THE BOOK

 Finally!

My book, "NOT THREE, NOT FOUR - a memoir of an immigrant", is being published, by Amazon.

Alas, I had no idea how very complicated self-publishing is.

My first printing turned out to be far less than satisfactory, to say the least. I am happy with the cover to a certain extent, but I was disappointed with the layout in many ways. 

First of all, I did not know that I had to set the shade of the lightness or the darkness of the print.    

Then, I did not know that the margins that shows on what I typed on the computer do not look the same when it is printed as a book. There is a lot of Math involved.

As a matter of fact, a million "things" are involved.

HELP!

My computer Whiz of a son-in-law and my grand-daughter are giving me a Big Hand. We will have Remedies!

Bear with me.

The second print is on its way. 

THE ALBUM III

 
The Asian Paintings expert came with the young man.

He looked more like a by-gone hippie than a representative of the Auction House. "D'ont judge the book by its cover. Keep an open mind," I said to myself.

He seemed excited, and promised to market The Album in Asia and so on. We eventually agreed on the terms of the sale and signed a contract. He kept saying, "Isn't it exciting?" Then, he and the young man left with my Album.

So I waited patiently. Weeks went by. 

A beautiful catalogue came in the mail. My Album of paintings was featured in the catalogue. It looked quite impressive. I was pleased.

The Auction Day finally came. I watched the Auction online for hours. Unfortunately, The Album did not sell.

The Expert asked me to give him some time so he could try to sell the Album after the Auction. So I said, "Okey."

Days went by. No news.

More time went by. I called and asked him to return my Album to me. And I have not gotten it back yet. Do I need a lawyer?

After many requests from me and my daughter, the Asian art expert finally said that he would have someone hand-deliver the Album back to me. So far, I have not gotten the Album back yet. 

So much for the Saga of The Album.

I guess Grand-grand pa did not want the Album to go back to the Far East.

Stay-tuned.

AT THE CONSERVATORY

In the meantime, at the Conservatory where I live, life goes on as usual, after a fashion.

We have had many changes - staff members came and went. Residents moved away or passed away. Life, however, goes on.

Since I came here, we have had no few than five Directors, numerous different housekeepers, many different maintenance crew, four or five chefs (including a super-duper soup chef whom we all loved).

We survived the covid academic, and had covid cases every now and then, for a while. We are okey now. 

The weather had been strange, too. 

Now, we are in the south, right? We did not have extreme cold weather in the former years. No frozen pipes to worry about. No busting-pipes either. But now, we certainly do. Freeze, severe  thunderstorms, tornados even . . .

However, the salespeople have been doing a good job in securing new residents. The only big difference is that it seems a lot of the new residents need much more care, health wise. There are more walkers and more motorized carts (some of their owners don't seem to realize that the speed limit is not the same in the hallways as on the highways.)

I am not kidding you. One of the residents was ran over by one of those carts a few months ago. Her leg has not been the same since.

I think I am here to stay for a while. It is much too much trouble moving. Right?

I am of the opinion, Life is what you make of it. 

Make your surroundings as pleasant as possible. It is up to you. You are in charge, We are not prisoners. Unless you allow us to be.

  

 

THE ALBUM II

The phone rang on the other end of the line.

 After a few rings, a lady's voice came on.

I introduced myself and told her that I saw the ad, and I have something that might be of interest to her. I described the paintings to her and so on.

She said, "Take pictures, and send them to me."

I went on to say that I thought the paintings were quite old and beautiul  . . .

She said, "Take picures."

I started to tell her what I could translate from the writings . . 

She said, "Take pictures."

I said that she might like to see them . . .

She said, "Take pictures."

So I said, "Okay."

Now, I am not a photographer, but I do take pictures with my cell-phone. So, I set the paintings down on a white background and start "shooting". The light was not too great. The pictures did not turn out to be what I liked. I, however, sent them to her - via my phone.

I told my daughter, Melinda, about it. She thought my pictures were not good enough, and took it upon herself to take pictures of the paintings with her better phone. We bother agreed that the lady needs to see the paintings in person.

I guess our "nagging" kind of got to her, and to pacify us, she agreed to send someone to my apartment a few days later.

In the meantime, my other daughter, told me that the film covering the camera-eye of my phone, which I have had for a few years, had not been taken off. The film was old and wrinkled. She did not understand that I could have been taking pictures with the wrinkled film cover on the camera-eye all these years. Well, what do you expect from this 94-year-old ??? There were NO instructions . . .

"Any how" (as they say in the South), a nice tall and lanky young man came to my apartment, a few days later. He introduced himself to me, and handed me a business card. He said very little, but he did TAKE PICTURES. One after the other, together with my amateur translations of whatever I could made of the calligraphy.

I showed him some other paintings and he dully took pictures of all of them. Then he left.

SIMPLIFY YOUR LIFE - DECLUTER

Have I not been telling my contemporaries about simplifying our lives at our age? Yet, I am guilty of "hoarding" myself. 

Although I have a two-bedroom apartment, with two fairly good-sized closets, and a small closet in the hallway to boot. I have enough "stuff" to fill all three closets. And the cabinets . . .

It is time to do something about all the "stuff" sitting there.

Even if I live to be a hundred-and-ten, do I really, really need some of the "stuff"?

I have clothing that are several decades old and not been worn for more than a decade or so; things that I bought years ago that I thought I needed; art supplies to last me for another lifetime; table linens that have not seen the daylight since I moved here . . . 

Time to declutter, to simplify, and to let go.

And yet, I am making "stuff" everyday. I paint, I make "things" . . .

What to do? What to do?

I finally decided to brace myself and go through my "things".

Didn't I advice others to  - 

  Give it away,

  Throw it out.

  or, Sell it.

So I should take my own advice.

THE ALBUM

It has been more than three years since my cancer surgery. 

I am doing as well as can be expected, I suppose. Though everyone kept saying that I was doing wonderfully. 

I am deformed. I cannot seem to gain any weight. I have trouble eating . . .

On the other hand, 

I am alive. I can get around on my own, with the help of a walker, if I have to walk far. I have my pains and aches, my allergy, and a few other little problems. I, sometime, have small memory lapses - not too major. I make little notes to remind myself of anything that I needed to remember,

On the plus side, I can still read without wearing glasses. I can still paint. I can still do a little jewelry-making. And play some card games with my friends at the Conservatory.

Where I live, there are a number of people who have far more serious health issues than this 94-year old woman.

So, I said to myself, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start living."

Cleaning out the closets is one of the things that I needed to do. So here goes - get rid of the stuff and clothes that I have not used for the last few years . . .  I do hang on to most of my artworks, done by me or by someone-else. 

There were some of the things I have forgotten that I had . . .

Then, one day, I saw an Ad in the paper - a fairly large colored one - with a green jade bottle perched on a teak stand, a white jade bowl, resembling a flower, a tall cloisonne enamel vase, all sitting on a rosewood? table, against a painting of branches of red persimmon fruits. The large dark-green leaves made the fruits redder even.

"Bring your Chinese Art to us

 We'll sell it to the world"

Call . . . 

I thought to myself, may be the third time is charm.

I have some nice Chinese paintings and some objects of art. Amongst them, an album of 8 Chinese ink paintings on gold paper, done a long time ago.

The first time, many years ago, I wrote to a famous auction house, offering the album of paintings to sell. They never answered my letter.

The second time, my second daughter and her patient husband took me and the Album to the Antique Road Show in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The specialist looked at it, and said that it may be worth three or four thousand dollars. I disagreed. The paintings were exquisite and I liked them. Besides, they were close to 300-year-old. I can read the Chinese wording, names and dates and the stories told. 

So, the album went into the closet and then it came with me to the senior-living place when I moved here over six-years ago. It stayed in the closet all this time. 

Since the children did not want it, may be I should sell it. Let someone else enjoy it. 

Is it time to sell it?

I waited and pondered the thought for a few days. Then I picked up the phone and called the number in the ad.