around us at God's creation, as is to be seen not only in our own environs but in those across the far reaches of the globe, we could not help but know that we have been putting our eyes on the wrong focus. And cheesy as it may sound, God reminded me, as perhaps He reminded Mark during that time he was hunkered down in the mouth of the harbor, that He is the one we should keep our eyes on because He always keeps His eyes on us! And that's a good and remarkable thing!

TAMARA FOR DUMMIES II a serious amendment to....

I am inconsolable. I made a serious error in judgment yesterday. The gondolier should have sounded like Pavarotti, not the aforementioned David Cook. I love you David, but you don't have the right accent for the part. I'll get you fit into my (blog???) somehow though.....Or get back with me if you already know or have picked up Italian with the proper sexy accent. I may perhaps reconsider.

TAMARA FOR DUMMIES PT II or AM I CRAZY?

Dedicated to my first visitors in my new home: Sharon and Sarah- two more beautiful, gracious and kind faces the likes of which I have never before seen
Okay, I rolled up my sleeves the other day, licked the tip of my pencil (why do people do that?), expounded on at length of great and lofty expectations of current and future grandeur and enlightenment to be given to me through the gift of the pen pencil.... and then I.... I …....still had to move. I mean big time move. Bret & I from one 4-bed 2-bath 2-story home lived in by up to 5 people at once, occupied by three different family dogs (never all at once) and one foster dog wilder and stronger than any amiable fire-breathing dragon which ever existed, our house having been filled with tons of treasures and junk accumulated over...let's see...what 's it been? 13 or 14 years of my family's life AND figure out what to keep and how to fit what we need into a studio apartment.
[Reminder: Have my sentences become longer than Hawthorne's yet?]
So, as I gaily skipped and sang my way back from our “computer station” at our parent's home (alas, I have no cell camera to snap a picture of this cute little nook) across the gravel drive (OUCH! THAT WAS A ROCK I STUBBED MY TOE ON WHILE SKIPPING!!! Bret- Do we know where we packed the bandaids?) and over to our new apartment I could hardly breath in happy anticipation of reading the first chapter of Mark Twain's Innocents Abroad.
[Tip and Possible Reprimand: Ok, I now officially owe a cyber you-know-what to anyone who's already read “Tamara for Dummies Pt I. I just gave away the whole kit and caboodle to any one dumber than I who had not yet figured out the author and book of my chosen tome. I mean, come on now, if my clues weren't enough for you, would I really have known if you had used a search engine to earn your brownie? Do I really appear to be that computer saavy?]
[Technical Stuff on the Tip and Possible Reprimand: Is it redundancy to put the two words “already” and “read” next to each other in the same sentence? Think about it and all you wise English experts can let me know.]
Now, this is the really good stuff. Because in Chapter I of Innocents Abroad Mark Twain spends innumerable amounts of time, letters, words, wit and ink describing this to-be-taken 3-month-long tour over all parts (I mean ALL parts) of Europe and the Holy Land, jumping on and off ships, boats, trains, airplanes and other and sundry 19th century conveyances. So now, not only am I moving homes in the real world here but I'm also traveling hither and yonder over all parts of “who-knows-where” and “you-know-where I wish I could be”- in Italy surreally floating on a canal listening to the golden voice of a gondolier who looks remarkably like Colin Firth and sounds like David Cook, in Paris strolling the Avenue des Champs-Élysées with an no-limit Visa card the bill of which is to be paid for by the estate of my never-known-existed before Uncle Cosmo who just passed way from a painless death, leaving me as the sole beneficiary of his entire estate or in Israel experiencing my closest ever to God as I frantically dodge terrorist bombs and remind Him that I'm not quite ready to go yet....and yes, I'm mixing my and Mark's time-lines together...but this is MY imagination, not yours and I think I have A.D.D. so hush up!)
And to be really honest, I CAN'T MOVE ANYMORE! I'm tired and I want my mommy just need to get some rest! Well, thankfully I finally was able to unwind a little last night and got maybe six hours sleep, so that was good. And Mark's still there for me waiting to actually commence on our trip together.
[Reminder: So far Mark & I have just been writing about the pleasure trip we WILL take. We haven't even really started yet....it just feels like it.]
And I'm thankful that good ol' Mark just happens to be patient enough with me to pick up our journey together after I get however many zzzzz's I think I need to be fresh and perky for the trip.
So, how's 'bout I catch up with you and Mark in say, 36 hours when I wake up from a quiet afternoon nap, and I'll be rearing to go. See ya then!

"TAMARA FOR DUMMIES" Part I (a potential mini blog along the line of the one from "Julie and Julia" or "Julia and Julie" but not so many installments

Dedicated to: (You may skip this part but then you may be one of the people I'm thanking and then you would feel really bad if you never knew that I was thanking you, wouldn't you? ) Don't worry, I'm confusing myself too. Anyway, dedicated to by secret catergory and in no particular order of gratefulness: My mom and dad, Rachel and Lori Jo, and Sandy.

From a precognitive age (as my parents are both bibliophiles) I have loved books. However, over the last several years or so due to health issues or a self-suspected case of late onset A.D.D. ............................. (oops, sorry, I'm back now)... or perhaps some other unknown factor, I do not know, I have not been able to read much more than my friends' and family's Facebook profiles, a wikipedia paragraph or my completed Crosstics puzzle quote before I lose interest and put the reading aside.

[Techical Stuff: Yes, part of that last paragraph has an infintisimal little bit of a Jane Austen feel to it, I detect that. I do confess to very easily succumbing to the perhaps most romantic of the classical writers...but I jump ahead of myself.]

[Technical Technical Stuff: Yes, the irony of my confessing a short attention span and then asking you to keep with me during this lengthy introspective is not lost on me.]

One day it suddenly occured to me that I am a couple of years shy of 50 (sigh and sssshhhhh) and there are so many classic books out there with which I've always assumed I would "get around to" reading that even if I read nonstop between now and my eventual death at a very sagacious 110 years of age I could barely put a dent in all the great literature that may perhaps still intrigue, stimulate or edify me if I could/would but only push myself to read past the first chapter or two.

[Remember: (Sorry, cat's out of the bag. I have read more that just one paragraph or two at a time in recent years. Let's upgrade that to a page a two at a time.)]

[Technical Stuff: And Yes, that last nonbulleted paragraph was probably just a really really really run-on sentence, but fess up. Some of the old guys like Dickens did like to put together lonnnnnng sentences. You could fall asleep and take a nap a wake up two hours later if someone was reading but one Hawthrone sentence to you during story time.]

And you guessed it (being as intelligent and preceptive as you are)- I am going to start reading (but not here to you) of the abundance of dried ink but not dried-idea treaures called "classic literature" (novels primarily) and just see where it gets me by that time 60 something years from now when I joyfully and with full attention enter the Pearly Gates. (A.D.D is not a factor up there.)

And so this morning, picking up seemingly at random off the bottom corner-shelf of my mother's room-size much labored-over personal library, I come across a tome with the following dedication- a sure sign that THIS is the book to start with! "TO MY MOST PATIENT READER AND MOST CHARITABLE CRITIC, MY AGED MOTHER, THIS VOLUMN IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED" Ah, now this is a well-written dedication, is it not?

[Tip: (If you can guess who/what it is without using a search engine of any sort, consider yourself the recipient of a cyber brownie)]

And this particular tome has these opening lines in the preface: "This book is a record of a pleasure trip. If it were a record of a solemn scientific expedition, it would have about it that gravity, that profundity, and that impressive incomprehensibility which are so proper to works of that kind, and withal so attractive." Now, THIS is great stuff. This dude is really drawing me in (oops-gave a clue towards that cyber brownie).

............... Okay, I'm back now. THAT was my daughter's fault. She ousted me 30 minutes ago from the computer so she could take 5 minutes to send a quick e-mail......

And, anyway gotta go. I'm taking a CD sleeve being used as an impromtu bookmark out of ch. 1 pg 1 and am starting on my quest for the classics. My first trip is a date with "Markie Babie". He wasn't the cutest of authors but you gotta kinda love those funny guys. It's a charm thing. See ya!