Vickie and Albert

Jenny and I used to make dolls out of clothespins, but I've sold, lost or given away most of them. I don't know where Mama got these two big antique clothespins, but she gave them to me long ago. She had used her tiny drill to make holes through for their arms. All these many years, I've meant to ask my artist sister Ramey to paint their heads to resemble Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, and I've collected pictures of the royal couple so I could make their costumes. But I never think to tell Ramey. So I'm posting this as a self-reminder.

The taller pin is nearly 5 inches high, and I've thought about using it to make a new Daddy for the Dolls' house, so he would be almost as tall as Mama. But I hate to abandon the Prince Albert idea.

Queen Victoria was a pretty good-looking little woman until she had twelve children, Albert died, and she didn't care much any more.

***

Shakespeare's prettiest poem:

Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,

As: to behold desert a beggar born,

And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,

And purest faith unhappily foresworn;

And gilded honor shamefully misplac'd,

And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,

And right perfection wrongully disgrac'd,

And strength by limping sway disabled;

And art made tongue-tied by authority,

And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,

And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,

And captive good attending captain ill--

Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,

Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

This is the thing he wrote that, in my opinion, most strongly indicates Oxford as the author. It sharply describes his life, and the influence of Authority over his works.

The Dolls' Storage Shed

Besides the unsightly piles of household stuff in the attic, the Dolls have to keep some things handy in the storage shed, like garden and carpenter tools, the sewing machine and the ironing board. And the trash cans.

Daddy has acquired three new hunting dogs, Sooner, Echo and Belman, who currently sleep in the shed because Tiny the Airedale won't let them come into the house.

Daddy himself gained a lot of weight over the holidays. He also quit dyeing his hair black, and looks quite different. Will show new pictures of him later.

***

I looked out the window this morning, and it looked like someone had turned on the lights. Oh--it was the sun, which I hadn't seen in several days.

***
A poem so beautiful it makes me cry:

"Beloved, let us once more praise the rain.

Let us discover some new alphabet,

For this, the often praised, and be ourselves

The rain, the chickweed, and the burdock leaf,

The green-white privet flower, the spotted stone,

And all that welcomes rain; the sparrow, too,--

Who watches with a hard eye, from seclusion,

Beneath the elm-tree bough, till rain is done. ...

"...The wheel of cloud whirs slowly: while we wait
In the dark room; and in your heart I find
One silver raindrop, --on a hawthorn leaf,--
Orion in a cobweb, and the World."

by  Conrad Aiken

Hello, Goodbye

One cold rainy day last week, I went to the drugstore to pick up a prescription. When I got back and opened the garage so I could get in, a pretty black and white dog ran in ahead of my truck. He was wet and cold and shivering, and I sort of rubbed some of the rain off of him. Then I went upstairs and fixed him a plate of leftover beef stew and rice and things and took it down there.

He tucked his long bushy tail between his legs and looked sort of sheepish, but after a while he ate it all up. He had on a collar, and I turned it around and around, looking for a tag, but he didn't have one.

"You're a right nice dog," I said. "Matter of fact, you're the very kind of a dog I've been looking for, with your long wavy hair and your medium-sized build. How would you like to hang around here?"

"No'm," he said. "Much obliged for the dinner and the rubdown and all, but I reckon I'll get on back to the house when it quits raining."

"Well, it was mighty nice talking to you," I said, and he said likewise. So we shook hands, and after a while I let him out. When I looked out the window, he was long gone.

I really don't want a dog, but it had slipped my mind.

Crossroads

The movie "Crossroads" (1986) was shown on TV last night, and I watched it, of course. They don't make movies that good any more, and probably never will again-- Is that true, or is it just the old-timer's classic "good old days" versus "bad new days"? It's a subjective thing, of course.

Watching the movie on TV saved me the difficulty of opening my new DVD package and figuring out which remote to use to play the disc, all of which I've been putting off for a month or more. I've got several unwatched DVD's. Must remember to arrange another tutoring session with Jed, and label the relevant remote. I may not be tech-smart, but at least my kids are.

I think I'll copy Roger Ebert and start a Four-Star Movie column on this blog.

21-0, by gosh!

That's a little better than 9-6. What happened to the No. 1 LSU Tigers, y'all?!!! The Tide sort of casually rolled over them, that's what!  You won't find a whole heap about it in the news, not at all like what you would have found if Auburn had done anything near this. But then, it's Alabama's what? fourteenth National Championship, big deal. Nick Saban said he was happy, and almost smiled.

Book Club and Other Stuff

It's January, and as far as I know, no one has mentioned resuming book club. It's probably just as well.

During the twelve days of Christmas, I got old. It seems to be different for different people, the point at which one surrenders and admits to being old. For me, it was a day when I realized that I feel, not just tired, but superannuated. I think I need a new hairstyle. Or A hairstyle. What's a good style for thin, gray, straight, baby-fine, flyaway locks? If you can call them locks. Maybe like Mirren.

Would need a face-lift to go along with the style. And lots of makeup. All of which really boil down to lots of money.

I have to say that for me, December was the best month of 2011. Dec. 31st wasn't the best day of that year, but at least it was the last one. I wish everyone I know, and don't know, a Happy New Year, and I hope to goodness everyone wishes me the same. A year with no broken doors, broken teeth, broken resolutions, flooded basements, carcinomas, new stray cats, paucity of poetry prizes, lost things-- Last week I laid a newly opened deck of smokes and a lighter somewhere, and have been looking for them ever since. "Many are the travelers . . . "

I think this year I'll read Walden again. And The Once and Future King. Hank's poem about Lynn, in Then We Came To the End, was heartrending. That was really a good book, worthy of all the prizes it won.

Then We Came To the End

By Joshua Ferris

I started reading this book about an advertising agency where employees were being laid off left and right. Good writing, but execrable personae and lack of story. Several times I started to quit reading it. Man, I thought, I hate these people, and I'm not a person who hates people. I'm not a person who keeps on reading a bothersome book just because I don't have anything better to read.

And then, after so many pages of no positive reactions except to the most offensive characters, on page 108 I find myself rubbing my eyes and screaming with a sick sort of laughter, just because they finally revealed who stole Tom Mota's chair.

Come to think of it, Brizz's totem pole was pretty good, too. I guess I'll read a few more pages.

It has to be a pretty good day...

when I win Spider Solitaire. But I'm down to 1%.

It's still a mighty beautiful day. I'm going to walk around outside, bundled up if necessary.

My Best-Loved Christmas Carol

My favorite verse:

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray!
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,
And take us to Heaven to live with Thee there.

Seems like I nearly always get the Christmas spirit, about a week later.

Adventures in Atlanta, GA

Jed appeared Friday a week ago, in a big beautiful new vehicle that Santa brought him. We spent a delightful evening (Soup Night) as Sister Susan's on Friday, and then Saturday evening Sister Ramey hosted a wonderful feast of turkey and the trimmings at her house.

We didn't do much on Christmas day except open some presents and read some books. Then Monday we were off to Jed's house in Atlanta. I had been there once before--to his house, I mean. Since then I had been to Atlanta to an Oxford-Shakespeare convention. Mostly what I remember doing for the best part of four days was eating until I was stupefied. We ate steak at Longhorn on the way out of Leeds, and in Atlanta we ate Mexican and I don't know what-all. The staff at the Mexican restaurant hollered and took on over Jed, hugged us repeatedly, and fed us sumptuously--turns out that Jed hangs out there a lot and has charmed the proprietress.

Here are some pics of Jed's renovated kitchen.

Directly above, on the left, is a bit of the marble tile backsplash, and the beautiful granite countertop with undermounted sink. The photo on the right is the gorgeous travertine floor. Click on the photos to enlarge for detail.

For Christmas Jed gave me a new toaster-oven, and for my birthday (which was Tuesday) a lovely pair of furry leather scuffs so I'll quit running around the house in my socks.

It was a wonderful Christmas and birthday season, and I thank the Lord for all my loved ones and friends, both those who were here and those who were not. Jed and I got back to Leeds Thursday evening. I persuaded him to stay over that night and rest instead of driving back immediately. So he went home yesterday, and I have slept most of the time since then.

The Dolls' House



All decked out for Christmas



All the rooms.

The Front Door



Kitchen - Cook has brought her baby to work.







The Living Room - Where is everybody?

Daddy is calling up the stairs, telling Mama that Grandma has arrived--they're taking her out to dinner!




But Mama Doll is still in the bathtub! (Baby Doll is in his cradle,
minding his own business.)

Lucinda the upstairs maid is admiring the Christmas tree in the study.



Little Dolly has dressed up to go out with the grownups, but
big Camilla knows they won't be allowed. (The girls' room with
their books and dolls.)

***
The house is crowded, with ten people, four cats and two dogs.

***
Merry Christmas from the Family!

Left to Right
Front Row: Peter Alexander, age 6 mo.
Camilla, age 8
The rocking horse Peter got for Christmas (Daddy will buy him a bicycle next year.)
Dolly, age 4
Daddy (Alexis Hugh Doll)
Tiny, the terrier
Back Row: Beauty, the parlor maid
Lucinda, the upstairs maid
Spot, the spaniel
Grandma (Mrs. Dolly Buff-Orpington)
Keenya, the cook, and her little boy Beolius
Mama Doll (Miranda)
(The cats were hiding.)

A carrot for the donkey

Spent the morning trying to get inspired to stand up and move. Actually, moving is one of the few things I still like to do. While making coffee, I do stretching exercises, make sure I can still touch the floor without bending my knees, etc.

Samuel Johnson said (I paraphrase), "Of all the noises, music is perhaps the least offensive." I still like some music, sometimes.

Food? Ho hum. Unless I get hungry, I don't care much. Yesterday I did make an effort, cooked squash and cornbread, and made a bowlful of corn salad. And a Great Divide milkshake for dessert. Food is pretty good, if you're hungry. Trouble is, after a great meal, you have to go to the store to replace what you cooked and ate.

Shakespeare is still worth moving for. But it's pretty exhausting, after most of a lifetime spent trying to straighten out the matter.

Writing poems? It's not something you can just sit down and do. You have to have some emotion to remember in tranquillity (Wordsworth--Bill or Dorothy).

I think the only thing that would make me holler, and jump up and down, would be for River City to call and say, "Mrs. Cage, we would like to publish your book."

"Anonymous"

I recently read a comprehensive review of the movie "Anonymous," and now I want to see it. Apparently, it either alleges or hints at many of the things I believe to be true about the real Shakespeare, including the most important "fact."

A few nights ago, I watched "Neverland" on TV, and that Ifans guy played Hook. He looks like a good choice to play Oxford in "Anonymous."

So, my plan is to see the movie, then write a paper and add a string of references from my 50-odd years of studying Shakespeare. And then I want to see if the Leeds Arts Council will schedule me a program time to read my paper to an audience. That probably can't happen until next season, so maybe I should negotiate the time, before I start writing the paper.

This idea is part of an appeal by the Oxford Shakespeare Society, for members to "educate" the public on the identity  question, and to explain some points in the movie. I received their letter yesterday, and it commented favorably on the movie, and put the presentation idea into my head.

Another Recurring Song

This is another one that runs through my head sometimes (I like this one):

I'll Be There

There ain't no chains strong enough to hold me
Ain't no breeze big enough to slow me
I never have seen a river that's too wide
There ain't no jail tight enough to lock me
Ain't no man big enough to stop me
I'll be there if you ever want me by your side
So love me if you ever gonna love me
I never have seen a road too rough to ride
There ain't no chains strong enough to hold me
There ain't no breeze big enough to slow me
I'll be there if you ever want me by your side


Now there ain't no rope tight enough to bind me
Look for me honey you will find me
Any old time you're ready with your charm
I'll be there ready and a waitin'
There won't be any hesitatin'
I'll be right here if you ever want me in your arms
So love me if you ever gonna love me
I never have seen a road too rough to ride
There ain't no chains strong enough to hold me
There ain't no breeze big enough to slow me
I'll be there if you ever want me by your side
I'll be there if you ever want me by your side

The 18

I have a recurring dream of running to catch the No. 18 bus on the Southside. Sometimes it's from my apartment, sometimes at Five Points, occasionally at UAB. Always, when I'm just a few steps from it, the bus pulls away. It's as if the driver watches me and leaves when I'm almost there. That really used to happen sometimes.

I had the dream last night. The scene before and after I run to catch the bus is always different. This time, I was getting dressed to go to work, and Mama was there, and she told me I could wear her blazing hot-pink printed skirt. Then after the bus left me stranded, a convertible car full of six of my college acquaintances stopped at the curb, and I squeezed into the back seat and started talking to them. But close up, they weren't who I thought they were, but a bunch of unshaven, sort of thuggy-looking guys. When I explained and apologized for getting into their car, the one beside me said it was all right, they would drop me off at work.

Explain that one, Dr. Freud.

The Blahs

Lately I'm not in the mood for holidays. Or much of anything else. There's too much of this-and-that that I need to do hanging over my head, that I can't think of anything else. And I don't get anything done. It's not that I don't give-a-damn. I'd love to see all the repairs done and the house spotless, and the car washed and the oil changed, and the clothes washed, and the teeth cleaned and filled and the hair cut and the nails clipped--all that stuff that life is full of.

What I need is another cup of coffee, and I'll be right back in the game. I hope.

The Man With the Moxie

If half of the politicians in the U.S. were half as smart and half as concerned as this guy, I would be much less afraid for the future of our country.

Really Stupid Songs

Often, songs that I heard as a child will play in my head, or snatches of them. Thank technology for the internet, so I can find some of them and try to banish them forever. Here's one:

O dear, what can the matter be?
Dear, dear, what can the matter be?
O dear, what can the matter be?
Johnny's so long at the fair.

. . . He promised to bring me a bunch of blue ribbons
To tie up my bonny brown hair.

I just remembered 2-3 lines of this one, but that was three too many:

He sat down beside her and smoked his cigar
Smoked his cigar, smoked his cigar
He sat down beside her and smoked his cigar
Smoked his cigar-r-r


She sat there beside him and played her guitar,
Played her guitar, played her guitar
She sat there beside him and played her guitar,
Played her guitar-r-r

Each of the following lines is a repetitive stanza like the two above:

He told her he loved her but oh how he lied...
She told him she loved him, but she did not lie...
They went to be married, but she up and died,,,
He went to the funeral, but just for the ride...
She went up to heaven and flip-flop she flied...
He went down below her and sizzled and fried...
The moral of this tale is never to lie...
Or you, too, may perish and sizzle and fry...

I may write a poem called "Sizzle and Fry."

"When you don't see him, he's somewhere else."

Last night I watched "Michael," the movie. That has to be one of the best, or at least among my top favorites.

Why didn't anybody show the Alabama game yesterday? Since those overblown giants of LSU beat them by a hair, I guess the Tide is not considered worth broadcasting. That LSU win was shown at least a dozen times on TV in the past week. It really was a big accomplishment, to beat Bama.

I've been decorating the dollhouse. I can't help it, tedious though it is.

Coffee! For the love of heaven, coffee!!!

I saw Mo curled up in a spot of sunshine on the carpet. Made me want to do the same. There's a poem in that somewhere. I guess Mo is older than I am, in cat years. Still, it would seem inappropriate for me to curl up on the floor and go to sleep. I may do it, anyway.

Yesterday was a bit stressful, so I went to bed about 7:30 p.m. and slept until ten this morning. I'm still so sleepy I can't sit up straight.

Thing is, I had a dental procedure yesterday, and they said not to drink coffee or anything hot for "several days." How many days  can I survive, awake, without coffee? Makes me think of Ramey's espresso-colored tee shirt that says "Instant Person--Just Add Coffee."

Iced coffee?

*

Iced coffee with lots of creamer and a little bit of sugar is really good, I find. But it doesn't work the same as a big mug full of the hot stuff.
*
Back about 1949, I wrote a poem called "Kitten in the Sunshine." But I've lost it.

things are bad all over

When a new crisis arises, I have to give myself a day or two of craziness before my usual sense returns. This crisis is a dental one, so the rest of this year will probably be dominated by running back and forth to the dentist, needles, screaming and running mad. On top of the doors, the basement, and the wee little piddling retirement income.

It's enough to make you cry, or laugh. Or start feeling your age. I was ten years older than Joe Frazier, who died Monday. And I'm still running around in my raggedy jeans and tee shirts like a 60-year-old, moaning about my little crises. A hundred years from now, who'll know the difference?

Crossroads

Yesterday I discovered that I have a lot of purchase "points" on Amazon. So I ordered this video that I've wanted for a long time, free of charge and free shipping. Ralph Macchio and Joe Seneca. And Jamie Gertz. This is one of my 100 favorite films.

I've fallen behind in my clean-up schedule this week. But I haven't given up. Today I aim to FINISH THE DOLLHOUSE and get it out of the way. Or off my mind. All I have to do is install the stairs--they're all put together and painted--and touch up the paint here and there.



*



6:00 p.m. The D.H. is finished, so I can relax and watch the Tide beat LSU (knock on wood).

Night on Bald Mountain

In the middle of doing laundry, I was thinking that if I ever got thrown into solitary confinement, I could occupy myself by hearing music in my mind. Mozart string quartets, Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique," Beethoven piano sonatas, Chopin preludes and piano concertos. Then for some reason I thought about "Night on Bald Mountain," and I thought Berlioz, but it's not by Berlioz, it's Mussorgsky/Chernov/Rimsky-Korsakov. So I ran to the computer and found this arrangement on YouTube, all piano with the sheet music pictured, and spent ten minutes listening to the ghosties and devils and witches and stuff on the "Bare Mountain." Why didn't I think of it during Halloween? It would be perfect to play and scare the trick-or-treaters. If one had any trick-or-treaters.

Anyway, I posted it in my Music Links in the left column. It's really a pretty piece of music, with a lazy left hand and a real workout to try with the right hand, if one had a piano.

Welcome, November!

Boy'm I glad Halloween (the whole month of October) is over! Everything on TV was haints and horror, and old reruns of Project Runway.

Counting Reed Sunday night, I had six trick-or-treaters, three of them in one visit. So there's the great bowl still full of every kind of Tootsie Roll candy ever made. I kept urging the little ghosties to "take some more--don't you want another Tootsie Roll pop?" But they were all too polite to be greedy.

The weekend was sort of fun and sort of disappointing. On Saturday, Jed and I went to Montevallo U. to the ASPS Fall Awards luncheon. I signed up to sponsor a spring contest, to the tune of eighty bucks. As to awards, I won an honorable mention (aargh!) and a second prize, out of all those good poems I entered. At least I thought they were good; the most disappointing thing was my wondering if they weren't so good, after all. But, compared to the winning poems that were read aloud, I believe they're pretty great.

Like a fool, I left my keys at home and all the doors locked. So Jed had to break the foyer door to the stairs. So now I've got to go to Lowe's and buy a door and get them to install it.

So, this morning I paid bills, and finished all the painting for the doll house, and started washing the heaps of dirty laundry. Yesterday, besides the 2-pound bag of treats, I bought allergy masks, gloves, and other supplies for cleaning the back room of the basement, which I plan to finish up this week.

Shirley S., my first landlord at the Southside apartment, once said that she liked for everything to be fun. I managed to make the nose surgery sound like fun while it was going on, so maybe I can get a laugh or two out of cleaning the basement. Speaking of the nose surgery, today I received a bill for $300 due after Viva and Medicare paid their parts. It's always something.