The Bigger Picture

I got another hint today on how to get people to read your blog--keep it short--people don't want to invest more than 10-15 seconds reading anything on someone else's blog. Bottom line--I've decided to stop caring about whether or not anyone reads what I have to write. I've gone on other blogs and read their stories, often longer than mine and left comments, but no, I guess we can't expect much from people outside of our own sphere to care about anything other than the "sex, lies and sales" from a previous post. I can leave it for what it is, and move on. This blog is for me, a place to record my thoughts, stories, etc. I honestly no longer care whether anyone reads it, because it is a place for me to tell my tale.

So, here is another part to the Hopi story.

So, we move into this "rock house" on the Hopi Reservation (this is back in the late 70's, early 80's. I work at the Hopi Tribe Health Department, and my ex--goes to back to school so he can start working with the education department. My daughter goes to Second Mesa Day School--one of the only bahana's (non-Indian) at the school, and my son goes to the Headstart. We get involves with cultural activities and try to be as culturally sensitive as possible.

Amazing things happen, and as I mentioned earlier, I wouldn't trade that time for anything, although my daughter would beg to differ with me. Many things that happened to her I never found out until she was much older.


We had one of the only phones on the mesa, so we were often the stopping off place for people who needed to get in touch with somebody. One time, the family came to use the phone because their family member had gotten drunk in Winslow, fallen asleep on the train track, and had their legs cut off by a train. One time, one of the fathers of a traditional family stopped by, talked for about 10 minutes before he told me that our horse had gotten out of the corral and was running down the highway.

There were times when the dancers came to the sacred spring and we had to stay inside and not bother them. There were times when we attended the dances and were expected to visit the homes of our co-workers and "eat". Over all, I felt I had found something that touched a place deep inside of me. I never had a culture that I really felt a part of. I grew up as a military brat, moving around from town to town. Then, married another military brat who felt that if you weren't happy one place-move until you found a place you were happy. (Don't think he ever found it--but he's the ex-so it doesn't matter.) Living on a Reservation with a very culturally intact tribe makes you realize how much that can mean, and also make you realize how hard it is for those who leave that culture behind to become part of the mainstream.

I read a blog that talked about the danger of nostalgia--I'm not nostalgic, just wish that there were more places in the world to feel connected to something larger than oneself--to belong and feel a part of the bigger picture.

Summer Time Blues

It's almost the end of July, and I still have three weeks before I get to take some vacation time. I guess it is the price you pay for trying to be organized, frugal, and deal with multiple scheduling issues. And, no matter how you try to schedule, someone is always throwing a wrench into the works. I started planning my vacation in February, because that is when the tickets to Alaska go on sale--(can't imagine why no one would want to go to Alaska in February). For some reason you can get a great deal on a flight to Anchorage in February, and then you wait-and wait-and wait until that day finally comes. Plus, in Alaska, things book up quickly, so you also have to reserve your rental car, your motel/hotel/cabins early in the year because otherwise you will be up the creek with no room at the inn. And, many of the places require a 50% deposit, so you also obligate your funds long before the vacation ever comes. So, we have our flights, our reservations in Homer, Seward, and Denali, and the B&B in Anchorage for our last night, we have our car, my husband has his halibut trip all reserved. But here is the hitch. We get into Anchorage late in the evening, and have a 40 minute connect time in Chicago. We are also traveling with my Mom (my Dad died last November) who gets around really well for 78, but can't run to the next terminal. So, I called Travelocity to see if there was an earlier flight out of Hotlanta that we could take--I would rather have plenty of time to make a connecting flight, but no, as long as the connection time was more than 30 minutes--no deal---yes, they say they will make your flight "right"--I'm not so sure. If we miss our connecting flight to Anchorage, the next flight would take us to LA with an overnight, and get us into Anchorage the next afternoon.--give me a break, I don't get enough vacation time as it is--I don't want to miss a minute of it on stupid connecting flights because Travelocity can't see that there could be a problem. Also, it means I can't reserve a hotel for the first night because of the cancellation policies--if we don't make it, I still get charged. Well, I'm cheap enough that I don't like paying for something I don't use. So, I have to hope for the best--prepare for the worst, and try to convince Travelocity that making it right means giving us more than 40 minutes, given that Atlanta is notorius for backups.

My frustration for the day

Still Hot in Hotlanta

What the Hell in "Hell's Kitchen"

"Hell's Kitchen" has certainly been fiery this year. Seems like there is a fire on every episode these days. I can't believe I watch the show, but I guess I am just amazed at what the people say about each other, and how much Heineken they can drink (skunky beer if you ask me-don't they have any other choices?) And, how much abuse are people willing to take knowing that only one of them will get to be a chef at the new restaurant--can you imagine going through weeks of being called a "f... b...." and then not win? That is the part that always amazes me. Most of these folks know that they don't have a chance in hell of winning, but they put up with the crap for weeks, like on Survivor or Big Brother. We pretty much knew that the prison cook wasn't going to win. We pretty much knew that the guy who kept sweating into the food wasn't going to win. I am not sure who is going to make it to the end, but if the big guy with the pants that won't stay up makes it, I sure wouldn't want to eat there--can they not get him a belt? And "Sara"--give me a break, somebody needs to give her a clue-she hasn't cooked meat in years and then suggest lamb chops? How ridiculous is she? And Heather--can you get some original lines--the claw stuff, has gotten really tiring. Please anyone who reads this (of course no one does), but please if you go on a reality tv show, show some originality, show some pride--if you are a chef--what the hell are you doing smoking? I certainly wouldn't want a chef preparing my food that had just been out smoking. And, even if they are your competitors, treat people with some courtesy. You can be a leader and still be a human. You can compete without trying to sabotage others. If you are talented enough to be a chef with a large restaurant, you don't do it by sabotage, you do it by talent.

Yes, I know that doesn't make for interesting TV, or does it? Could people like Dilana on Rock Star SuperNova show a new way of getting ahead--being honest, helpful, and human? Are we so screwed up in our TV world that all we find entertaining is people trashing each other? I think the networks would be surprised if they tried something different. I personally am tired of the sitcoms where the teens are supposedly so "smart", and the adults are so "stupid". Give me a break, I've raised four teens--they are not as smart as they think they are. Maybe that's why I have resorted to watching reality tv. At least sometimes the young folks get taught a lesson or too.

So, tonight is Rockstar--we'll see if Dilana continues to be my new role model.
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The Eye of the Beholder

Getting Movie recommendations from others is aways slightly risky at best. Unless the person watches movies the way you do, or experiences life the way you do, you are never sure what you are going to get, like Forrest Gump's "box of chocolates". I have realized that I watch movies very differently than many of my family members. When I read a book, watch a movie, or even a show, I become part of the story, I'm there with the family through the trials and tribulations. My ex-husband(see previous posts) watched movies very differently than I do. He was a spectator, watching for the sheer voyarism of watching someone else do something. I will never forget when my youngest son was coming down with chickenpox (from his kindergarten teacher). He was running a high fever, and my ex and I were watching "Dances with Wolves". It was too emotional, and I totally identified with the female main character. That, on top of a sick child, I just couldn't watch the show. He was mad because I wasn't paying attention to the movie. I couldn't, it hurt too much.

My present husband is much better at understanding my plight (and why I always ask for a comedy if anyone is picking up a movie at the video store). He has even been known to get a little teary at times, and has been a great sport about watching the "chick flicks" and not making me watch too many historic battle-field movies. As I always tell him, all of the soldiers are someone's son--the mother in me gets too empathetic.

So, it was interesting to see what my daughter would pick out for me yesterday when she went to the video store. She got "The Family Stone". (If you haven't seen it yet, stop reading here, because I will talk about the ending).

She thought it was funny and entertaining. And it was, until it comes out that the Mom is dying of breast cancer. She has all of her children and their accompanying players at her home for Christmas. Her children are about as diverse and full of angst as mine, and I identified with her and her wish that her children find happiness. So, when the next Christmas comes, and they all come back together, many of their foes vanquished, she is not there to be with them. I couldn't help but cry to the point of red eyes and a stuffy nose.

I told my daughter the next morning how sad I thought the movie was. She didn't see it that way. She saw that the family came together, resolved their differences, and were happy--therefore a happy ending. I was still hung up on "The Mom Died!"-what more could I see.

So, hence the title. We are all on very different wavelenghts, different places in our lives, trying to keep it all sane. I have figured out for me, in general, I like keeping it simple, happy, and funny even in my movie watching--it can have a little moment, where maybe a single tear gets swept away surriptitiously, but no cloudburst movies for me. Guess I need to pick out my own movies next time.

Still Hot in Atlanta

Nancy