Nom de Plume

Well, I spent the morning at the dermatologist to try and do something about my rosacea…or what I thought was rosacea.

It turns out I have essential telangiectasia, which can be taken care of with laser treatments. I also, as suspected, have seborrheic dermatitis, and probably have livido reticularis.

The last explains something I’ve had since childhood. All over, my skin is blotchy–almost as though the pigmentation is uneven. It always has been, and it’s worse when it’s really cold or really hot.

Apparently, a lot of things can cause livido reticularis and essential telangiectasia, which means the doctor wanted to do some bloodwork to make sure nothing else is wrong. She said that signs point to it being just a skin thing. But naturally, being the hypochondriacc I am, this means I will be a nervous wreck for the two weeks it’ll take to get the results. So keep your fingers crossed.

Hello,
I just wanted to say thanks for your kind remarks re.
my novel, Celestial Jukebox a while back. The publicist at S&H pointed your site out to me. I am glad to hear it when someone likes the book. Anyway, your site is really interesting to me, and I think you write really well, too. Very intelligent, sharp writing. And the whole Sierra Leone angle is really interesting to me. I hope you are writing fiction…if you ever need help finding places to publish, please let me know. I might be able to help.

Cynthia Shearer
Fort Worth, Texas

I loved The Secret Garden. A Little Princess was my favorite book when I was nine. I guess I missed out on on this gem, though.

Which is probably good, as it would have scarred me for life.

link

War correspondent Saffron Roch escapes a fickle lover while stationed in Sierra Leone, and returns to California after she bears his child. Awaiting her is the legacy of the woman who raised her: a multi-million property that comes with serious strings attached. Ultimately, she is forced to choose between her new life and her old.

This was a stunning read for me, less for the story than for the reminders of Sierra Leone. Names that I haven’t thought about for years resurfaced: the Mammy Yoko hotel, King Jimmy Market…and with them came the realization that I miss the expat world. I am no longer part of it; I have become a true American. This knowledge saddens me. I miss that unreal life on the fringes.

My mother runs an art gallery out of her house; all the pictures on the wall have not-so-discreet price tags tacked to their frames. No one’s immune. She even sold Steve a tinga tinga painting when we visited her in Bucharest three and a half years ago–but insists that she gave him the “family price.” As she says, “I must deal to support my habit.”

She’s actually supporting her habit very well, despite a somewhat whacky pricing scheme. Essentially, the more she likes a picture, the higher she prices it to discourage people from plonking down the cash and spiriting away her favorites.

But I just got this e-mail:

Someone is interested in buying my Lenin portrait. I don’t think he had figured the price–$1125 and not a cent less and plus tax–so maybe I won’t lose it.

Yes, my mother has a portrait of Lenin, scavenged (if I remember correctly) from the Soviet cultural center in Sierra Leone after the fall of the Iron Curtain.

I just pre-ordered Harry Potter, which is scheduled to be released (and delivered, or so Amazon says) exactly one month from today.

(Well, for a couple hours.)

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Can you put two of my beers from the basement into the fridge?”

“Okay. By the way, my office smells like a brewery.”

“Really? That is so cool.”

Steve assures me that his beer is doing just fine. It is, according to him, normal for it to burble.

Now if we can just do something about the fact that my office smells like a brewery.