The Boston Bombing

We watched part of the marathon and then the Red Sox game on television.  Turned the TV  off to be a little more productive, then mid-afternoon Significant Other turned it on again.  The news was bad and then it got worse.  And worse still.  Every time I check it more children missing legs, children killed, a horror show.

We used to watch the marathon runners come through Wellesley at the half-way mark.  You could hear the girls from Wellesley College urging the runners on half a mile away.  Very thrilling to see the wheelchairs zipping by, then the whole pack in the old days.  Scrawny and hefty (yes, there were those), Bony and cushioned, muscular and stick-like, the runners pounded down Central Street   by the thousands, a riveting sight.  People we had seen training in the dark and snow of winter, the slush of early spring, running, running, running.

Of course there were always a few show offs who weren't running but wanted everyone to think they were.  One year my boss trained and trained and ran the race only to  give up  in Natick.  We were all crushed.  He was always so disciplined. It's a hard race,  up those hills that break your heart.

Me?  I smoked so much that I never had the wind to run or swim, even after I stopped smoking.  Envied those who did.    But I cheered on the runners from Wellesley or from home.  Never from Boylston Street with its crowds,  and general chaos.  We attend the Boston Book Festival in that neighborhood, which also has its crowds, this being Boston.  Will I go to the festival this fall?  Not sure.  Probably will.  I flew in a mostly empty U.S. airplane during the Gulf War.  I traveled twice by plane shortly after 9/11.  So I'll probably go to the book festival.

Boston is the city where two of the 9/11 planes departed, and we lost a lot of good people and we don't take terrorism lightly.  I suspect a lot of citizens are having recurrences of PTSD.  I heard that there were some trainees in the medical tent, preparing for a day of dehydrated runners, chilled runners, blisters, maybe even chest pains.  They got more than they could ever have anticipated.  Hope they're O.K.

And as usual the first responders (lots of them on the scene) ran toward the explosions rather than away.  Lots of brave cops and BAA people who rushed  to help the wounded.  Ordinary citiznes, military, everyone trying to help.  They should be proud of themselves.  

So the day after Marathon Monday, is it Traumatized Tuesday?  Yes, and then some. 

I keep asking myself what kind of coward sets off a bomb when the street is full of children, women, and non-combatants if you will?  He didn't even have the courage to blow himself up.  Now we know what the people in Iraq, Syria, Pakistan and Afghanistan live with almost daily.

We live in a crazy world.  

                                                                                               

Blogging Along

Cripes, I haven't posted to this blog in a long time. I've been on Twitter (Judyinboston) and my other two blogs. Life's bits and pieces: cleaning, cooking, gardening, and oh yes, writing. Washing, ironing, shopping, stuff. I gave a speech at my Toastmaster's Club about my adventures on a big corporate re-engineering committee in the mid-90's. Ah, the memories. I was associated with the "old legacy system." Might as well have been the dung heap.

Announcement: could be the economy is looking up. We trekked to the Wrentham (Discount) Mall on Sunday for chocolate and moisturizer, and there was a huge crowd. Big line to get into the mall. Parking lot crammed. Lots of people with shopping bags. The stores looked busy, as opposed to Nordstrom's a week earlier and the mattress store on Saturday. Big sale and the store was empty.

So we did our bit, spending the tax refund and the dribs and drabs of money which have come ouf way. I bought a used Apple. A backup drive for said Apple. A keyboard and a mouse. Remember a song from college:

My father makes book on the corner
My mother sells second hand gin
My sister makes love for a dollar
My god, how the money rolls in.

In this case, it rolled out. So . . . .

I'm appearing at the hair dresser's this week for the first time in six months. Long, two-toned hair. The occasion is Edgar's Week next week in NYC. I even have something to wear because I didn't go last year and can therefore wear what I would have worn last year, had I went. Yanno.

Cringing at the idea of the agents and editors cocktail party. How many years? May flog Significant Other's memoir. How would that be? On the other hand, I haven't pushed Festival Madness at this event. F.M. hasn't set the world on fire. In fact, no one has asked for the full ms. And I was so sure. Idea for rewrite, but it will be a lot of work. New beginning. We all need new beginnings. Apropos sucking it up and all that humiliating stuff, there was an interesting post on "when do you know when to quit?" today. I guess you don't. Because around the corner may lurk the agent or editor who believes in you. http://www.murderati.com/blog/2009/4/19/how-do-you-know-when-to-quit.html

Today is Patriot's Day in Boston and a holiday. They ran the Marathon today. We used to live in Wellesley and walk down to the center of town to cheer the runner's on. Wellesley College woman always scream their lungs out. The Red Sox won big time.

I have to confess a total addiction to In Treatment. What a great show. HBO rocks. Worth every dime. And The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency is growing on me every week. It's so nice so see a show about Africa with people going about normal everyday lives, eating out, with schools and homes and occupations. This is a new glimpse into the Dark Continent with no war, rebellion, refugee camps, 13 year old soldiers--well, you know. No Somali pirates.

My robot fish story with the Somali pirates is soooo topical. Now, will it be published?

The kitchen counter is full of seedlings. They are so cute! We have daffodils and forsythia blooming, finally. (not in the kitchen!) Itsy-bitsy leaves on bushes. Very heartening. Something blooming in the slough. Haven't seen the ducks lately.

I'm reading a hilarious book by David Lodge, Therapy. Kind of oppostite In Treatment.

So it goes. A friend sent some fab tango music and we've been listening to that. Rented Frieda from Netflix and liked it.

That's all.

Grapeshot