Archive
THE PROPERTY
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
The story of a Jewish grandmother returning to Warsaw with her granddaughter to look for the property her family owned prior to World War II. Presented as a graphic novel the simple drawings manage to portray the tragedy and recovery of a story kept secret for many years.
THE COOKED SEED: A MEMOIR
The Cooked Seed: A Memoir by Anchee Min
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I will admit that I am hopelessly drawn to memoirs and doubly trapped when written by a person from a different culture. Anchee Min has written many historical novels about Chinese history and culture. This is her story, well told and brutally honest.
She begins with her birthplace in Shanghai and continues until her daughter prompts her to write this memoir. She details her difficulty getting to America, adjusting to a new culture and learning a new language to her overpowering desire to have a child and the predicament she finds herself in achieving this.
A strong woman who overcomes her own demons, she is willing to admit her errors and bares them with brutal honesty. Her love of her daughter, her second husband and her connection to her family still in China shows the depth of her commitment to living honestly and achieving the best that one can.
NOT THE BEST NEWS, BUT NOT THE WORST, EITHER.
4:30 AM starts the day off, or finishes the night off as I fell asleep around 3:15. And, oh, how i would have loved to pull that blanket over my head and pretend I was Grace Jones for just a few more minutes. After all I don’t have to be at the hospital until 7:30. And that would have been fine except the Monk in me kicked in. If I have to be at the hospital at 7:30 and a shower and face fix and hair comb only take an hour, theoretically, I could go back to bed until 6AM. Fat chance!
There I was, having completed all the assigned tasks as assigned to myself for being presentable at the hospital. Well, except one. I think I am going to take a survey of how many people can successfully give them selves a fleet enema at 5 in the damned morning with the sun coming up and the birds twittering a song which I swear is “Na na na na noo noo.” Finally I decide, they’ve put up with a lot worse than someone showing up without giving themselves the prescribed torture prep.
There I am, bright and shiny, at 7:30 just waiting. And waiting quite calmly due to the effects of ATAVAN. When I say that I add a flourish so that is comes out A-A-TA-V-A-A-AN. This makes it sound to me like I am calling for butthole M-A-A-AN. you know kind of like Super Dog, Mighty Man, WONDER WOMA-A-A-N. Kinda like my own personal super pill.
When I say “Drugs are our Friends,” I mean it. I am too damned old to be trying to toughen up and take it like a, a what, an idiot. No thanks, pass that Atavan and keep it coming. It makes the fact the first x-ray machine was broken and after thrashing around for half an hour while the machine was manipulated needlessly because the DAMN THING WAS BROKE. It’s not one of those things you kick and go, “Yep, I think tha’s going to do it.”
Hey, here’s an idea, let’s take this cranky old lady who has been suffering by being confined to this rock hard surface and try and delicately move her onto a rolling torture vehicle to another room where the second machine will surely work. Glory be, it does. The drawback to this room is the unnatural twist to my head as I view the x-ray in progress. Now, I’m not a doctor, but I could immediately see the situation had not improved, and in fact had worsened. That was when SHIT, FU*K started bouncing off the walls in this small , metal enclosure. I only said it twice. I thought it another 145 times.
That parts over and it’s time to see my wonderful Doc who is going to tell me what I already know. Starting semi over. Removing some more of the large intestines, rehooking the two ends back up and waiting three months to see if it works this time. This all started a year and a week ago. It kind of reminds be of groundhog day…or the song: Here We Go Again…So around the middle August I will be layed out on a stainless steel table with masked avengers hovering around me looking forward to digging into an abdominal cavity that has seen better days.
And me, well, I’ll read, try not to get caught up in Candy Crush again, sneak as much chocolate into my diet as I can, followed by cheesecake and let out one of my little snorts which translate to, “So, what else is ne?”
The real bummer. My best friends are getting married on August 23 after living together in sin for over 25 years. I thank them for the effort and energy they have expended in their lives together to reach this point. Way to go…best wishes, mazel tov and don’t let the bastards get you down.
WHATEVER WAS I THINKING? 