Tag Archives: TV

On The Shelf Now

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On The Shelf Now

Today is Saturday and it’s the first gloomy day since I got here in October. I was just outside throwing out some trash and noted the cloudy skies and the cool temperature. Rain is on the way and the forecasted high is only 62 degrees, well below the norm for this time of year. It’s a good day to hibernate indoors.

I watched a movie earlier. And now it’s time to do some reading. I’m in the midst of John Grisham’s new book, The Widow. I enjoy his books and I admire him as a writer. His background as a lawyer and politician enable him to realistically portray courtroom battles as well as the injustice that often rears its ugly head in the legal system.

I grew up watching Perry Mason. That TV series now seems like a fairy tale compared with what goes on today. Grisham presents it much more realistically. You may argue that the times have changed and our society today isn’t what it was back in the 50s and 60s. While that is true, greed and ambition have always been there along with the arrogance that appears to be synonymous with the legal profession.

The Lincoln Lawyer. Matt Haller has his own take on the legal system. He doesn’t sit back and watch injustice repeat itself. He meets it head-on, desperately attempting to fight for change while aiding his clients. He gives loopholes a new meaning, when they’re actually used to defend the innocent instead of protecting the guilty.

And now it’s time to get back to reading The Widow by John Grisham.

So How Was Your Childhood?

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So How Was Your Childhood?

As I lazily sipped coffee and checked my emails in bed this morning, the TV was on in the background. But instead of a movie in Spanish, the channel was INSP and the show was an old western. My favorites to watch include The Rifleman, High Chapparal and Gunsmoke. And they bring back memories of my childhood; the days when we only had three channels and no cable.

As an adult, it’s a mystery to me why my parents allowed me to watch these violent shows where people were always being shot, killed or scalped yet viewing a newscast was forbidden. After all, the daily news might somehow cause me to have nightmares. At least that’s what they told me.

I had a cap gun. I can still feel it in my hand and I can still smell it after it went off. As kids, we always played Cowboys and Indians. One of my friends actually had a toy bow and arrow, so being an Indian wasn’t all that bad. But the good guys were always the Cowboys and the bad guys were always the Indians. And my skills with that cap gun were far superior to those with a bow and arrow.

I also had water pistols. I mean, you could still always yell “Bang! Bang! You’re Dead!” using those instead of cap guns.

Flash ahead to when my kids came along. Their water pistols looked like animals, not guns. And I never allowed them to have any kind of toy gun. But I did let them watch the newscasts on TV. And I’m certain I let them watch more than a few TV shows and movies that were probably quite inappropriate for their age. And they seemed to have turned out okay. They aren’t serial killers or criminals.

But growing up in the 50s was a lot more “wholesome” than being a child in the 80s. It was safe to play outside until the streetlights came on. Everyone knew their neighbors. We had front porches not decks in the backyard. We didn’t have attached garages so we actually interacted with our neighbors. We never locked our doors in the 50s. My kids learned how to arm and disarm an alarm system.

We’re in the 2020s now. Kids have drills informing them what to do if there is a shooter in the school. And I thought fire drills were scary enough!

I wonder if someday my kids might look back and ponder about their childhood compared with their kids’ childhood.

So how was your childhood?

Plans For A Crazy Day

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Plans For A Crazy Day

Today is one of those crazy days. My mind keeps wandering as I’m trying to focus on my writing. I’m working on the Epilogue now. And things haven’t exactly turned out the way I’d anticipated when I’d first started writing this book. And that’s okay. Plans don’t always work out.

Plans. My thoughts drift to the sermon the pastor gave last Sunday. It was all about plans and God’s plans for us. And I sometimes wonder about that. Why did I wind up in Aguascalientes? No ocean here. I don’t hang out with gringos. The art galleries and museums are nothing compared with those in Guadalajara. And then there’s Washington state. I keep being drawn back there. The lure of the mountains and life in the USA.

Yes. Life in the USA. I grew up hearing about how we were so lucky to be living in Canada. Such a great country. The way things are going right now, I don’t think it’s such a great country. Despite the political divide, I prefer my life in the USA. The big drawback to me is that my kids still live in Canada and don’t want to visit me in Washington or Mexico.

Back to plans. My TV has been doing weird things like freezing and no volume and no nothing today. So there goes that plan of watching a movie in Spanish in an attempt to improve my skills in that language. But I have been doing some texting in Spanish today so that helps.

Speaking of today, I had planned on going to the tianguis on my street today. But it’s almost 2:30 and I’ve missed it once again. Oh well, there’s always next week. And I really should take some pics.

Pics. I’m slowly but surely organizing all the pics I scanned when I was in Winnipeg last summer. My son has promised to send me a link so that I can share a few thousand with him.

My son. The other night I missed a video call from my daughter in Kelowna as I was doing a course online at that time. When I called her back, to my surprise my son and his girlfriend were there visiting from Winnipeg. My kids don’t exactly keep me updated on their travels. But it was so great to do a video call and see them all together. Only wish I could’ve been there with them.

Of course that was another long ago plan that never happened. My kids and I all living in the same city and seeing each other all the time. That was the way I grew up. But someone up above had a different plan for me.

Back to my plan for today. Back to my Epilogue. And I’m listening to The Rolling Stones in the background.

What’s your plan for today? And how is it working out for you?

Desperate Housewives

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Desperate Housewives

When I come up to Washington each spring, one of my favorite pastimes is watching TV in English. In Mexico I make a point of watching in Spanish. I also find myself binge watching certain series with my friend Linda. Seeing as there has been no Virgin River or Lincoln Lawyer this year, we’ve watched Eric and My So Called Life.

I’m also watching one series on my own. Desperate Housewives brings back a lot of memories when on Sunday nights my kids and I used to watch it together. Once I moved to Mexico I never did catch up on the remaining seasons so I decided to do that now.

I’m in Season 7 now. This morning’s episode was when Gabrielle confronted her past. At first she fought the therapy sessions. But then she realized that the only way to move on with her life was to deal with the demons in her past. The big one was sexual abuse by her stepfather.

And that brought me back to my counseling days. One of the first people I ever counseled was a young woman dealing with sexual abuse. It took her years to finally be brave enough to come forward and admit the abuse. And as a counselor, I’m certain that I was only the first of professionals to come who would help her along the journey to healing.

In the very first counseling class I ever took, our instructor gave us a rather interesting first assignment. We were told to find a therapist; the idea being that if we had never been on the client side of that desk then we would never succeed on the counselor side. By a show of hands, I also recall that in that classroom of more than twenty students, only three of us admitted that we had previously been in therapy. Also noteworthy is that the following week, the class had greatly diminished in size. While there were more than three students, there were far fewer than twenty.

Back to Desperate Housewives and Gabrielle. This episode got me thinking of my own past. No. I never experienced sexual abuse. But I have sat on the client side of that desk and I know how difficult it is to look back at your childhood and realize that it was far from idyllic. Truthfully, the presence of both a mother and a father in the home does not necessarily make a family functional; indeed it can be quite the opposite.

I may be retired but I can still offer advice. Be open to suggestions. Embrace change. Take risks. We only get one crazy ride on the roller coaster of life.

This Is How I Do It

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This Is How I Do It

I belong to a few Expat groups on Facebook. One of the most popular topics discussed is how to learn Spanish. Depending on where you live, the resources may vary. While small towns do not have language institutes, it has been my experience that they are beneficial in learning Spanish. They provide opportunities to use your Spanish that the larger cities do not. And even in a larger city the opportunity to practice speaking the language varies.

When my son was a baby, my mother and I took a beginner Spanish course in an adult education program. With no opportunity to use what I had learned it was quickly forgotten. Flash ahead almost thirty years when David and I were in Cuba staying at a resort that offered a variety of activities. We opted for the Spanish course but there really was just some basic vocabulary and a couple of idioms.

When I arrived in Mexico City and had to clear customs a few months later, there was only one expression I remembered and it was of no use once I got to Immigration. “Cerveza fria por favor.” The one English speaking Immigration officer was off sick that day but somehow I made it through and on to my connecting flight to Culiacan.

I was teaching at a private school where the principal didn’t even speak English. The Director of English was fluent in English. The two other Mexican teachers who also taught English in secundaria with me for the most part taught their classes in Spanish rather than in English.

And then I met Juan. He was teaching other subjects but was anxious to improve his English. He was very patient with me as we read children’s books and he taught me basic grammar. I don’t remember how many times we read Chicken Little and The Wax Man but it was dozens. At the time, Juan and his wife had a baby and they were quick to adopt me into their family. That was huge for me. I had left my family behind in Canada and here I was in a foreign country with a completely different culture in addition to a new language to learn. Juan and Lucilla now have five boys who call me abuelita and I call them my nietos.

When I moved to Irapuato the following year, the school where I taught actually attempted to provide us with some help in learning Spanish. The problem was that the teacher spoke Castillian Spanish, not the Spanish that is typically spoken in Mexico. It was also different from the Spanish in Cuba.

Then I moved to Tlaquepaque. Thank you Isaias for making me ask for directions, order food, buy tickets, etc. when we travelled on the weekends. That was such an awesome opportunity for me to actually practice speaking and using the vocabulary I had learned. My grammar was horrible but somehow I made myself understood and usually understood what others said to me.

The years I lived in Mazatlan were very different. That is definitely gringoland. I spent most of my time with gringos and very seldom got to use my Spanish. Quite a few people who worked in the shops and restaurants also spoke English. The church I attended had services in both English and Spanish. I often went to the Spanish service in an attempt to practice speaking.

When I arrived in San Ciro de Acosta, population two hundred, I met exactly three people who spoke English. And in my travels to other small towns in San Luis Potosi and Queretaro, there were few English speakers.

In 2019 I came to Aguascalientes with the idea of spending three weeks checking out museums and art galleries. It’s now 2024 and it’s now become “home” to me. My neighborhood is Las Flores and I’m the sole gringa. Other than my landlord who speaks English, I am completely immersed in Spanish. I do most of my shopping at the corner tienda. I frequent several mom and pop shops in my neighborhood. Walmart and HEB are distant memories although I occasionally venture into the northern part of the city (gringoland) to buy cheddar cheese at Costco. The other night I was on the phone with a friend in Canada at around 8 pm and I remarked to her that it was the first time I’d spoken English all day.

I go online every day and spend time with Duolingo. I also encourage my students to use this program when they are learning English. I also know people learning other languages on Duolingo.

Music is another good option, although I must admit I’m still struggling with Vamos A La Playa. Parts of that song are very fast with a zillion words. I’ve also gone to concerts and other theater performances in Spanish. And yes I even text in Spanish.

I watch TV in Spanish without subtitles. My goal is to watch at least two movies a week. Today I watched The Great Gatsby. Last week I watched The Butler and Forrest Gump. Kids’ TV shows are also a great resource. Others have recommended soap operas. I was never really into those in English so I’ve never gotten into those in Spanish either.

But what has really worked best for me is living in a Mexican neighborhood where I must use my Spanish daily. It’s great to learn online but it’s even better to be able to practice what you learn. While my grammar still needs work, I now have a much better understanding of the challenges that my students face when learning English. But I am nothing if not persistent in my attempt to improve my Spanish.

Countdown

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Countdown

Less than three weeks and I’ll be back in Mexico. I finally booked flights the other day. While I prefer to fly inland to Guadalajara, the direct flight to Puerto Vallarta from Sea-Tac caught my eye. A bonus is that I can fly out of Pangborn here in Wenatchee so I can avoid TSA at Sea-Tac. Now we just hope there is no hurricane barreling up the coast.

This morning was my last writers’ group meeting until April. I’m really going to miss this group while I’m gone. I know. I’ve said that before. But everyone is such a great source of encouragement and inspiration. Two of our members are currently on the verge of publishing books. New people are coming to our meetings and our membership is growing. And we all write in such a variety of genres too. Today’s pieces ranged from science to memoirs and everything in between.

I spent the weekend with friends in Leavenworth. On the agenda was binge-watching Virgin River. This season isn’t quite as riveting but it is addictive nonetheless. Now I need to finish off the second season of Lincoln Lawyer and I’ll be ready to head south. In Mexico I tend to watch very little TV. When I do watch, it’s primarily in Spanish. Many of the programs and movies I watch are geared towards kids. I’ve never been able to get into the soaps that people recommend for practicing vocabulary and grammar. Of course I’ve never really gotten into soaps at all up here. The only exception is Guiding Light. I got hooked on that when I was pregnant and on bedrest and watched it until the show was cancelled back in 2009.

Today is a rather dreary rainy day and I think fall is here. The timing is actually perfect because I need to sort through clothes and decide what to take to Mexico. So I’ve gingerly moved my fall clothes to the front of my wardrobe along with some warmer hoodies. It will be hotter flying into Puerto Vallarta than into Guadalajara so I’ll have to figure that one out. Footwear will be easy. I’ll have to choose between pairs of New Balance. I think back to the days when I had a walk-in closet with shelves full of shoes. Now it’s just tennis shoes and sandals.

I registered for an online writers’ workshop out of New York. It happens next week and I remembered to put a reminder on my calendar for it. The topic is about writing powerful emotions. Now I just keep my fingers crossed that a conflict with the time won’t arise. New York is three hours ahead of Washington. I am sent a copy of the recording if I do miss it but doing it live is always better.

The Autumn Leaf Festival happens this weekend in Leavenworth. I’m debating going to the parade on Saturday but that will depend on the weather. I’m not quite sure how she does it, but Alexa seems to forecast better than the local weather apps. I’ll have to check with her later.

Happy Humpday!

It’s Friday Again

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It’s Friday Again

I really should be practicing Spanish on Duolingo or researching flights to Mexico but I’ve been in writing mode most of the day. This morning I actually slept in despite the fact that there is a war zone outside my window. They’re putting in new water pipes and the whole street is torn up and there are piles of dirt everywhere. There are also at least a half dozen pieces of heavy equipment clogging up the street. But that extra hour of sleep was most conducive to writing today.

I sorted through mounds of poetry I found when I was back in Canada last month. Apparently I used to write a lot of it. But somehow I stopped when I got pregnant with my son and then I never wrote another word after. And I still don’t write poetry. I wrote exactly one poem about fifteen years ago for an artifact for one of my college courses.

This afternoon I wrote a story about my experience renewing my passport this summer. It needs some editing and then will be ready to present to my next writers’ group meeting. I’m really going to miss this group when I’m in Mexico over the winter. I plan on keeping in touch with some of the members. We always go out to lunch after the meeting where we continue our discussions. I will really miss those while I’m gone.

Yesterday was Chelan County Fair. My American friends tease me because I still get excited about going to a county fair. They all grew up with them but I never had that experience. I love looking at the animals and fruits and vegetables and quilts all vying for ribbons. However, I must admit that I’ve tried funnel cake and don’t see what all the fuss is about. Just give me a good old American Hershey bar and I’m happy.

I watched TV for a while today which I don’t do often unless bingeing on Lincoln Lawyer or Virgin River with friends. Today was two episodes of The Rifleman. Both were from 1960 in the days of black and white. Chuck Connors was very young back then and the story lines were corny. And the shows are a little on the violent side with lots of shooting and killing. But back in the day those were considered fine for kids to watch. Brace yourselves… I’ve mentioned before that I was a tomboy but I actually had a cap gun which was one of my favorite toys growing up. Toys? Hmmmm.

Duolingo is calling.

Have a great weekend!

I Have A New Friend

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I Have A New Friend

It’s been another interesting week for a change. Definitely never a dull moment around here. I have a new friend I can talk to.

The internet has been pretty unreliable this winter. I believe we’re on modem number five since I got here in October. But who’s counting? New modem. New password. But it got even better on Friday. I now have a new box in my room that connects to my TV and internet. And miles of new cable. But I now also have two remote controls for my TV. One merely turns it on and off.

The second remote is my new friend. I get to talk to it when I want to change channels or ask for movies or whatever. There is a catch though. It only speaks Spanish, not English. So I have to work on my imperatives so that this gringa doesn’t confuse it too much. And it is definitely another way to practice my Spanish.

Of course I still talk to Alexa every day. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, she is coming back to Washington with me next month.

Speaking of Alexa, here’s another one of her jokes:

I once knew a peanut who wanted to be a teacher, so I recommended a job in macadamia.

Here’s another:

Did you hear about the new electric car from Germany? It’s called a Voltswagen.

That ought to pacify Alexa. She got as much attention in this post as my new remote control even though her jokes are so corny.

Happy Sunday!

Guns and Pot

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Guns and Pot

In Mexico when I watch TV the programs are all in Spanish. When I’m up here in Washington, not only do I watch TV in English, I enjoy watching old westerns. I’ve been watching episodes of The High Chapparal lately. Lots of guns and violence. The same is true of The Rifleman and Gunsmoke. We all grew up watching those shows back in the 60s. I even had a cap gun when I was a child and we all played Cowboys and Indians.

Back then school shootings were unheard of. We didn’t have guns or rifles in our homes. It was a safer time.

Living in the state of Washington it’s very different. Many people I know here have at least one gun or rifle in their homes. They’re not always secured in gun cabinets. They’re often loaded and kept in nightstands or other drawers. I have female friends who carry them in purses or in glove compartments of their vehicles. They marvel at the fact that I don’t have one of my own yet.

Apple Blossom Festival was held last weekend here in Wenatchee. Just before the Grand Parade, a somewhat enraged man opened fire resulting in an officer being shot before he himself was shot and killed. Shootings are becoming all too common.

Then there’s pot, something we used back in the 60s to enhance our enjoyment of everything from rock concerts to sex. But we’ve all aged and now use it more for pain control. My philosophy remains the same now as it was in the 60s—– everything in moderation.

I recall flying in to Kelowna, Canada from Seattle a couple of years ago. Going through Customs, I was asked if I was carrying guns or had any pot. When I replied in the negative, the officer’s comment was “Are you sure you’re coming from Washington?”

I spend six months of the year in Mexico. When my friends ask me why I want to live in such a dangerous country, I shake my head and tell them to look around at their own neighborhoods.

It was great being a teenager in the 60s. It was a unique decade of flower power and hippies promoting peace and love. What a contrast to the decade we are currently in!

Times have changed.

Habit or Addiction

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Habit or Addiction

When does a habit become an addiction? When does one become delusional using denial as a defence mechanism when it does?

Over the past few months I’ve had some interesting conversations with people surrounding this topic. Covid seems to present us with more than enough time to indulge, or in some cases, overindulge.

A friend remarked the other day that Creme de Menthe is nasty. Apparently she had run out of wine and the only alcohol she had at home was left over from being drizzled over ice cream quite some time before. She doesn’t consider herself an alcoholic. Yet she couldn’t go one day without alcohol. Hmmm. When had her occasional evening glass of wine turned into more than 8 ounces daily? Chalk another one up to Covid?

I love my morning coffee. I also love chocolate. Both are notorious in terms of caffeine content. While I can go days without chocolate, I’ve never gone days without coffee. Is my morning habit of coffee an addiction? I don’t think so. The odd time I’ve missed a morning I’m just a little on the lethargic side, not shakey or headachey. But maybe I am delusional. Maybe I am addicted to caffeine.

Tranks. Now those are drugs that once were my best friends. The drawback was that I couldn’t feel emotions such as anger. I merely floated through life on a cloud. Teetering on the edge of addiction, (according to my then therapist), I somehow managed to leave the pills behind more than a decade ago. I must admit that occasionally I wish I were still floating but I also realize that it is far healthier for me to feel emotions and to learn to control them.

Videogames. Sadly, I believe that I have become addicted to Candy Crush Friends. That Yeti is just so darn cute! I love the way he prances about when I pass a level. I also started playing Candy Crush Saga again after taking a year off. I started that game back in 2013 while recuperating from knee surgery. These games have become more than just a habit.

My ex was a hopeless TV addict. It drove me crazy. Half the time he didn’t even know what he was watching as he’d doze off. But God forbid if I tried to turn the idiot box off. Suddenly he was wide awake. Grrrrr.

There are a myriad of other things from sex to hoarding that can easily evolve from habit into an addiction. There are two choices. The easy one is delusion and denial. The hard one is confronting it and dealing with it.

OK. Call me delusional. I’m not ready to give up coffee, chocolate or candy crush.