The number of coronavirus cases are increasing in Houston. I still receive emails from Bellaire and, today, the Mayor's office announced that public services will be limited. The Mayor of Houston has decided to publicly identify businesses that fail to observe the directions of Greg Abbott, the Governor of Texas.
I read an article about who had been getting sick in Houston and it is just so random, like one woman who had been socially distancing, but suspects she got ill at a family dinner. Several of the adults and children who attended became ill. The good thing is that Houston has the largest medical center in the world, so it can accommodate many people, but the metro area is nearly six million people and many of these people are not very obedient, so one can expect the medical resources to get very taxed.
I worry about my friends. Most of them are still self-isolating, so they should be OK; but some of them are really old and I wonder if I will see my nonagenarian friends alive. But the younger ones also worry me: I just saw a Facebook post of one who threw a birthday party for her son who turned 23 years old, inviting some of his friends. It's hard not to think if everyone will be OK.
We are at our most vulnerable now. Too many people are becoming defiant.
terça-feira, 30 de junho de 2020
segunda-feira, 29 de junho de 2020
Version 2.056
I went grocery shopping today. It had been a few weeks since I last went to
Kroger and one can tell that the overall demeanor of the people has changed yet
again. There are more people wearing masks and there is a palpable heaviness, as
if our spirit is slowly being broken. It is quite the opposite with myself: I
tend to be more optimistic and upbeat when everyone else is down.
This morning, I spent some time reading my diary, in particular some entries from 2016 and 2017. In between my need to rationalize everything and to carve out potential outcomes, I see some traces of depression. In particular, I had written about my keepers, the females in my head that act as my warning system when things are not well. They have not visited me in a long time.
One of them swims in a river and sometimes the river is calm, others turbulent. When I sense danger is when I imagine that she is drowning; she is always keeping an eye on the shore. Another one stands on a cliff and looks out toward the ocean. She represents my need for stability and equilibrium. Desperation comes to me as a broken down woman who screams and rolls herself on the floor, as if she is trying to escape her body. There is also a happy child, who is about 5 years old and when I see her, I feel the need to keep her safe. I suppose that all of this is the way that I have found to watch myself and make sure that my emotions are in check and do not threaten me. It is all part of my need to control everything.
Reading my journal I realized how good I am at sensing change and threats to the status quo. It is not exactly something that endears you to others, as one is perceived as overly pessimistic, but change is the only constant. You can fight it, but the energy you spend is wasted because you cannot avoid it. It is better to learn to adjust and try to eliminate the worst possible outcomes.
domingo, 28 de junho de 2020
Version 2.055
I finished my taxes today. I am super-happy to finally get it done, although every year I promise myself that I will not procrastinate next time. Yet, I always do. I did a few simulations and it seems like I should receive quite a nice refund from federal, about $5000, which would be a really nice vacation, were it not for the fact that we should just stay put for a while.
Other than that, not much is going on. I still have some peaches from Georgia that I need to cook. I think I will try to make a gluten-free cobbler, but I need to go and buy some eggs. Maybe it would be a good idea to also get some ice-cream to go with the peaches.
Other than that, not much is going on. I still have some peaches from Georgia that I need to cook. I think I will try to make a gluten-free cobbler, but I need to go and buy some eggs. Maybe it would be a good idea to also get some ice-cream to go with the peaches.
sábado, 27 de junho de 2020
Version 2.054
I had my second counseling session today, so I took the afternoon off, since I did not know how I would feel emotionally. My homework is to go over cognitive biases and see how my thought processes might relate to those. We all have cognitive biases, but, in my line of work, I have to spend 40 hours a week doubting myself to make sure that I have done my job to the best of my ability. Some people's jobs entail building; my job is about building and destroying, until I cannot think of any other way of continuing the cycle within the allotted time frame. And perhaps because I spend a third of my life living it in such a duality, I like to keep the other third that I am awake easy, which is not how most other people operate.
After my session, I went over to my neighbor's to show her a pair of shoes that I had just bought, since I could not decide whether I wanted to keep them or not. I thought the size and the scale of the shoes were good and they were also not uncomfortable, but one wonders what is the point of buying shoes with a pandemic going on? One wears shoes, regardless of the viruses that live around us. So I am keeping the shoes.
My neighbor's mom agreed that I should keep them. We then lingered in her bedroom while she rested in bed. She struggled with getting comfortable and her facial features contorted in pain, but she did not want to eat and she drank very little fluids. It seems clear that she was in pain because she was literally starving herself. Three times she asked me how she ended up like that -- she thinks she is in a hospital or a nursing home. She does not remember that she is home.
The last time I was in St. Louis I almost died of food poisoning. I had gone to a conference for work and during the drive over there I started to not feel well. I managed to go to dinner with Henry, my coworker, but at some point I began to deteriorate and told him that I did not feel good. He drove me back to the hotel and I got into the elevator and proceeded to throw up on the trip up to my room. Then I had to come back downstairs and tell the front desk what I had done, which made me feel terribly guilty, despite the kindness of the staff. I returned to my room and went to bed. For two days, I threw up and slept and I could not even hold down water.
At some point, I looked out the window and saw the Arch of St. Louis. What a great view, I thought, and I may not make it out of here alive. In hindsight, I should have gone to the hospital, but thinking about it was too difficult, so I just stayed there. Things started to improve when I decided to add packets of sugar to the water. If the water was sweet, I could drink it and not throw up. Funny enough, the street where I lived back then was called that: Sweetwater Way.
After drinking sweet water, I graduated to eating fruit and that is often the food that gives me comfort when I am not feeling like eating. I asked my neighbor's mom if she wanted a fruit smoothie, but she declined. Then my neighbor thought of making a protein shake and her mom actually took a few sips. Her demeanor improved so much that I told her we needed to get her to eat some fried butter, like they do at the Texas State Fair. She looked at me as if I had fallen from the moon and then smiled when she realized I was joking. That was the highlight of my day. It wasn't exactly a joke; I was actually thinking about alternative ways in which to maximize her calorie intake. When I left I told my neighbor that tomorrow's breakfast should be that protein milkshake. We shall see how the day goes...
After my session, I went over to my neighbor's to show her a pair of shoes that I had just bought, since I could not decide whether I wanted to keep them or not. I thought the size and the scale of the shoes were good and they were also not uncomfortable, but one wonders what is the point of buying shoes with a pandemic going on? One wears shoes, regardless of the viruses that live around us. So I am keeping the shoes.
My neighbor's mom agreed that I should keep them. We then lingered in her bedroom while she rested in bed. She struggled with getting comfortable and her facial features contorted in pain, but she did not want to eat and she drank very little fluids. It seems clear that she was in pain because she was literally starving herself. Three times she asked me how she ended up like that -- she thinks she is in a hospital or a nursing home. She does not remember that she is home.
The last time I was in St. Louis I almost died of food poisoning. I had gone to a conference for work and during the drive over there I started to not feel well. I managed to go to dinner with Henry, my coworker, but at some point I began to deteriorate and told him that I did not feel good. He drove me back to the hotel and I got into the elevator and proceeded to throw up on the trip up to my room. Then I had to come back downstairs and tell the front desk what I had done, which made me feel terribly guilty, despite the kindness of the staff. I returned to my room and went to bed. For two days, I threw up and slept and I could not even hold down water.
At some point, I looked out the window and saw the Arch of St. Louis. What a great view, I thought, and I may not make it out of here alive. In hindsight, I should have gone to the hospital, but thinking about it was too difficult, so I just stayed there. Things started to improve when I decided to add packets of sugar to the water. If the water was sweet, I could drink it and not throw up. Funny enough, the street where I lived back then was called that: Sweetwater Way.
After drinking sweet water, I graduated to eating fruit and that is often the food that gives me comfort when I am not feeling like eating. I asked my neighbor's mom if she wanted a fruit smoothie, but she declined. Then my neighbor thought of making a protein shake and her mom actually took a few sips. Her demeanor improved so much that I told her we needed to get her to eat some fried butter, like they do at the Texas State Fair. She looked at me as if I had fallen from the moon and then smiled when she realized I was joking. That was the highlight of my day. It wasn't exactly a joke; I was actually thinking about alternative ways in which to maximize her calorie intake. When I left I told my neighbor that tomorrow's breakfast should be that protein milkshake. We shall see how the day goes...
sexta-feira, 26 de junho de 2020
Version 2.053
Early on in the pandemic, just because I am a sucker for bad news, I looked at the data for the 1918 pandemic just to check the death toll and how it unfolded over time. The second wave was the deadliest. I wondered how people died more the second time around, but back then information was not as ubiquitous and science was pretty behind. I suppose I was trying to convince myself that this times people would be more careful, things would not get out of hand.
Yesterday, I was talking to a coworker who told me that he felt the virus was getting closer. His best friend and respective wife have it. They are probably in their early 40s and have two children, the oldest one 15. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. I could order food for them, for example, but he replied that they did not want help.
My massage for tomorrow got cancelled. One of the previous clients got sick a few days after his massage, so he got tested, but the results are not out yet. It does feel like it's closing in on us.
Yesterday, I was talking to a coworker who told me that he felt the virus was getting closer. His best friend and respective wife have it. They are probably in their early 40s and have two children, the oldest one 15. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. I could order food for them, for example, but he replied that they did not want help.
My massage for tomorrow got cancelled. One of the previous clients got sick a few days after his massage, so he got tested, but the results are not out yet. It does feel like it's closing in on us.
quinta-feira, 25 de junho de 2020
Version 2.052
Yesterday, I went to the dentist. At the door, there was a sign asking us to call in to get instructions before entering. Janet, the receptionist, asked so many questions that I distinctly felt that I lived in the Inquisition: did I travel in the last 14 days, did I have any symptoms, had I been next to anyone who is positive for the virus, and on and on... Upon entering, I had to sign a waiver in case I became infected in their office.
I don't know, but at this point it almost feels like we are living in the Old Testament. It's not just the pandemic, it's the sand storm coming all the way from the Sahara desert, the locusts plagues in India and Pakistan, etc. It all seems so contrived to be real. At least, I did not have a cavity, just a stain in my tooth, probably from one of my retainers, which has a metal piece that touches that particular tooth. I could't believe it. Surely there had to be something wrong. The whole world is falling into pieces, so why would I not have a cavity.
Work has been extremely busy. Every time I feel like I have carved some room to breath, a new challenge comes up. I relish challenges, but it also wears me out. I cannot even comprehend how people survived before society opted for a 40-hour work week. Yes, I understand that work used to be less brainy and more physical, but even still, the thought of doing repetitive manual labor is enough to send me into a depression spin. Or maybe it's not as bad as I imagine.
I was so beat up after work today that I texted my neighbor to tell her I was ready for a break and she kindly invited me to go over to her place. She offered me a glass of wine and fed me dinner. We chatted for a bit, while her husband watched Jimmy Buffet on TV. Then she broke down, crying. Here is this lovely woman, who is always laughing and trying to be cheery all the time, sobbing. Her mother has just turned 86 and has dementia and last night called 911 to ask to be rescued. The call got transferred to the fire department who almost came, were it not for the fact that my neighbor got up just in time to let them know that her mother was OK, she has dementia.
Her mother is not OK. Every day, she becomes frailer. It's not just that her mind is not working, she also does not want to eat. It's like her body is trying to die, but the organs do not fail, so it stopped wanting food or even water. When I visit, I try to cheer her up. I ask her if she's on a diet for bikini season or if she'd rather have a glass of wine instead of water. She just giggles and sometimes complains because she shakes so much due to Parkinson's, so I tell her that's really good. If she starts rattling and rolling, she'll be all set, like the song goes.
I tell my neighbor that she needs to make peace with the situation. We are at a point where we cannot make improvements; all we do is manage the end and try to provide some comfort. But every day is like the last: we get up, we eat, we drink, we stay alive. Why would any one day be the last literally? What makes the day we die so special that it has to happen?
For me, it is easy to see the end approaching because I am on the outside, but if I were in her shoes, I'd be wracking my brain just like she is trying to figure out what else could be done. Yes, it is futile, but every single day that we live is futile; there is nothing special about any one of us being alive at any particular time. What makes it special is our own belief.
This morning, I was standing in front of the window when a hummingbird flew by. I had not seen one this year yet. I don't recall the last time I felt this guilty all because it had been months since I had changed the hummingbird nectar in the feeders. So many days I thought about doing it and I procrastinated until today. I thought that hummingbird was special.
I don't know, but at this point it almost feels like we are living in the Old Testament. It's not just the pandemic, it's the sand storm coming all the way from the Sahara desert, the locusts plagues in India and Pakistan, etc. It all seems so contrived to be real. At least, I did not have a cavity, just a stain in my tooth, probably from one of my retainers, which has a metal piece that touches that particular tooth. I could't believe it. Surely there had to be something wrong. The whole world is falling into pieces, so why would I not have a cavity.
Work has been extremely busy. Every time I feel like I have carved some room to breath, a new challenge comes up. I relish challenges, but it also wears me out. I cannot even comprehend how people survived before society opted for a 40-hour work week. Yes, I understand that work used to be less brainy and more physical, but even still, the thought of doing repetitive manual labor is enough to send me into a depression spin. Or maybe it's not as bad as I imagine.
I was so beat up after work today that I texted my neighbor to tell her I was ready for a break and she kindly invited me to go over to her place. She offered me a glass of wine and fed me dinner. We chatted for a bit, while her husband watched Jimmy Buffet on TV. Then she broke down, crying. Here is this lovely woman, who is always laughing and trying to be cheery all the time, sobbing. Her mother has just turned 86 and has dementia and last night called 911 to ask to be rescued. The call got transferred to the fire department who almost came, were it not for the fact that my neighbor got up just in time to let them know that her mother was OK, she has dementia.
Her mother is not OK. Every day, she becomes frailer. It's not just that her mind is not working, she also does not want to eat. It's like her body is trying to die, but the organs do not fail, so it stopped wanting food or even water. When I visit, I try to cheer her up. I ask her if she's on a diet for bikini season or if she'd rather have a glass of wine instead of water. She just giggles and sometimes complains because she shakes so much due to Parkinson's, so I tell her that's really good. If she starts rattling and rolling, she'll be all set, like the song goes.
I tell my neighbor that she needs to make peace with the situation. We are at a point where we cannot make improvements; all we do is manage the end and try to provide some comfort. But every day is like the last: we get up, we eat, we drink, we stay alive. Why would any one day be the last literally? What makes the day we die so special that it has to happen?
For me, it is easy to see the end approaching because I am on the outside, but if I were in her shoes, I'd be wracking my brain just like she is trying to figure out what else could be done. Yes, it is futile, but every single day that we live is futile; there is nothing special about any one of us being alive at any particular time. What makes it special is our own belief.
This morning, I was standing in front of the window when a hummingbird flew by. I had not seen one this year yet. I don't recall the last time I felt this guilty all because it had been months since I had changed the hummingbird nectar in the feeders. So many days I thought about doing it and I procrastinated until today. I thought that hummingbird was special.
quarta-feira, 24 de junho de 2020
Version 2.051
When my ex-husband was getting an undergrad in business, one day he got home all excited because his accounting professor had gone over some techniques on how to spot data manipulation. That was the first accounting class he'd ever taken and someone thought it worthy to add that to the curriculum. I, on the other hand, had taken numerous accounting classes in Portugal, both in high school and college, and did not recall ever talking about data manipulation. The shadiest topic we ever covered was "confidential expenses" and the so-called blue bag.
The first thing one does when analyzing data is evaluating how reliable the data are. How was it collected, what biases might it have, what limitations does it have and how do those shape our conclusions. Then, if there is information on more than one variable, does it all make sense together -- do things pass the smell test, as one of my former bosses used to say.
I am thinking about these issues because it was obvious that the pandemic data was going to be heavily scrutinized, so one should better lay the cards out on the table and be as transparent as possible. Consider that as a kind of preemptive strike: if later on, anyone casts doubts on the numbers or our efforts, we could always defend ourselves by saying that we had been very transparent with the data and that we were hoping that such transparency would allow the scientific community at large to help us garner better information more quickly for the sake of saving and protecting lives. That is what anyone with half a brain would do.
The first thing one does when analyzing data is evaluating how reliable the data are. How was it collected, what biases might it have, what limitations does it have and how do those shape our conclusions. Then, if there is information on more than one variable, does it all make sense together -- do things pass the smell test, as one of my former bosses used to say.
I am thinking about these issues because it was obvious that the pandemic data was going to be heavily scrutinized, so one should better lay the cards out on the table and be as transparent as possible. Consider that as a kind of preemptive strike: if later on, anyone casts doubts on the numbers or our efforts, we could always defend ourselves by saying that we had been very transparent with the data and that we were hoping that such transparency would allow the scientific community at large to help us garner better information more quickly for the sake of saving and protecting lives. That is what anyone with half a brain would do.
"One can fool some men, or fool all men in some places and times, but one cannot fool all men in all places and ages."
~ Jacques Abbadie, 1684
terça-feira, 23 de junho de 2020
Version 2.050
Today would have been my mother's 78th birthday. Were in not for the pandemic, I probably would have scheduled a trip to Portugal so that I could put flowers on our family grave. I'm the only one in the family that does it. Of course, it does not really matter, but it is a way of reminding ourselves where we come from and also that we are part of something bigger than just our everyday lives. For us to be here now means that many others were here before us.
I scheduled a massage for Friday. Many people think that I am very calm because I don't really show my emotions or, as one of my personal trainers used to say, I've got a poker face, but when I get stressed out, I feel it mostly in my body, rather than my mind. My back gets really tight and it starts to burn, so for the last few weeks I have been daydreaming about someone kneading my back so hard that I can almost feel the pain required to relieve the pain that I feel.
The appointment I requested is for one and a half hours and that's because I was too embarrassed to schedule two hours. I don't even know if it would make sense a two hour massage for a person as small as me, but I will inquire just in case. The therapist I am going to is a neighbor and I only discovered that she did massage last week, when I had dinner at my other neighbor's. She doesn't know yet that she's gained a very good client.
Then tomorrow I will be visiting the dentist because I think I have a cavity. I suspect my cavity has something to do with drinking too much kombucha. I am not supposed to drink carbonated drinks because my teeth are too soft, but I needed the bacteria for my gut. I have stopped drinking it now. Teeth are one of the most frustrating things for me.
I also got an email from my periodontist asking me to review the appointment I never had. I was supposed to go there at the end of March, but everything got shut down because of the pandemic. When I called to ask about it, they told me that they were in the process of rescheduling it, which never happened. I guess I will need to call again. I know I will have to have surgery and it's going to be at least a year and a half of treatments. We shall see...
I scheduled a massage for Friday. Many people think that I am very calm because I don't really show my emotions or, as one of my personal trainers used to say, I've got a poker face, but when I get stressed out, I feel it mostly in my body, rather than my mind. My back gets really tight and it starts to burn, so for the last few weeks I have been daydreaming about someone kneading my back so hard that I can almost feel the pain required to relieve the pain that I feel.
The appointment I requested is for one and a half hours and that's because I was too embarrassed to schedule two hours. I don't even know if it would make sense a two hour massage for a person as small as me, but I will inquire just in case. The therapist I am going to is a neighbor and I only discovered that she did massage last week, when I had dinner at my other neighbor's. She doesn't know yet that she's gained a very good client.
Then tomorrow I will be visiting the dentist because I think I have a cavity. I suspect my cavity has something to do with drinking too much kombucha. I am not supposed to drink carbonated drinks because my teeth are too soft, but I needed the bacteria for my gut. I have stopped drinking it now. Teeth are one of the most frustrating things for me.
I also got an email from my periodontist asking me to review the appointment I never had. I was supposed to go there at the end of March, but everything got shut down because of the pandemic. When I called to ask about it, they told me that they were in the process of rescheduling it, which never happened. I guess I will need to call again. I know I will have to have surgery and it's going to be at least a year and a half of treatments. We shall see...
segunda-feira, 22 de junho de 2020
Version 2.049
I am feeling guilty as I write this, as I failed to send a message to my neighbor in Houston. It was a mix of laziness and carelessness in managing my time, but I must also pat myself on the back for spending most of my weekend working on taxes. I will have enough to itemize deductions this year, so I saved almost all of my shopping receipts and just needed to add all the local taxes that I paid in 2019.
Property and local taxes added up to close to $6900, a rather meager amount compared to property taxes alone in many other big cities, but that's one of the advantages of Memphis. State and local taxes, or SALT, will be added to the contributions to my retirement accounts, health savings account, health insurance premiums, charity contributions, property interest, and other smaller things that I don't recall, to reduce my taxable income. I was surprised to see how long the tax preparation packet is this year. Taxes have gotten really complicated with this last reform.
While I was whiling away in Taxland, the big news of the day was the Tulsa Trump Rally, which did not go well for the Trump campaign. Apparently, many teenagers reserved tickets to go, but had no intention of showing up, so it was a rather lame event. Tulsa, a city in Oklahoma, is still grappling with its history of the Tulsa race massacre that took place in 1921, in which a group of white people attacked the Greenwood district, which had a thriving black community, killing several dozen people and maybe several hundred. It is estimated that about 800 people may have been taken to the hospital.
The affair is not only shameful for the actual events, but also for the cover up that followed and that lasted decades, as local and state history did not include mention of the event. Only in 1996 did the state start to investigate what happened, but school curricula only included it this year, which I find very odd still. My first Christmas spent in the U.S. was in Tulsa, OK, in 1995, and for many years I did not know about the massacre, even though I lived in Oklahoma over seven years. It's still the place where I have lived the longest, after Portugal.
It was in poor taste for Trump to select Tulsa for a rally, but it has also served the purpose of having the massacre be talked about in national news. If Trump had not become President, we'd probably not be having these conversations and the truth is that there are a lot of people who need to hear us acknowledge their suffering. That's the hardest part about this whole thing for me: progress happens more quickly when people like Trump get to power.
Property and local taxes added up to close to $6900, a rather meager amount compared to property taxes alone in many other big cities, but that's one of the advantages of Memphis. State and local taxes, or SALT, will be added to the contributions to my retirement accounts, health savings account, health insurance premiums, charity contributions, property interest, and other smaller things that I don't recall, to reduce my taxable income. I was surprised to see how long the tax preparation packet is this year. Taxes have gotten really complicated with this last reform.
While I was whiling away in Taxland, the big news of the day was the Tulsa Trump Rally, which did not go well for the Trump campaign. Apparently, many teenagers reserved tickets to go, but had no intention of showing up, so it was a rather lame event. Tulsa, a city in Oklahoma, is still grappling with its history of the Tulsa race massacre that took place in 1921, in which a group of white people attacked the Greenwood district, which had a thriving black community, killing several dozen people and maybe several hundred. It is estimated that about 800 people may have been taken to the hospital.
The affair is not only shameful for the actual events, but also for the cover up that followed and that lasted decades, as local and state history did not include mention of the event. Only in 1996 did the state start to investigate what happened, but school curricula only included it this year, which I find very odd still. My first Christmas spent in the U.S. was in Tulsa, OK, in 1995, and for many years I did not know about the massacre, even though I lived in Oklahoma over seven years. It's still the place where I have lived the longest, after Portugal.
It was in poor taste for Trump to select Tulsa for a rally, but it has also served the purpose of having the massacre be talked about in national news. If Trump had not become President, we'd probably not be having these conversations and the truth is that there are a lot of people who need to hear us acknowledge their suffering. That's the hardest part about this whole thing for me: progress happens more quickly when people like Trump get to power.
domingo, 21 de junho de 2020
Version 2.048
I received a very nice visit from the young man who has Portugal written in his car and to whom I offered a basket of Portuguese goods on June 10. Amazingly, his family emigrated from the Azores and Madeira in the 1890s, yes, over 100 years ago, to Hawaii. His surname is Portuguese and a while back he became interested in learning more about his heritage. He has even learned a little bit of Portuguese, mostly Brazilian style, but he showed me that he found a tutor of European Portuguese and he is committed to learning it.
In my basket of goods, I included Fernando Pessoa's Mensagem, even though I did not know if the person would be able to read Portuguese. He is reading it, although he has trouble understanding some of the poems, but his favorite so far is Mostrengo, which reminds me that I should share with him a video of João Villaret reciting it. I shared with him the website for Arquivo Pessoa, since I showed him a page of Livro do Desassossego and he said that he really liked it. He is so committed to his Portuguese heritage, that he purchased a copy of Maria de Medeiros' film "Capitães de Abril" for $75, so that he could have the a DVD that is compatible with North America DVD players. I am impressed...
His wife was working, so she did not come, but I have invited them over to dinner some time, we just don't have a date yet. I don't know quite yet what to cook, but I could try to make something traditional with cod fish. I seldom cook traditional cod fish dishes; the only ones I have mastered are Bacalhau com Natas e Bacalhau cozido com batatas. I am not a very good cook, I am always making up dishes and fail to follow the traditional recipes.
Anyway, he probably thinks that I am crazy because I know how to find so many Portuguese things in the U.S. I even gave him a bag of Delta coffee, since he told me that he did have a coffee mill at home. But it's nice to have someone with whom to talk to about one's country.
In my basket of goods, I included Fernando Pessoa's Mensagem, even though I did not know if the person would be able to read Portuguese. He is reading it, although he has trouble understanding some of the poems, but his favorite so far is Mostrengo, which reminds me that I should share with him a video of João Villaret reciting it. I shared with him the website for Arquivo Pessoa, since I showed him a page of Livro do Desassossego and he said that he really liked it. He is so committed to his Portuguese heritage, that he purchased a copy of Maria de Medeiros' film "Capitães de Abril" for $75, so that he could have the a DVD that is compatible with North America DVD players. I am impressed...
His wife was working, so she did not come, but I have invited them over to dinner some time, we just don't have a date yet. I don't know quite yet what to cook, but I could try to make something traditional with cod fish. I seldom cook traditional cod fish dishes; the only ones I have mastered are Bacalhau com Natas e Bacalhau cozido com batatas. I am not a very good cook, I am always making up dishes and fail to follow the traditional recipes.
Anyway, he probably thinks that I am crazy because I know how to find so many Portuguese things in the U.S. I even gave him a bag of Delta coffee, since he told me that he did have a coffee mill at home. But it's nice to have someone with whom to talk to about one's country.
sábado, 20 de junho de 2020
Version 2.047
Today we celebrated Juneteenth, the day in 1865 in which the slaves were freed in Galveston, TX, more than two years after President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, although still a few months before slavery was outlawed in the Union. The first time I heard about Juneteenth was my a friend in Texas and, today, when we were having our Zoom happy hour and I mentioned this, she said that she became acquainted with it, when she lived in New York state, since the African-American community has long celebrated it.
This is the second African-American holiday that I have seen gain importance ever since moving here, almost 23 years ago. The first one was MLK's birthday. The trouble with social change is that you have to step back and look at it from a distance. If you're too close, you almost miss it. But things are changing and they seem to be changing in the right direction.
This is the second African-American holiday that I have seen gain importance ever since moving here, almost 23 years ago. The first one was MLK's birthday. The trouble with social change is that you have to step back and look at it from a distance. If you're too close, you almost miss it. But things are changing and they seem to be changing in the right direction.
sexta-feira, 19 de junho de 2020
Version 2.046
After work today, I went to Germantown to get some pieces framed. I don't recall ever having anything of significance framed in the U.S. at a real framer, but I had seen this store, which after the pandemic had written on the window "This too shall pass," and I immediately knew that that would be the place for me to have several items that I had collected over the years framed, the reason being that I, too, have "This too shall pass on my Skype status at work.
The total bill was over $2100 and that was after they gave me a discount, but I believe the work will be well worth it, plus I am not planning on having anything else framed--well, I suppose I could have Moon Taxi's autographed poster done, but I have not decided on it, yet.
The young man who helped me with my things was very nice and I liked his input. He asked me about my house and the type of light I had and I showed him a few pictures of my space in order to inform his suggestions. In one of the pieces, he gave me several mats to choose from to frame a nude piece that I had and I chose the one that had a texture that most resembled human skin. When I told him that, he asked me if I was an artist.
I am not an artist; all I do is visit museums and buy books. Then he asked me what kind of books I liked. Personal essays, short stories, and poetry, I replied. I am not a great reader, I read very slowly and I tend to think a lot about what I read, so it is time and energy-consuming, but I did not explain this part to him.
The owner, who is a woman, was also there and happened to take over the conversation with me. She asked me how I had learned about them and it was because they are in the same mall that Trader Joe's is. She was happy to see me probably because I spent quite a bit of money, but I have been collecting these things for over 20 years, so it's really not that much money if you think about the time component.
She told me that they usually have people come in an give talks about artists, so when I go pick up my order, in about 2-3 weeks, I am supposed to sign their guest-book, so that I can receive their announcements via their mailing list. I think that would be a really interesting program and something right up my alley...
The total bill was over $2100 and that was after they gave me a discount, but I believe the work will be well worth it, plus I am not planning on having anything else framed--well, I suppose I could have Moon Taxi's autographed poster done, but I have not decided on it, yet.
The young man who helped me with my things was very nice and I liked his input. He asked me about my house and the type of light I had and I showed him a few pictures of my space in order to inform his suggestions. In one of the pieces, he gave me several mats to choose from to frame a nude piece that I had and I chose the one that had a texture that most resembled human skin. When I told him that, he asked me if I was an artist.
I am not an artist; all I do is visit museums and buy books. Then he asked me what kind of books I liked. Personal essays, short stories, and poetry, I replied. I am not a great reader, I read very slowly and I tend to think a lot about what I read, so it is time and energy-consuming, but I did not explain this part to him.
The owner, who is a woman, was also there and happened to take over the conversation with me. She asked me how I had learned about them and it was because they are in the same mall that Trader Joe's is. She was happy to see me probably because I spent quite a bit of money, but I have been collecting these things for over 20 years, so it's really not that much money if you think about the time component.
She told me that they usually have people come in an give talks about artists, so when I go pick up my order, in about 2-3 weeks, I am supposed to sign their guest-book, so that I can receive their announcements via their mailing list. I think that would be a really interesting program and something right up my alley...
quinta-feira, 18 de junho de 2020
Version 2.045
On Saturday, I FedExed my nephew's birthday present to Portugal. It cost me $220 to send, but it arrived today, one day before promised. I did not have to deal with the hassle of the Portuguese Customs, as it entered the EU via France and FedEx took care of everything. I suppose this is the way to go and, as far as I am concerned, the Post Office can go out of business and I shall be a happy camper.
I mentioned to my neighbor my adventures with the Portuguese customs and she, in her most American way, inquired how people in the customs' office find the time to harass the citizens -- wouldn't they have other things to do? I suppose they do not, if some of us are FedExing packages via France.
On our evening walk, we ran into one of the board member of the Homeowner's Association, who asked me if I'd be interested in serving on the Board. I would not have voting rights, since I was not elected, but I'd have an input, plus he said that they were looking for a female perspective. I said OK, I'd do it, but I still wanted to be involved in the social committee, which I believe will be the most interesting.
Of course, this means that in, no time, I will know a lot of people in the neighborhood. It will be hard to lose that anonymity one has when one is a newcomer, but it does not last forever, I suppose...
I mentioned to my neighbor my adventures with the Portuguese customs and she, in her most American way, inquired how people in the customs' office find the time to harass the citizens -- wouldn't they have other things to do? I suppose they do not, if some of us are FedExing packages via France.
On our evening walk, we ran into one of the board member of the Homeowner's Association, who asked me if I'd be interested in serving on the Board. I would not have voting rights, since I was not elected, but I'd have an input, plus he said that they were looking for a female perspective. I said OK, I'd do it, but I still wanted to be involved in the social committee, which I believe will be the most interesting.
Of course, this means that in, no time, I will know a lot of people in the neighborhood. It will be hard to lose that anonymity one has when one is a newcomer, but it does not last forever, I suppose...
quarta-feira, 17 de junho de 2020
Version 2.044
The Georgia Peach Truck was making a delivery in Memphis today, so I went and got the box that I had ordered. I was not expecting for the line to be so long. They had several police officers guiding traffic and, even still, we stood in line for close to two hours. Those peaches better be the best peaches of my life or I am going to ask God to give me a refund on my waiting time.
The good thing, though, is that I finally finished the audiobook "The Age of Light," which is an historical fiction portrayal of Lee Miller's life, in particular the time that she went to Paris and started working and dating Man Ray. I think I should listen to it again -- maybe on my next road trip. I sure miss traveling, plus mentally I really need a vacation. File that under first world problems, I suppose. Many times I wonder how my genes made it to me because I'm all about comfort. I should've been extinct long ago.
I was asked to be in the social committee for the Homeowner's Association and I said yes. We were goofing off and I suggested that we should do a Stayin' Alive Outdoor Party, since we are going through the pandemic. We could all wear bell bottoms and hippie clothes. Anyway, it will be interesting to see what we'll be able to come up with now that we cannot go to a restaurant to have a Christmas dinner, since many of the residents are in the risk group. Plus, come fall and winter, things might be really bad. I don't see that many people taking care to wear masks and social distance.
Tomorrow, will be wicked in the morning. I have a meeting at 7:30 AM, then I'm supposed to lead the 8 AM meeting. I hope to be bright eyed and bushy-tailed by then. I'm about to fall asleep right now...
The good thing, though, is that I finally finished the audiobook "The Age of Light," which is an historical fiction portrayal of Lee Miller's life, in particular the time that she went to Paris and started working and dating Man Ray. I think I should listen to it again -- maybe on my next road trip. I sure miss traveling, plus mentally I really need a vacation. File that under first world problems, I suppose. Many times I wonder how my genes made it to me because I'm all about comfort. I should've been extinct long ago.
I was asked to be in the social committee for the Homeowner's Association and I said yes. We were goofing off and I suggested that we should do a Stayin' Alive Outdoor Party, since we are going through the pandemic. We could all wear bell bottoms and hippie clothes. Anyway, it will be interesting to see what we'll be able to come up with now that we cannot go to a restaurant to have a Christmas dinner, since many of the residents are in the risk group. Plus, come fall and winter, things might be really bad. I don't see that many people taking care to wear masks and social distance.
Tomorrow, will be wicked in the morning. I have a meeting at 7:30 AM, then I'm supposed to lead the 8 AM meeting. I hope to be bright eyed and bushy-tailed by then. I'm about to fall asleep right now...
terça-feira, 16 de junho de 2020
Version 2.043
What a day! The Supreme Court of the United States affirms that Civil Rights laws also protect LGBTQ workers from discrimination. Neil Gorsuch, the first Trump appointee to the Supreme Court, voted with the majority. If you'd ask me, I would have said that it would've been more probable for Kavanaugh to vote with the majority, but, alas, I was wrong indeed as Kavanaugh voted against it.
The cherry on the cake is that SCOTUS has also turned away 10 appeals that aimed at widening gun rights protections. It is quite remarkable such a turn, since the court tends to move slowly and cautiously, but when they see the writing on the wall, they do keep up with the times.
Speaking of SCOTUS, when I was in DC in February, I stopped by the National Portrait Gallery and there was a portrait of the four female Justices: Sandra Day O'Connor (she's retired), Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Elena Kagan, and Sonia Sotomayor. Around that time, someone sent me a very funny Portuguese social media post that said the SCOTUS Justices are known as the Supremes. Nope, they are called Justices. The Supremes are that band whose lead singer was Diana Ross. And, yes, the National Portrait Gallery also had a portrait of the Supremes: a poster of one of their concerts.
The cherry on the cake is that SCOTUS has also turned away 10 appeals that aimed at widening gun rights protections. It is quite remarkable such a turn, since the court tends to move slowly and cautiously, but when they see the writing on the wall, they do keep up with the times.
Speaking of SCOTUS, when I was in DC in February, I stopped by the National Portrait Gallery and there was a portrait of the four female Justices: Sandra Day O'Connor (she's retired), Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Elena Kagan, and Sonia Sotomayor. Around that time, someone sent me a very funny Portuguese social media post that said the SCOTUS Justices are known as the Supremes. Nope, they are called Justices. The Supremes are that band whose lead singer was Diana Ross. And, yes, the National Portrait Gallery also had a portrait of the Supremes: a poster of one of their concerts.
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