Top Ten Books of All Time

1. The Talisman by Stephen King: the best book I ever read.

2. If Tomorrow Comes by Sidney Sheldon: fast-paced, beautiful heroine; danger, danger, danger!

3. The Deadly Sin novels by Lawrence Sanders: Edward X. Delaney is quite possibly the most important human being I have never met. And, I am kind of in love with him.

4. O is for Outlaw by Sue Grafton: this series is fabulous, and this is my very favorite one. The main character is quirky and in love with her 80-something year-old landlord. What are you waiting for?

5. The Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King: magicians and dragons and kings, oh my!

6. North to Freedom by Anne Holm: it was made into a movie a few years ago. It’s about a boy who escapes a concentration camp and it is beautiful.

7. The Pelican Brief by John Grisham: this book made me want to move to New Orleans, cut off all my hair, dye it, and run for my life. I read it a few times a year. I want to be Darby Shaw.

8. Boy by Roald Dahl: yes, the same guy who wrote Charlie and the Chocolate Factory wrote this, his autobiography. It’s about his boyhood in Wales and England, and it is indescribable. Going Solo is the second part of this, and it’s about his days as a WWII RAF pilot and his subsequent job in Africa with the Shell company. Stop what you are doing and read these books! You’ll thank me later.

9. Natural Health, Natural Medicine by Dr. Andrew Weil: this book tells you how to get and stay healthy, and has a list at the end of natural cures for common ailments. He is a genius.

10. The Bad Girls’ Guide to the Open Road by Cameron Tuttle: I found this book when my sister Martha and I went to Charlottesville, Virginia a few years ago. I stood in the store reading it and laughing so hard that I nearly pissed my pants. If you are going on a road trip (or not), I promise you will love this book.

Ah, Springtime

Springtime is sweet. The daffodils, bluebells and hyacinths are blooming in my yard, and I brought my bike up from the basement this evening. The newspaper that was thrown onto my front porch roof in September was blown onto the sidewalk by the March winds, and the winds have also brought the bits of trash that are so common in the city into my yard so that I am able to do my part and clean them up as I see them. All of my neighbors were out in force; the neighbor two doors down had a cookout this afternoon and the noise from it woke me up from a much-needed nap. It was still too cold to sit outside, but the sun warmed the house so that I was constantly adjusting the thermostat today. My winter coats are still being used. It is March, feels like it has been for years, and we have another day of it. Did I call Springtime sweet? What I meant to say was Summer is awesome.

It’s Been a Long Time, Baby…

One of my best friends in high school was a girl named Lydia. Lydia was pretty, smart and funny. She grew up in an orphanage and started at my high school in 11th grade. The fall after we graduated from high school, we took a train to Philadelphia for a weekend to visit our friend Diana who was going to Temple University, and to see Joan Baez in concert. We had a great time, although all I remember from the trip itself is the night we went to a bar and a guy wrote on Lydia’s foot with his pen; the fact that we had to go out in groups of at least 3 people (crime, you know); and the concert. Oh, and the train ride home. Ahh, that train ride…

It all started at 6 a.m. on Monday when Lydia’s cousin drove us to the train station. Lydia assured me that she knew her way around the train station, so we ate breakfast at McDonald’s and took our coffee and went to find our train. Time was passing quickly, and we finally found a man who told us that the train to Lancaster was leaving, RIGHT NOW, so run and they might help you on. So run we did, bags bumping and coffee spilling, and a very kind conductor yanked us on as the train was moving. Whew! We sat down, laughing and patting ourselves on the back. We were the coolest- who would ever believe we jumped onto a moving train?

The kindly conductor came through asking for tickets, and that’s when we found out we weren’t heading for Lancaster. Oh, no, Miss Lydia, Queen of the Amtrak station didn’t have a clue- we were on the train to New York City with stops in Trenton and Jersey City on the way. So, we explained to that same conductor that we jumped onto the wrong train, and he left to talk to the engineer to find out what we should do. When he came back, he told us they had to drop us off in North Philadelphia, and assured us that he had daughters, he wouldn’t do this if there was no other choice. Then followed a laundry list of instructions: don’t look anyone in the eye, stay below the platform, hide your purses, get on the train IMMEDIATELY when it pulls into the station, and for God’s sake, DO NOT leave that station. Oh, man, what did we get ourselves into here?

So the train dropped us in North Philly. We went below the platform, hiding our purses and thankfully not seeing anyone other than the woman behind the ticket counter which happened to have no glass, only graffiti-covered plywood where the glass used to be. We asked for a phone (of course this was in 1989, pre-cell phone) and the woman told us that there was one a half a block away, but she certainly wouldn’t recommend us leaving the station. I am guessing it was a bad neighborhood.

We stood on the stairs leading up to the platform to wait for our train, and when a gang of men in red leather and red do-rags walked by below us we clutched each other and wished we could have called home in case they never found our bodies. Eventually the train came, we got on and unfortunately found ourselves in a smoking car, but we got back to Lancaster safe and sound.  We had it all planned out that we would get Lydia to her 8 o’clock class in Grantham, and I would be back in Millersville for a 9 o’clock, but that didn’t happen.

Over the years we lost touch as I have with so many friends from school. I see Lyd occasionally at Central Market on Saturday mornings. We exchanged phone numbers, and one of these days I am going to actually call her.

Cruise Ships

Several years ago I did a four-month stint working on cruise ships. I traveled the world with a crew of three other people, one of whom I will call Robert. I did not like Robert at first; who knows why? Every other day he shaved his head and was late to our daily breakfast meeting. His ears were clogged one morning after a flight the night before, and when I told him they would clear up he told me that “my ears are my life.” I think my feelings for him changed when we were working on a ship and a hurricane was causing our ship to rock. We were doing inventory and were both so sick that we just laid on the floor and wished we were dead. Later we were in Old San Juan and we saw a movie being filmed. We asked the director if he needed extras. The director said yes, and we ran up and down a street several times, screaming and pretending that we were being shot at by men on a roof. The movie people treated us like stars, and we left there and spent time in a coffee shop talking and laughing. The last time I saw Robert, he told me that his feet were ruined from all of the walking on the cruise ships. How could I not like someone who claims his feet hurt from walking, several years after the walking occurred? Ahh, I wonder where he is right now. Hopefully he is sitting down with his feet up, letting his hair grow out.

My Favorite Christmas Gift

For Christmas I received a long-handled, flexible-neck shoe horn. I love it! Now, instead of rushing around in the morning getting ready for work and having to drop everything on the floor in order to use my old standard shoe horn, I can have my arms full of junk and simply use my new long-handled shoe horn. I barely have to bend over! If you were lucky enough to get a long-handled shoe horn for Christmas, congratulations! If not, you can easily buy one on the internet. I encourage you to do it today!

Christmas and the Economy, and Other Lies from the Media

I always think it’s interesting when the media reports a “good” or “bad” economy based on Americans’ spending over the holidays. The next story always seems to be the amount of credit card debt that Americans carry. Television news is full of conflicting information. A story about the dangers of grilling and frying foods is followed by a cooking segment where the food is grilled or fried, and the tv personalities ooh and aah over how good it is. Why wouldn’t they do a cooking segment on baking or poaching the food? On the “news,” stories abound about people losing weight, makeovers, and other unimportant topics. Our country is at war, our countrymen and women are losing their lives and limbs, and our media seems to ignore those issues. Why not do stories (on a regular basis) concerning Americans involved in the war? Why not find veterans who are in need of help and give them “makeovers” in terms of help with their finances, updating homes of handicapped vets, or giving soldiers and their families access to good emotional therapy? Why not give updates with as much information as possible on the war itself, and what we are doing there? Are we failing or succeeding? Maybe the media doesn’t know. Does anyone?

Cat Goes Bye-bye

I have a cat. His name is Gunther. He is big and fat, and he sniffs my face and attacks my feet when I am trying to sleep. He sleeps against my back so that I am usually nice and warm when I wake up, except in summer when I wake up hot and sweaty. He is like a furnace. I don’t want a cat, so my sister is taking him. Today. Will I miss him? Maybe a little bit at first. I am rarely home and I keep the house frigid when I am not here and he is a people cat and needs more love than I am able to give him. It will be nice to know he has people who will fuss over him, because I never did.

My Neighbor’s House is Sinking

I live in a semi-detached house, and the house connected to mine is sinking into the ground. I am worried that I will wake up one morning and be surrounded by dirt. Am I still alive? I will think to myself. I think our houses were built on clay. Rain is our enemy. If I were a sculptor I would push our houses into the ground and sculpt some new houses. I am not, though, so I will call city inspectors and hope they don’t condemn our houses.  

What I Want for Christmas

an herb garden; a garage; a good news program on TV;
a lakehouse; guitar or violin lessons;
Christmas in Aruba; a coffee date with Lyle Lovett;
a housekeeper; a massage twice a week;
cowgirl boots

I Graduated from College after 9 Years

I have a house. I have a best friend named Dena. I have three sisters and a brother and two parents and three nephews and one niece. I have a good, (mainly) fun job. I have a green sofa and pink dining room set. I like hot tea (Earl Gray, peppermint and chamomile are my favorites) and hot coffee. I can’t drink more than two glasses of wine before I get buzzed. I have a cat named Gunther and an old secretary desk. My middle name is Anne, because my mom, after her first date with my dad, went to Canada with some of her friends and they stopped at a shrine for St. Anne (I have no idea which one). She prayed to St. Anne that if Anne helped her marry my dad, my mom would name all of her children after her. She married my dad, and my sisters and I all have the middle name Anne, and my brother’s is Andrew. Her napkin flipped over when she told us the story over dinner one night. I believe in angels, ghosts, and dragons.