My Gratitude Journal: “I'm grateful for my cat, green olives, baking soda, photographs”

More entries from the Gratitude Journal I started keeping after my college graduation:

January 24, 2997

I forgot yesterday, and even though I just cried my eyes out and soaked my pillow, here it is:

1.  I’m grateful S didn’t yell at me, not really.

 

2. I’m grateful N and her boyfriend didn’t come back.

 

3. I’m grateful it’s artichoke season, and I got some damn good ones.

 

4. I’m grateful that I have the house to myself, so I can sob as loudly as I want.

 

5. Again, I’m grateful for music, for a good song and dancing can usually make me forget about anything.

 

6. I’m grateful that I don’t have to work with him anymore, because I just can’t help myself.

 

February 18, 1997

1. I’m grateful for books like “The Bean Trees” that I can escape into time and again.

 

2. I’m grateful for all the Texas sheet cake that Karen’s mom sends her home with.

 

3. I’m grateful that I had the balls to call Vallejo.

 

4. I’m grateful that J convinced me to call.

 

5. I’m grateful that I actually have a place like M & M’s to go to, even if it is reluctantly.

 

6. I’m grateful for purple, flowery skirts and that I have nice legs. Thanks, mom.

 

February 23, 1997

1. Once again, I’m grateful for music, and songs like “Crash” by The Dave Matthews Band, that can articulate and begin feelings inexpressible.

 

2. I’m grateful I still live near the ocean so I can watch the waves and be calmed, cleaned.

 

3. I’m grateful for my cat, someone warm to love and cuddle up with every night.

 

4. I’m grateful for green olives, so good and salty and spicy.

 

5. I’m grateful for baking soda, it’s cheap and good for so many things, like easing heartburn from drinking spicy Bloody Mary mix late at night.

 

6. I’m grateful for pictures. What would our world be without them? What is our world like because of them? What if we couldn’t look at the faces of loved ones gone again?

Would we forget our lives? How would we show each other our past? That’s who they’re for — to communicate to others who weren’t there. It is an invaluable form of communication, showing images that would otherwise only exist in the minds of those who saw it, and how do you impart that information?

 

Some of my favorite photographs were taken by my friend Nathan, who discovered his love of traveling and taking pictures after meeting his father and taking road trips together. 

My Grandmother's Journals: August, 1997

My grandmother in Toledo, Spain, 1968.

My grandmother kept track of her days in tiny notebooks, writing down when she woke up, what she ate, what movies she went to see and what she watched on TV, which was a lot of news, sports and Star Trek.

 

In August of 1997 at 81, she was exchanging letters and phone calls weekly with Mina, a woman she met while both were being raised in a Masonic home in Covina, Calif., while still battling ants in her kitchen and fretting about having to take a test to renew her driver's license. 

 

Unfortunately, she was also still avoiding the donut shop where she had befriended the owners and most of the other regulars. More on that in the July entries.

Friday, Aug. 1, 1997

Walked on West Cliff.

To Longs for BP, paper.

McDonald's, got coffee & muffin (mall).

To Credit Union, put $5,000 in CD for 3 years, 6.5%

Forgot rent. She leaves at 3 p.m.

TV: Star Trek, TNG.

Saturday, Aug. 2, 1997

Up 7:30, tea.

Called Mina, talked 1 hour. She stopped taking blood thinner.

Wrote more of letter, sent article on HMO.

To Longs, BP, paper.

To library, got video: “When the Cat’s Away.” Some fun, but main girl dumb.

Home, lawn. Read papers.

Sunday, Aug. 3, 1997

Tennis.

Put up new shades on two windows. First goofed, second no problem.

TV: Dodgers vs. Cubs, some 60 Minutes, X-Files, La Femme Nikita.

 

Monday, Aug. 4, 1997

Call at 3:33 a.m. Did not answer.

Not best sleep. Sun bright.

Cleaned kitchen sinks with Pine-Sol, hope keeps ants away.

Longs, paper & BP.

Safeway, corn, zucchini, forgot deodorant spray.

Put up two more shades , then vacuumed some walls and floor. Moved bookcase in bedroom, swapped TV and shoes.

TV: News, Poirot, Miss Marple, Suddenly Susan, Cybill, TNG.

Full day.

Tuesday, Aug. 5, 1997

Up 8. Tea.

Some cobweb cleaning. Watered lawn.

Shower, hair.

To Longs 11:45, Vibol in parking lot. Said hello.

Got Osteo check at Longs, 30% down on bone mass.

Ran Morse tape, Law & Order new to me.

 

Wednesday, Aug. 6, 1997

Up 8:30. Radio static. To Myra’s, tried radio.

Some housework.

To Longs, got cans of Mandarin oranges.

To Wherehouse, got two videos.

To library, read on Osteo.

To “English Patient” again.

To market, got a few nectarines and peaches.

Ran “Lost Boys.” Loud. 

Bed, no sleep til 2 a.m.

Saturday, Aug. 9, 1997

Tea, cereal here.

Walked on East Cliff, some high waves.

Longs, BP, etc.

To Gembrokers, appraisal. Nice man.

Got fish and chips!!

TV: 49ers over Seahawks.

French, news, Faulty Towers.

 

Sunday, Aug. 10, 1997

Up 8:30. No electric blanket. Radio static. 

Walked, many in surf, parking lot full.

Tennis: Sampras, Seles won.

Some golf, wrote letters.

TV: News, Siskel & Ebert, Silk Stalkings.

 

Monday, Aug. 11, 1997

Wrote checks for girls.

Longs, BP. Bank, post office.

Planted Lobellia and Forget-me-nots.

Talked to Margaret.

Warm. Larry cut Myra’s grass. Cutters came same day, swept.

TV: News, Poirot, Marple, Cybill, TNG.

Sleep 11:30-1:45-3:30-7:30

 

Tuesday, Aug. 12, 1997

Watered lawn with fertilizer.

Ronn in LA, good talk.

Shower, hair.

Longs, BP.

To show, “George of the Jungle.” Some fun.

Home, washed white curtains.

Mary to Marie Callender’s. Soup, pie.

Home, ironed curtains.

TV: Morse, Law & Order. Fraiser, TNG. Only watched 1/2 hour, tired.

 

Wednesday, Aug. 13, 1997

Slept 10:30-1:30-3:30-6:30.

Radio, tea, cereal. Ronn controversial.

Washed middle room windows, put up curtains. 

Kmart, checked BP, got chicken sandwich. Gave boy seven cents.

Got ankle hose, TV Guide.

Mail: Letter from Mina.

TV: News, Dodgers lost, Giants lost.

Star Trek Voyager, TNG.

 

Thursday, Aug. 14, 1997

Slept good.

Washed car & hosed west side of mobile home.

Longs, BP, then Albertsons and Trader Joe’s, got ginko for Mina.

Home, golf. To bank to deposit Mina’s check, $14.81.

DMV, made appt for license. 

TV: News, some Benny Goodman program.

Friday, Aug. 15, 1997

Next door yelling at 7 a.m.

Up 9:05, tea.

Golf, Tiger to start at 10.

To Longs, BP, got Kleenex and muffins.

Mall, looked for “Polish cloth.” Got scarf, black hat, purse.

Paper, crossword.

News at 11, UPS scandal.

 

Saturday, Aug. 16, 1997

Not good sleep.

Longs, BP + paper.

Home, message from Carol. Sentinel has article on Vibol.

Golf: Tiger not putting good, anxious.

Kmart, got wipes and dish soap.

To show, “Shall we Dance?”

Sears, got coin purse. Almost got purse.

Library, got 3 videos. 

Sunday, Aug. 17, 1997

Up 8, golf.

To Albertsons, got lettuce, peaches.

Called Carol to thank her for calling yesterday. She getting ready for art showing.

TV: “Great Moments of Opera,” checked 60 Minutes. 

To Trader Joe’s, more fish.

Not good sleep, Larry up calling, "Kitty."

 

Monday, Aug. 18, 1997

Awake 7, up 9. Ronn had psychic.

Longs, BP, Valerian, cayenne/garlic.

Wrote Mimi, Mina.

Football: 49ers lost to Jacksonville.

Saw MIR pass over 9:29 p.m., moon bright.

 

Tuesday, Aug. 19, 1997

Up 9, ate here. 

Some chores, watered lawns.

Shower, hair.

To show, “Conspiracy Theory.” Good, Mel Gibson gives good performance. Patrick Stewart is “bad” man. Show long.

TV: Taped Mad About You, Frasier. Watched X-Files rerun.

Bed, news, Letterman.

Wednesday, Aug. 20, 1997

Awake 7, up 9:40. Slept again.

Tea, walked. Felt dull.

To Longs, BP out of order.

To DMV. Passed written, but eye test difficult.

To Kmart, ice cream.

Thursday, Aug. 21, 1997

Worked in yard. Put plastic green between Larry and me.

Longs, BP still out of order.

To Beacon to put air in tires.

To Kmart, ate lunch, got “Gum-out.”

Two hours to write letter to Prudy, big, sent Justine's card.

Sunday, Aug. 24, 1997

Up 8:30. Breakfast McDonald’s!

BP at Longs.

Walked on East Cliff. 

Hot today. Beautiful day!

TV: 60 Minutes, part of “Man Without a Face.”

Bed late!

 

Monday, Aug. 25, 1997

Up 7:30, watered lawn. Some chores.

To Longs, BP low. Got TV Guide, fruit.

To McDonald's, had decaf and muffin.

To Kmart, got gas and BP.

Looked for cardboard box, changed car box -- oil, etc. -- into new box.

Cleaned shelves a bit, took to dump.

Bed 10:30, tired.

Tuesday, Aug. 26, 1997

Awake 5, back to sleep. Up 9.

Tea, cereal, walked.

Wrote girls re no deposit 9/1.

To post office, got stamps.

To Trader Joe's, got sorbet.

TV: Tennis, NOVA, Frasier, TNG.

Read paper.

Wednesday, Aug. 27, 1997

Good sleep.

Up 7:15, awake 6.

Checked oil, talked to Eloise.

Breakfast Kmart.

Justine called, changed number.

Changed pots and plants around.

Larry home, talked a bit.

TV: More tennis, TNG.

Thursday, Aug. 28, 1997

Watered back, weeded.

Tennis rain delay.

Longs BP out of order again!

To mall, Lily there. Eye trouble, growth on nose. Will not have it removed.

Gottschalk’s, sale on: Got denims, matching top.

To library, returned videos.

To show, “Mrs. Brown.” Good, need to know history!

TV: Tennis, Diagnosis Murder, TNG. 

11 news: Dog who sniffs termites!

 

Friday, Aug. 29, 1997

Rent Monday!

Up 8:30, ate here, low-fat muffin.

Longs BP OK.

Home 2 p.m. News, typed report of arthritis.

TV: Tennis, Dodgers vs A’s. Dodgers won in 10th inning. 5-4.

 

Saturday, Aug. 30, 1997

Breakfast Egg McMuffin.

Walked East Cliff 9 - 9:15.

Checked Thrifty for purses, none.

Longs, BP out of order.

To Kmart for eggs, ham, muffin.

News: Princess Diana killed in car accident in Paris, in Tunnel Pont de Alma. Chauffeur also killed. Watched TV til 1 a.m. Radio also.

Sunday, Aug. 31, 1997

Rent tomorrow.

Awake 7 a.m., up 8:30.

Radio a bit. 

Tennis: Seles won, Venus Williams won, Agassi won.

Changed coolant, watered lawn. Talked to Eloise next-door.

TV: 60 Minutes devoted to Diana, car traveling in excess of 100 mph.

 

More on my grandmother: In 1997, she was living alone in a mobile home park in Santa Cruz, Calif., but I wouldn't describe her as lonely. She was an extremely independent and persnickety woman whom I never knew to live with another person or even a pet. (I wrote more about her life in an earlier post.)  

Trying the first Macintosh computer? Ecstasy. Getting a new iPhone? Agony

Something amazing happened when I went to get a new phone last year: I didn’t buy one, because instead of pressuring me to spend a bunch of money, the salesperson helped me keep my old phone running a bit longer.

That was cool. 

Because I didn’t want a new phone. I still loved my old one, an iPhone 5 that works just fine, thank you very much. Fine, that is, until the “Home” key gave out, making the phone so frustrating to use that even I had to admit it was time to replace it.

Why so reluctant? Because I am no longer that girl who fell in love with the first Macintosh computer my father brought home in the 1980s. Back then I was a teenager, so I hopped on the newfangled Mouse like it was a magic carpet.

But four decades later, learning new technology no longer feels like soaring to new heights — it’s more like making a wrong turn out of your quiet neighborhood and onto a busy freeway, suddenly becoming a panicked tourist, lost and in the way.

Like in Chicago when I tried to buy a train pass at the station near my hotel. After many agonizing minutes of hogging a ticket machine to no avail, an employee finally appeared to explain I couldn’t buy what I needed there and pointed me to a drugstore across the huge, busy intersection.

Frantically memorizing all the street signs and praying I could get back to the train station once I got my ticket, I stepped off the curb. And when I bought the pass, found the station again and boarded the right train, I swelled with the pride of accomplishment as I looked out the window at the tall buildings of Chicago’s famous Loop, finally seeing in person what I had admired in movies and on television.

Moments like those are why we travel: We dive into the agony of the unknown because we know the ecstasy of resurfacing, now stronger and smarter than we were before.

But I’ve reached an age where I’m starting to fear I may never be any stronger or smarter than I am right now. And instead of swelling with pride when I regain control, I’m usually sweating from the knowledge that I barely escaped with most of my dignity intact, and that next time I will have even less to spare.

Like the morning in Montana I had a meltdown just trying to get breakfast. Hungry and frazzled, I spilled some of the greens I was collecting at a grocery store hot food bar and became so overwhelmed by the annoyed regulars surrounding me that I began to cry. Picking up as much of my mess as I could, I escaped to the yogurt aisle and pretended to study the labels for several minutes until I was ready to try again.

I finally did gather my food, but back in the car I was humiliated instead of happy, feeling weaker instead of stronger. This is learning new technology now: The agony of travel you didn’t choose, with no ecstasy reward afterward.

Because instead of teenage me riding the Macintosh magic carpet, I am now my mother, stuck in traffic and needing her teenager’s help at every turn. And even worse? I am that middle-aged woman without even an impatient daughter to help her navigate. 

That’s why it was so cool when I first tried to get a new phone, I was helped by a young woman who was far more patient than my mother’s daughter ever was. 

“Most people choose that plan,” she said, steering me away from the most expensive plan I was pointing at. Once the paperwork was done, she brought out my new phone and picked up my old phone to complete the transfer.

“Yeah, that doesn’t work anymore,” I said when she tried the Home key. “That’s why I’m here.”

But she had a magic wand. With a few swipes she put a “virtual home key” on the screen and quickly accessed anything she wanted. I was astounded. Is that really all I needed? 

She handed me her tablet with my new contract, but I couldn’t sign. I just kept staring at my old phone, which now really did work just fine. 

I took a deep breath. “Is it too late to back out? I... I didn’t want to give up my old phone.”

“Of course not,” she said, barely hesitating before accepting my wishes and deleting my contract.

“How much longer do you think this phone will last?” I said. 

“Probably a long time,” she said. “It’s the Home key that usually gives out on those.”

“I guess I just needed a young person in my life,” I said, my cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and relief as I left without a new phone I didn’t want to buy, and without being chained to a three-year contract I didn’t want to sign.

Soon I learned just how kind that young lady was when I finally did get a new phone a few months later. To avoid signing a service contract, I did not return to the store where she worked and instead went to a large retailer I trusted where I could buy my phone outright.

Everything about the second salesperson there was the opposite of the first: She had pointed me to a cheaper plan, he pushed me again and again to the most expensive one. And whenever I asked questions, he bristled before giving me incomplete or false information.

When I asked if the phone would connect with my old laptop, he said it would, but it didn’t. He told me I needed to buy another power brick because the new phone didn’t come with one and I couldn’t charge it with my old cords. Not true: After buying a new power brick, I found that all my old cords worked just fine on my new phone.

Perhaps the worst lie he told was that he had spelled my name correctly. Knowing that so many people struggle to spell my Danish surname, I insisted he make sure he got it right on my email before my contract was completed. He reluctantly checked, then assured me he spelled it correctly.

But before even leaving the store, I got an alert on my new phone telling me that the email on my account had been changed. Thinking my account had already been hacked, I called customer service as soon as I got home and sat on hold for 30 minutes only to learn that the change was because the salesman had indeed spelled my name incorrectly. And instead of admitting it, he lied and changed it, prompting my frantic call to customer service.

Correction: I didn’t need just any young person in my life, I needed a kind young person in my life!

Happy update: Now that I’ve regained most of my dignity, I am pleased to report that this old gal can still learn new tricks: Like how when taking a photo, if you keep your finger on the screen it will begin taking video automatically. 

This feature is great if you’re taking a photo of a bird which suddenly starts flying, but I especially love it because I not only discovered it myself, but was able to teach it to a younger friend, a professional photographer who is usually showing me how to use my phone.

And he captured my proud moment on video:

My gratitude journal in college: “I’m grateful there was no video camera last night”

Me hiking Black Hill near Morro Bay.

Right after I graduated college I started keeping a “gratitude journal,” writing down at the end of each day at least five things I was grateful for during this very exciting, but also very fraught, transition period in my life.

That was cool.

Not only because the journal helped me stay grounded at the time, but because I could find it now and enjoy reading the entries on a day when I really needed to be reminded of all the good things there are to be grateful for. And maybe even more, needed a good laugh!

January 17, 1997

1. I’m grateful for the beautiful and amazing view we saw atop Black Hill today, much better than Madonna Mountain.

2. I’m grateful for doughnuts.

3. I’m grateful for Andrews*, and how he and Berger make me laugh, and how he’s always happy to see me.

4. I’m grateful that I’m still young and feel vibrant and beautiful.

5. I’m grateful/glad for the feeling of water. That such a simple thing can feel so good.

6. I’m grateful for Texas-size margaritas for $3.50 at Hudson’s in flavors like watermelon, raspberry and kiwi, with big paper umbrellas that actually fold down.

January 19, 1997

1. I’m so f--king grateful that I didn’t have sex with Andrews; I’m grateful no clothes came off. I didn’t even touch him. Just kissing. I wish it hadn’t happened, but I’m grateful, that is all.

2. I’m grateful that no man has tried to have anal sex with me.

3. I’m grateful for showers, and the feeling of renewal afterward.

4. I’m grateful that I have my own room.

5. I’m grateful there was no video camera last night.

January 21, 1997

1. I’m grateful it was raining, so I didn’t walk by the journalism building today.

2. I’m grateful for the deliciousness of the potatoes and eggs I can make in the morning, they never cease to satisfy me.

3. I’m grateful for all the rain, because the green mountains are so beautiful. Breathtaking.

4. I’m grateful for my car.

5. For strawberry preserves, and cheesecake to pour them over.

6. I’m grateful that tomorrow is another day, and I can try something new.

January 22, 1997

Oh, this is going to be a hard one...

1. I’m grateful that I can cook, and I still have things like chicken and rice to make.

2. I’m grateful that I have a credit card, so I could buy toner for my printer.

3. I’m grateful that I’m healthy, and young.

4. I’m grateful that I’ve been to Paris, and London.

5. I’m grateful for reading, for being able to read delicious novels like The English Patient is the best, sincerest form of escape I know. It is the only thing that truly makes me feel human. Like I was a little girl again, where all that mattered was the bed was comfy, and the only thing that I wished for was that my mother would let me have milk instead of water. That was my burning question: “Why not?”

That was it, not this infernal noise in my head of late bills and not getting my degree and not finding a job and running out of money and watching too much TV and wanting a man who betrayed his girlfriend again and again and who would only end up betraying me yet I still can’t stop wanting him.

I just wanted to read “Starring Sally J. Freedman as herself” again and again and drink milk by my bedside. And get rid of those curtains. And make out with my teddy bear. I should have stuck with teddy bears.

*Not his real name.

My Grandmother’s Journals: July, 1997

My grandmother, right, camping in Mexico in the 1950s.

In July of 1997, my 82-year-old grandmother was watching tennis, researching the Mars Pathfinder and keeping up on the health of everyone in her life, especially her neighbors and the people she talked to at the donut shop near her house. 

 

But something happened at the shop this month that upset her, and she abruptly stopped her daily visits. 

 

I remember being sad at the time when I learned she was no longer going there, because it seemed like such a big part of her life. I never learned exactly what happened, because she wouldn't talk about it. 

 

June entries.

Tuesday, July 1, 1997

To laundromat. Warm.

Tennis: Hingis, Becker won.

To Live Oak, Alice on vacation.

Walked on cliff.

Stopped at Vibol’s for apple juice, donut.

TV: News, Frost, Law & Order.

 

Wednesday, July 2, 1997

Awake 7:30, up 9. Warm.

To Trader Joe’s. 

To Vibol’s. He reminisced, Buddhism.

To show, “Face-off.” 2 hrs, 20 mins. Thriller. Director James Woo. Much special effects.

Ate KFC.

TV: Nickelodeon, Lucy, Bewitched.

Slept good.

Robert Mitchum died, lung cancer, emphysema. Heavy smoker, 79.

 

Thursday, July 3, 1997

Longs, BP.

Vibol’s. Tea, no coffee. 

Tennis: Good matches. Becker announced no more Wimbledon.

Ironed, cleaned windows of car, front door.

TV: Diagnosis Murder, St. Elsewhere.

Jimmy Stewart died. 89. “Heart attack.”

 

Friday, July 4, 1997

Sleep not great. 

Tennis: Sampras vs. Woodbridge, Woodbridge rallied very good in third set. 

Folded plastic bags to give to thrift shop. 

Washed car, some nicks.

Man next door a Mason.

Dina Ruiz on Ch. 8

Saturday, July 5, 1997

Tennis: Tuned in about 7, after first set.

Longs, BP.

Vibol’s. Clayton in. Gets MRI Monday.

Mailed card to Prudy.

Cats in back last night.

Tired, rest 4 to 5.

TV: Bio of Jimmy Stewart, Robert Mitchum.

Monday, July 7, 1997

Slept good. 

Ronn gone, back tomorrow.

To Vibol’s. In paper today, “Confusion in Cambodia.”

To Gottschalk’s, looked for “dicky” denim blue. None.

Wrote Mina, long, re: Vibol, Cambodia, Earl Woods, Wimbledon.

Mail:  Card from Justine with copy of graduation announcement.

To Kmart, ate chicken sandwich.

Called Justine, left message on machine.

TV: Cybill, news.

Tuesday, July 8, 1997

Stayed in bed til 9:15.

To Vibol’s. Monie there, I read Chronicle to her.

To library, got book on Malta.

Wrote Justine.

Checked Goodwill, walked to St. Vincent’s. Got gold holder for $3. Tax, .24.

TV: Law & Order, Inspector Morse, ST Next Generation.

 

Wednesday, July 9, 1997

To Vibol’s after vacuuming chair.

To show, “Men in Black.” Good, funny.

To Wendy’s.

To Longs, got TV Guide.

Home, Sandra called again!  Returned call.

Called library re Pathfinder: left Earth 12/4/96, Mars 7/4/97. Seven months.

Thursday, July 10, 1997

Prudy and Hugh anniversary.

To Longs, checked BP.

To Vibol’s, told him about Pathfinder.

Wrote Prudy.

Mail: Notice from DMV, no proof of insurance. Showed them, with copy I sent. Got sticker, also booklet to study.

Some Dodgers vs. Giants, 11-0.

Friday, July 11, 1997

To Longs, BP.

To Vibol’s, he had pain in head.

To Venetian Hotel for brochure. 

To Ross, got necklace (2), earrings.

To marina, got ice cream.

Dodgers over Giants 6-1. Nomo MVP.

Saturday, July 12, 1997

To Vibol’s, he seems OK.

Looked in thrift stores for stool.

Home, ate.

Got migraine medicine for Vibol.

Dodgers lost to Giants, 6-3.

 

Monday, July 14, 1997

To Longs. Man at BP worried about pressure. Alcohol on breath.

To Vibol’s, he looks good.

To dentist 1 p.m. “Debbie,” new, good. No exam.

To Kmart, Got stool, cut legs? Ate turkey sandwich.

TV: New, Poirot, “Indochine.” French, Catherine Denevue, good. 

Tuesday, July 15, 1997

To Longs for paper, BP.

To St. Vincent de Paul’s. Got two chairs, blue and brown plush.

To library. Read about films, migraine.

Home: News, baseball, bed.

 

Wednesday, July 16, 1997

To Longs, got more cans of Mandarins, TV Guide.

To Vibol’s, he not there.

Housework, vacuumed.

Weather funny, tropical fog.

Dusted, put label on African statue, cat.

Nothing much on TV.

 

Thursday, July 17, 1997

Breakfast Kmart. 

Went to San Lorenzo lumber to see if legs on stool can be cut. 

There were small stools, got one, $11.

To show, “Contact.”

To Kmart, returned stool. Ate chicken sandwich, ice cream!

TV: “Fresh Prince,” Diagnosis Murder, ST Next Generation.

Friday, July 18, 1997

Laundromat, two batches of blue things: Sweatshirt, bathrobe, purple suit.

Longs for BP.

Five & Dime: Got deodorant, face liquid, hand creme.

New glasses ready, late to get.

Watched “Eyewitness,” William Hurt, Sigourney Weaver, James Wood. 

Saturday, July 19, 1997

British Open.

To Vibol’s, said head hurt. Monie angry, snatched package with migraine medicine.

To library, looked up pneumonia.

To show, “Pillow Book.” Japanese, calligraphy. Great color, photo, split screen?

Five & Dime: Took back polish remover, got eye shadow.

TV: News, The Pale Horse.

Sunday, July 20, 1997

British Open

To OSH, got lawn sprinkler for Miracle Gro.

To Longs for BP.

Home, watered lawn., fertilized.

Oscar & Lois came by, talked a bit.

Showered, washed hair. 

TV: 60 Minutes, Star Trek Voyager.

Tuesday, July 22, 1997

Longs for BP, TV Guide, strawberries.

To show, “Men in Black.” 2nd time.

Ate Burger King.

Mail: Card from Justine.

TV: Frasier, Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: TNG.

Wednesday, July 23, 1997

Ate here.

To Longs, machine off.

Walked on East Cliff.

To Nob Hill, no BP machine at Nob Hill?

TV: Dodgers vs. Mets. Part of Law & Order.

Cunanan’s body found in houseboat.

 

Thursday, July 24, 1997

Ate here.

Watched Miami news. Chief of police, no info. Too many newspapers, media.

To Longs, BP machine OK.

To Ross, got Barrette. Should be silver.

Got new rug.

Washed black top.

Dodgers vs. Mets, 3-1.

Friday, July 25, 1997

To Longs, BP.

To Gottschalk’s, bought 3 items. Two sport tops, 1 blue for skirt, 1 beige for pants.

Home, ate corn.

To Live Oak, got chicken, had ice cream!

TV: Giants lost, Dodgers won. Inside the Actor's Studio, Billy Crystal. Funny.

Saturday, July 26, 1997

Bomb at SFO? Traffic delay.

Finished crossword.

To Longs for BP, paper.

To library: Time magazine, Barrows.

Woolworth’s. Got new blinds, mousse, hairspray.

TV: “Love Potion No. 9,” Sandra Bullock.

Not good sleep. Took hot milk, melatonin.

Sunday, July 27, 1997

Wharf to Wharf. What traffic!

To post office for check to IRS. Man hemmed me in.

Gottschalk’s, 10% off.

Worked on files.

To show, “Airforce One.” Good. Escape pod?

TV: News, Siskel & Ebert, 60 Minutes, “The Presidio.”

 

Monday, July 28, 1997

Changed bed.

Got clothes ready for laundromat.

Took Larry to Live Oak to see new carts for waste!

Some yard work.

Shower, hair.

Justine called, got her raise. Move to apartment?
Ate Carl’s. Bacon! Cheese.

Papers, crossword.

Tuesday, July 29, 1997

Breakfast here. 

Laundromat, BP.

Ironed tops, fertilized lawn.

Woolworth’s, got file folders, stapler, Dristan, pens.

To show, “English Patient.” Still don’t know all they say.

TV: Frasier, NOVA.

 

Wednesday, July 30, 1997

Tea, Cereal.

Called Schwab 9 a.m., sell GTE, 46 5/8.

To longs, Post Office.

To Live Oak, sat with Jim and 4 ladies. Man from Florida there.

 

Thursday, July 31, 1997

Good sleep.

Bombing in Israel. 

Breakfast Kmart. No razors.

Drug Emporium, got razors, hair items.

Read papers, ate, etc. Some more work on files.

Wrote Mina? Maybe Wed.

TV: Mystery, Poirot, ST: TNG.

 

August entries. 

 

More on my grandmother: In 1997, she was living alone in a mobile home park in Santa Cruz, Calif., but I wouldn't describe her as lonely. She was an extremely independent and persnickety woman whom I never knew to live with another person or even a pet. (I wrote more about her life in an earlier post.) 

 

My rejected short stories: Bikini strings and coconut oil. (Alternate title: How to be a Girl)

“You don’t want pubic hair, believe me,” said April, angry she had razored her crotch just to lie next to a glorified pond with a 12-year-old. “Why the rush?”

“Because...” Ashley paused for once. “Tina says I can’t hang out with her on the weekends until I get some. She says the weekend is when the women go out.”

“I see. And how does she know? She inspect you every Friday?”

“Gross! No, she just knows when I’m lying. My mom doesn’t, but Tina does.”

“Yeah, I think your mom does, too. But I really think you need to stop hanging out with Tina.”

April woke to someone standing over her towel.

“Earth to April.”

 

He sounded like Ashley’s cousin Brian, but the skinny skateboarder was now a Ken doll in red surfer shorts. Only with much better hair.

“Hey,” she finally managed, shielding her eyes from his sexy stomach and kicking herself for never preparing properly. All those times she headed to the beach, telling herself today was when one of the boys would talk to her — why did she always think to shave her toes, but never about what to say?

“Having fun?”

She shrugged.

“Let’s get out of here.”

April slid her feet into Noreen’s flip flops with the plastic daisies on top.

“Those look like my mom’s!”

Yep, that’s why boys never stopped at her towel — she didn’t even own proper beach shoes, let alone a bikini.

“Can I come?” Ashley asked, but she knew the answer.

“Nah, Ash,” Brian said. “I need you to stay and watch the others. You’re the oldest now.”

She sighed. “Bye, April.”

April wanted to say, “Don’t worry. Soon the boys will all be coming to your towel, believe me,” but her voice was snagged on Brian's shark tooth necklace.

“So, arcade or golf? No bowling until dark,” Brian asked in his car.

April shrugged.

“I say golf, it’s outside.” He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. “Wanna drive?”

April shook her head.

“Right,” he said with a smirk-smile as he pulled a shirt from the back seat. “Girls don’t drive sticks.”

“I can. I learned on a stick,” she said, finally able to form full sentences once he buttoned his shirt.

“Guess you’re more fun that I remember,” he said, flashing a smile that finally reached his eyes.

 

“You got a boyfriend?” he asked at the second hole.

“Not really.” She didn’t know what to call the boy who was still waiting for a kiss, after waiting six months for her to hug him.

Brian laughed. “He know that?”

She stared at the carpet grass, wondering what she would have let Seth do by now if he had a chest like Brian’s.

“What do you do when you’re not in school? Party?”

“No, I don’t drink.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he said, surprising April enough that she let herself imagine all those tanned muscles next to her at the beach, finally making the other girls jealous of her.

“Yeah, it gives you a gut,” he said, slapping his stomach. “Me, I like to smoke. Not just cigarettes, if you know what I mean.”

April pretended she was planning her next shot.

“I don’t have anything to smoke right now, but my friends do. I’m meeting them later at the club.”

April whacked her ball as hard as she could, sending it into the side of a windmill and off the course.

“Whoa, girl!” Brian laughed, whistling as he watched the ball until it landed, then trotted off to get it.

When they returned their clubs, he handed her the scorecard, though he had stopped keeping track after the windmill.

“Here. It’ll be a memento of our day.”

His face seemed sincere, until she found the sneer hiding in his eyes.

“Hey, are you guys coming up for dinner?” said Ashley, panting as she ran up to them. “Mom promised we’re playing Trivial Pursuit tonight. If you play on my team, April, I might finally win!”

April turned to Brian, who was already walking away.

“You coming?” he said over his shoulder, heading straight to a slim girl standing against the bowling alley. Making sure April was watching, he leaned next to the girl’s ear.

She was wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, but April knew what was underneath: a string bikini and coconut oil.

The same strings were tied around the neck of a girl April sat next to on a crowded bus home from the beach one day. It was the closest April had ever been to those mysterious creatures who usually only swam by in blurs of tiny dresses and tanned skin, legs only covered by their sandal straps, arms only covered by a dusting of blonde hair. 

April didn’t know their arms even had hair until that girl on the bus. The girl who smelled like coconut, and made her feel like the girls in the locker room who laughed at her underwear — like she didn’t know how to be a girl anymore. 

That it didn’t matter now how fast she ran or how good her grades were. All that mattered was how cute she and her outfit looked. Because she wasn’t supposed climb trees or ride bikes anymore; was supposed to just stand around, making fun of girls like her.

April watched as the girl handed Brian cigarettes and lighter from her pocket. As Brian pulled one of the cigarettes out with his mouth, the look crawling over the girl’s face was a creature April never let out of its cage.

Brian looked at April as he lit his cigarette, then pulled the girl’s waist toward him to return the pack and lighter. When he unzipped her sweatshirt later, April knew he’d find skin that wanted to be touched, breasts that wanted him to untie those bikini strings.

So of course he was with her instead of April. Her breasts liked to stay hidden, and never smelled of coconut.

“C’mon,” Ashley said, pulling her arm. “If we hurry we can get some of the good chips!”

“OK, I’ll play with you on one condition: You get your mom to take us shopping before we go to the lake tomorrow.”

 

“Deal!” Ashley squealed. “But why? You don’t have to buy sunglasses, you can borrow mine.”

 

“I want to get a pair of these dorky flip-flops,” said April, deciding she was never taking a razor to her feet again.

Rejections: The New Yorker, The Atlantic, The Sun and The Paris Review