Are We All Charlie? Writing Rankly and Frankly...

A blogger I've read for a couple of years, one with a huge following, has decided to write infrequently, eliminate the Comments Box, and not write about her relationships with her children and husband.

Bore, bore, bore.

Yesterday she wrote that if she were told she had only a year left to live, she wouldn't spend the time taking cruises (oh, fine!), but she'd pray much of the time so she could experience a deeper relationship with God.

 What, no cruises?

We are clearly not on the same page.

I'm always telling myself I have only one year to live, just to see if that gooses me into embracing scary things that I'd really like to do, and also more mundane things like getting the bathroom remodeled (check!) and seeing the Eiffel Tower lit up (next summer, if my courage holds up).   I also have this idea that I'd be more forthcoming about what I really think, so I'll start right now:

First of all, "Je ne suis PAS Charlie"!  Americans are not Charlie, although we do believe in freedom of expression, and of course no one should be killed for saying what they think.  But Charlie Hebdo is a uniquely French tradition, and their cartoons can be savage (I have a feeling their cartoons about feminism would really piss me off).

As Adam Gopnik wrote in the current New Yorker, "...it [Charlie Hebdo] kept alive the nineteenth-century style of direct, high-spirited, and extremely outrageous caricature..."  He writes, "The magazine was offensive to Jews, offensive to Muslims, offensive to Catholics, offensive to feminists..." 

Which brings up my next point:  I have to admit I'm squeamish about poking highly irreverent fun at things other people hold dear.  I know--I'm being politically incorrect about being politically incorrect. But I'm not French, and I'm definitely not Charlie.  (Maybe if I told myself I have only a year to live?)

On a more personal note:  This week Jerry and I went to see his cardiologist with questions about his exercise stress test in September and the doctor's subsequent urging that he have a procedure to remove plaque from an artery.

 This is what an Exercise Myocardial Perfusion Study looks like

Oh, how we boned up for this week's appointment!  Much reading online, trying to figure out what a "hemodynamically significant coronary artery stenosis" is, wondering what the risk of the procedure would be.  Long list of questions.

All for naught.  Now the doctor thinks that with no symptoms, there's no need for the procedure.  Jerry should just keep exercising and taking a statin.  Next week we go to Stanford for another consultation.  I hope the message is the same.  A relief, but there's still that old devil, mortality, hanging out in his cave.

Quilting:  Not doing much.  All attempts seem to stall at the moment, but I'm loving my new fabric drawers. 

New drawers in my studio closet

The remodeled bathroom is presenting numerous tart-up opportunities:

Found these objets in a cupboard and transported them to the bathroom.  Jerry picked them up and asked what they were for.  He does not watch HGTV.

Inverness lavender potpourri supplied by Elisabeth Ptak

One of these days, I'll post pictures of the entire bathroom, by which time I guarantee you won't care.

And finally, me finding out the contractor won't be here today (he's repairing some leaky windows):

 Avec reading glasses and slapped back hair--frankly, rankly* me

*Lifted from Adam Gopnik's New Yorker piece