A BROAD IN TRAFFIC: AND OTHER RANTS

It started out to be such a lovely getaway. Spending a few days at Carlsbad with old friends (well, long-time friends) was the plan, then on to my son’s in Laguna Hills for a Thanksgiving Feast with the whole family. Somehow, traffic got in the way of a great experience.

Where do all these people come from? I know, I know, I’m one of them, but still. I can remember the days when I’d drive the 91 and the 5 freeways and get irritated if there were more than one car per lane. Now, there are a gazillion cars in every lane, some even having the temerity to drive down the “break-down” lanes (on both sides!).

Because I’m always where I should be on any particular holiday, I didn’t realize that everyone else had to drive on THAT day. I left the beach at 11 a.m. and arrived at my sons at 2:30 p.m., three-and-a-half hours later; a drive that normally takes one hour and fifteen minutes, at best.

I normally only listen to music as I drive, but after an hour I decided to listen to the news, sure that the world had changed in many ways while I was driving in Limbo. I now know I can go without the news for a year. I know every bit of lies, truth stretches, and downright stupidity that goes on in the world.

Stupid NEWS RELEASE: LEAD IN:“Tiger Woods seriously injured in car accident.” Then: FOLLOW-UP: “After being seen at the emergency room, he was released in good condition.” Excuse me? You just said “seriously injured” and now this?

Tim Conway Jr. on KFI was recapping the day’s news. He said this had to be a press release from Tiger's Manager, and that all managers lie. So, can we expect that Tiger is laid up somewhere in a body cast? Then: “Police say ‘alcohol’ was not indicated as cause of the accident.” Tim said: “Manager again. Lies!” But they did not say: “Drugs” were not indicated….so take your best guess.


And what’s the deal with Tiger, anyway? He’s crashed into a fire hydrant and then into a tree or fence, or whatever he supposedly crashed into at 2:30 IN THE MORNING? What’s a married man and father doing out at 2:30 in the morning crashing into fire hydrants? Why wasn’t he in bed in his lavish Florida estate, with his beautiful model wife wrapped around him, his babies down the hall secure in the fact that Daddy is protecting them from the boogey-man.

The next day I read that his wife broke a window with a “club” to free him. A CLUB? 4-wood? Driver? Pitching wedge? Where did she get it? Evidently the car was locked, so if she broke a window with a "club" she would have had to run back into the house to grab one: If so, why didn’t she just call 911 instead of looking for a golf club? Could she possibly have opened his lip with a 4-iron because he got home so late? Or, were they fighting? Maybe she picked up a club as he ran for the car, jumped in, gunned the engine to get the hell out of dodge, then slammed into the hydrant? Then before he could recover, she clonked his punkin' head the club. Oh, to be a fly on the wall…er, the Cadillac!

STUPID NEWS RELEASE: LEAD IN: Uninvited couple gets into White House State Dinner without invitation.” Then: FOLLOW-UP: “An uninvited couple crash the White House State Dinner and have their picture taken with top politicians, including the President of the United States.” The Secret Service said: “Someone dropped the ball.” Oh my, this sounds like something you’d see watching the Pink Panther movies, as Inspector Clouseau stumbles into and out of trouble in his search for the bad guys.

Do I wonder how that could have happened? Well, no. Because I’m still amazed how a certain president could engage in “It” with a young page in the Oval Office and not be impeached. By the way, it wasn’t his “private life in the Oval Office” as some people suggested; it is “The People’s” White House, which means he was doing the dirty-deed in MY Oval Office!

Oh, well, that’s history. But, this event at the White House was hilarious. Those Secret Service agents need to toughen up, maybe take some lessons from the NTS guys at the airport. Not only do they look at me as if I’m Osama’s wife, but they search my carry-on and find a five-inch flexible emery board. “Hold on there, Misses Ben-Laden, you can’t board the plane with a weapon.” I have to admit that I do sort of look like a terrorist: red hair, 5’5”, sun-weathered skin, Lens-Crafter specialty glasses, and carrying a wooden nail file to fix any breaks in my gel-filled nails. But this “weapon” breaks when using it on my nails, how many people could I flatten with it?

Okay, I’ve had my rant. Life is always amusing. It just takes a few days to realize it.

SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OF ISFAHAN, IRAN

Some of the things I write about in my book: A Broad Abroad in Iran: One Strappy-Sandaled Foot Ahead of the Mullahs, are in this beautiful video that I found on youtube. As you read the book, these sights will come to life.



Persians say that their beautiful city of Isfahan is “half the world.” The 17th-century capital of the Safavids, Isfahan. Incredible bridges can be seen along with the world's biggest square: Naghsh-é Jahan, which was also built in the 17th century in the center of the city. The enormous open plaza is framed by a wall of arches and surrounded by two of the world's greatest mosques; The 17th century Masjed-é Sheikh Lotfollah and the Masjed-é Emam, or Shah, one of the most amazing sites in Iran. Both mosques are of magnificent architecture and covered in brilliant colors of ancient mosaic tiles.

I was so excited to find this video on youtube. It's been since the late 70s, at the start of the revolution, when last I saw these beautiful sights. Living in Isfahan during that period was both exciting and terrifying. I hope you enjoy the video.

Please feel free to leave me a "comment" on this blog, about your experiences in Iran; as an expatriate, or as an Iranian.Or, you can go to my website: www.dodiecross.com/Iran and click on "contact."

WRITERS BLOG FOR THE GEEZER GENERATION

Attention Writers of the Geezer Generation!

The Internet? Of course, who doesn’t know about the World Wide Web of Wonder?

I just returned from a wonderful Pen Women’s Luncheon. The guest speaker was Denise Welch, President of NewMediaID, who spoke on the benefits of using social media tools in today’s marketing world. Of course, unless you’ve been living in a cave, you already know what the internet can do. Don’t you? I thought I did. But, wow, what I didn’t know about marketing would fill Wikipedia’s web-space.

How I wish I’d grown up in this techy age like my grandkids instead of in the 50s, when the most exciting thing for us to talk about was the newest Elvis recording. Don’t get me wrong, the 50s were the most idyllic decade since the invention of Preparation H. We didn’t have air conditioning or seat belts, or Iphones or PDAs, but we had a close connection with friends and family because we didn’t’ always have something crammed against our ear or keyboards at our fingertips…we did something more amazing: we talked face-to-face!

Which is something our prodigy can’t seem to do! Okay, so they can figure out the lift system of the Delta II rocket, but can they talk anymore? Why is it that when you call your grandkids you get: Uh-huh; nothin’; nope, cool, okay; yeah; bye. But watch them text and you think they’re writing the Magna Carte.

So, I guess if you want to communicate with the kidlets, you need to learn to twitter, text and all those techy things, but please don’t use the shorthand stuff: How I hate that stuff. I swear, none of them will know how to write a letter, or even a story, without TX, LOL, BTW and BFF.

So as life moves inexorably forward, we of the Geezer Generation need to move with it or get flattened by some new techy machine, or, hear your little snot-nosed, four-year-old grandkid say: “Grandma, here, let me do it. I’ll show you how.” I could just slap ‘em.

Okay, back to what I learned today: After all the “pay-for” marketing I’ve done, that it’s really all about Google and getting your key-words out there, blog like crazy, getting hits, and keeping current on your website, or “landing-page” as it’s now called by the techy generation.

So, let’s get with it, Geezers. Learn all you can while your brain still has some cells moving around, albeit on walkers. Put down the knitting, the quilting, and get off the rocker and get the word out about your great works. Just Do It:
Internet Market!

Anyone want to share how they made a difference in their sales on Internet Marketing?

SEEING IRAN WITH A CLOUDED LENS

I’ve left the beautiful shores of Hawaii and returned to the real world. Well, real in the sense that I need to fly up to Washington State, take care of an ailing hubby, finish my Iran book, and try to find an agent/publisher who’s excited about this timely memoir.

I noticed on the flight home that I was having trouble reading my Kindle. I had it up to the largest font and still it was difficult. I had on my glasses, a light above me, and still it was difficult. My seat-mate seemed a little nervous as I leaned his way to get some light from the window. “Care to change seats?” he asked. Not really, I told him, I’d just take my eyes with me.

I was now more than concerned. What if the retina had grown another membrane since surgery? The doc did say it could return; in a week, in a month, or in a year, or…never.

On my last visit to the retina surgeon, I was 20/25, without correction. Now, wearing my cutesy Versace glasses, I am only at 20/40 and barely eking out the consonants. The vowels usually come easier because they’re more obvious, especially the As, Es, and Os.

I saw an ophthalmologist before I flew to Washington, who told me that there was a small membrane behind my new lens that was clouding up, and that it could be taken care of very easily. It was uncommon, he said, but it did happen, and with a YAG laser procedure they could zap it, put a hole in the membrane and it would clear up the opacification. Fine! How many more “uncommon” problems am I going to have with this body of mine?

Since I’ve returned from Hawaii, I’ve written about fifty more pages in my Iran book, but it’s been difficult. When I use my glasses, I have to lean back and it’s uncomfortable. When I take my glasses off, I have to sit with my nose touching the monitor, then lean back and try to read it.

I made an appointment to have this taken care of here in Washington, but when the ophthalmologist examined me, he felt it was too soon after the retinal surgery to be probing around in my eye, and suggested I wait about a month, which shouldn’t change things, he said.

Now I’m at my computer, dredging up all my memories of life in Iran, and need Windex to clean the nose prints off my monitor. However, the book is moving right along, my poor vision has not altered my memory’s vision, so here I go.

You can check the progress of my book: A Broad Abroad in Iran: One Strappy-Sandaled Foot Ahead of the Mullahs (during the revolution) on my website at dodiecross.com as I add a few chapters to whet your appetite. Click on the bottom of the page where it lists the book.

GOODBYE HAWAII, HELLO MAINLAND

Today is my last day in Paradise; leaving tomorrow for home. It does feel different in this small island. You forget that somewhere out there beyond your vision is an immense body of water, which reduces you to just a small blip on the island.

This is truly a multicultural blend of people; Hawaiians, Filipinos, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, Tongan, Cambodian, Micronesian, Portuguese, a smattering of Hispanics and about 20% Caucasian. Intermarriages over the years have changed the appearance of pure-bloods, and the result is what I term exotic-looking. The men, handsome with their huge Schwarzenegger builds; the women, with their dark almond eyes, long shiny black hair and itty-bitty bodies: I hate 'em. Not really, but they do make me feel like I'm just one Big-Mac away away a heart attack.

We toured the island, ate in quaint little towns, sat on the beach at Waikiki in close proximity to the overt over-eating tourists, making us appear downright svelte.

I will miss noshing on the pork hash and the Leonard's malasada, (original if you please) hot out of the oven and filled with custard that are part of the native fare. I only consumed these delicacies to show the islanders that I cared!

I sadly say goodbye to my host, Lola, my wonderful friend and school chum (since the sixth grade), her handsome son, Paco, and his gorgeous girlfriend, Huyen.

Tomorrow I leave here, back to the land of the over-eaters and I shall miss this land.

Aloha!

THE HAWAII MUSE

I’ve been in Hawaii eleven days and I’ve written more in my upcoming Iran memoir than I’ve done in two years.

I don’t understand where the muse goes, why she goes, or why she returns, but return she did and I am so pleased I shant ask any questions.

Every morning my inner clock wakes me at 5 a.m. and I hit the floor ready and excited to get to my computer. A cup of coffee to get the eyes open, place fingers to keyboard and look out at the beautiful Manoa Valley from my view on the fourteenth floor. It’s as though the view is subliminal, causing my fingers to take on a life of their own.

Thoughts of the revolution and the one-and-a-half years I lived in Isfahan, Iran, come flowing forth, sometimes faster than my fingers can keep up with them.

“Whoa!” I say. Wait for me. Then…oh yeah! I remember that, and I’m off, watching my fingers fly over the keyboard while reliving things that happened during the Islamic revolution, thirty-two years ago.

Something bizarre happens when you write a memoir. Your subconscious mind takes you back to the events as if you were living them at the moment. I see myself walking through the Bazaar, haggling with merchants; soaring down a river in a raft while irate men throw stones at me; driving through the beautiful countryside, drinking from an ice-cold stream as it rushes down shimmering rocks from the snow-covered mountains above; watching the mammoth tanks roll into town when martial law was ordered by the Shah.

Well, as you can see, I have much work to do. So, now it’s time to get back to my memoir.

THANKS TO THE SEA BIRDS

It’s 9 a.m. Hawaiian time, 6 a.m. Pacific time, and I find myself sitting on the lanai of a friend’s condo in Oahu.

I can’t sleep. My body’s on Pacific time so I must get up. I stagger to the kitchen, make a pot of coffee, then I look up and out. What an incredible view.
Her unit is on the fourteenth floor of a thirty-five story building, and the view is breathtaking.

I grab a cup of coffee, my laptop and head for the lanai. The view is of massive green mountains, partially obscured by dense, bloated clouds, black on the bottom, rising to white cumulus, thinning into oblivion as wisps of filigreed lace, and all ringed in a dazzling gold by the sun’s fierce glow behind them.

Towering high-rises sit plump and regal amidst Banyon, Mangos and Fan Palm trees, while tiny roads thread their way through the city to the suburbs and beyond.

Delicious aromas of plumeria, antherium and gardenia float on the tropical breezes bringing a soothing balm to all.

I close my eyes and visualize what this island looked like before it was covered with concrete, wood, glass and asphalt.

What spark of life led this heretofore lava mountain to come to life. Geologists say that after eons of volcanic eruptions in the seabed, the first and largest volcano reared its head from the ocean and looked about. Novelist James Michener credits a tired sea bird who deposited the beginnings of the flora and fauna of this verdant island. I imagine that after a long flight from some far-off place, the little sea bird came upon a wondrous site; somewhere to perch and gain strength to fly on.

After depositing the remnants of his last meal onto the bare lava, he blithely set out again as his DNA required. And from that one small offering, to what I see before me, I’d like to thank that little sea bird as I sit here and marvel at the wonder of nature and creation.