Adrift at Sea

When I first started working on a cruise ship in 1982, I heard a joke from one of the crew. "What's the difference between a prison and a cruise ship? A ship can sink."
I wonder if that's how the passengers and crew of Carnival's Splendor feel since they've been adrift at sea, and now slowly being pushed by tug boats into the port of San Diego.
Not too long ago, on our Mediterranean cruise, something happened to the engine and we lost power for about 8 hours. The captain dropped the anchor, we were close to shore, so that was reassuring, the emergency generator ran several pieces of equipment, like the refrigerators, one of the elevators, and the crew went out of their way to please us. The outage went right before we left for the evening meal, so as they informed us there would be no hot food, we said, "oh bring us a cheese plate." Voila. "How about some shrimp cocktail." "A little pate?" And of course, the wine was flowing freely.
Later that night we went to another couple's stateroom and opened a bottle of champagne. They had a flashlight. I always bring flashlights when I travel now.
The next day, even though the power was back on, we had to spend many hours running a course in the bay to prove to the authorities that we were sea worthy. The kitchen crew brought out all the gear to have a huge barbecue, and we're talking lamb, steak, pork, chicken, lobster, jumbo shrimp. There was caviar and salads and all the desserts you could see for miles. It was a ship of 500 passengers, and an 18 hour delay. We were fine. We missed the day in Monte Carlo, but when we got there at dusk, the captain sailed into the harbor and gave us a little golden- lit tour of the beautiful hills and city of that port. We also got a $1000 refund. Not bad.
I think the experience of a ship with over 4,000 passengers and many inside cabins and many hours at sea without electricity is something other than charming. Free drinks, that's good. But honestly, Pop Tarts and Spam? Canned crab? Oh, I hear croissants. That would just not be the vacation one bargained for. The inside cabin would be the worst. There is emergency lighting in the hallway, so if the door is open, there's some relief. But there's no air flowing at all. The toilets flush, Thank God, but no hot water for a shower. No light to see where anything is.
The cruise ship I worked on many years ago lost power for maybe a minute, and I was in the massage room (ships' masseuse) and it was pitch black. We were adrift. But really, only seconds. The worst thing that happened, and I wonder if this is happening on the Splendor, the enzymes for the "sewage" on the ship became
ineffective, and a few days later most of the ship smelled like the sewer. That was over twenty five years ago, and it was a 40 year old ship at the time. Maybe technology has changed and will save those passengers from further humiliation.
Will these passengers want to take Carnival up on their offer for another free cruise?

Catty, Fair Fighting, ooh, don't read this!

When I was married to the first husband, I admit it, we went to a marriage counselor. The details are fuzzy. I think I went by myself the first time and felt pretty good after the session. I remember that. Then the first husband came with me. The counselor, in his wisdom, explained "fair fighting" to us. Nice concept, a bit oxymoronish, but not bad. So we start, the first husband and I, kind of like an open hand when one is learning a new card game, with me saying what my complaints were about "him." The counselor taught us terms, and non editorial phrases, so as to stay objective and productive. I didn't get far. Somehow, when it was my turn, it all turned into the first husband's turn, and it was I who needed to change. Mind you, I never had a chance to really air my problem. This was the effect of the first husband on everyone: he was the righteous. He of the smoking-pot-and-staying-up-til-6am-and-not-having-a-job-kind. Those were the things that bothered me, but somehow my requests for him having an income was not fair to bring up during the "fair fighting." I showed them both. I got a divorce. I did keep the fair fighting concept somewhere in the back of my head. Because if done right, isn't that just a good debate?
So fast forward to this divisive time of life if one follows politics. I have had two long debates on facebook on the California Ballot Measure Prop 23. I have mentioned it, and supported it, and really wanted it to pass. I have 2 relatives who wanted it to fail. One just countered my arguments with his own opinions and articles he's found. The other started out by being sarcastic about my facebook status update that had nothing to do with Prop 23, but a little "spiritual" saying I believe in, but he linked it to Prop 23 because my avatar was Yes on 23. He said I should move to Texas because it's God's Country There. I agreed with him, and I guess it wasn't a spicy enough answer because he responded with yeah and there's lots of oil there, too.
I told him I love oil and all the things that it brings to us. Then we kind of went back and forth about God and who is God, and what are we doing here, sounding like he knew exactly why humans are here, "to heal the earth." Then it finally got to the fact that he said some of the sarcastic things because of my avatar. "I was prompted by your avatar." Was that fair fighting? I don't think so because he was "prompted" by something outside of himself, and not taking personal responsibility. We both were decent to one another, he just seemed to take my innocent, spiritual saying to such a dark place.
Someone he is heavily related to really got mad at me because I reiterated the "false report" about Obama spending 200 million dollars a day on his trip to India, etc. She was livid. Had she read a little farther down, I questioned it after someone asked me about it. But she didn't. When she's fired up, her arguments are rude. Really rude. Can you divorce a relative? Does she need to learn fair fighting? After she told me I was related to the conservative but crazy Michelle Bachmann (she spelled the name wrong) I did probably cross over to the unfair side of the fight...I told her she was becoming bitter like her father...which, is true, he was bitter, and that she needs to lighten up. Then I told her please don't bug me anymore, then I emailed her and asked her to be nicer to me, and that in the last 2 years she has said some pretty mean things, and she needs to apologize and to not be mean to me anymore. She emailed me back. She said she was sorry if what she said seemed intentionally mean. But she feels that I am rude and abrasive to her, and she will never change and I should look in the mirror and I should be patient.
I emailed her back. I said I never said the rude things to her that she has said and done to me (which I think hanging up on someone is rude....believe me, I've done it and I mean to be rude.) But I never hung up on her, ever, or related a crazy lady to her. (Well, her father, but he really is her relative) The only thing I do is pick on Obama. She takes it personally, he is her savior, her hero, a god. Obama is not any of those things to me. I think he really did spend a lot of taxpayers money in India, and I'm not afraid to say it! The Whitehouse never said how much, they just said 200 million and all the other figures were over exaggerated. Stupid Robert Gibbs. Is that unfair fighting? I digress.
Will the rift ever heal? Is this blog unfair fighting. She doens't read it, so I guess it's OK.

A Concrete Yes on 23

Proposition 23 is important to me because if AB32, The Final Solutions Act, is fully implemented, many many jobs are in jeopardy. AB 32 is California's own little "global warming" intervention.
Of course, now that the White House wants us to call it "climate disruption," there must be something wrong with global warming. Anyway, the California legislators along with Arnold Schwarzenegger's wife think California is a leader and everything we do all the other states will follow. They won't follow this one. Why? Because businesses are leaving California because they can't afford the fees and fines and upgrades that AB32 will impose. The other states will welcome business and don't tax, fine, punish and otherwise repulse businesses, and will be happy to have everything good that business brings. What are the things business brings: Employment and a huge tax base. What are states screaming about and lacking at every turn? Tax base. Tax base equals revenue in the state coffers. No one has any money, right? Businesses employ people, businesses create revenue, revenue creates taxes, taxes pay for lots of things.
Now I have liberal friends who say it doesn't matter that unemployment is at an all time high, there will never be a good time to make the environment healthy. Prop 23 does not create pollution, it only stops the terrible regulation on industry, so that we won't loose jobs jobs jobs.
My liberal friend used the no smoking ban in privately owned businesses to make a point. He said that it did kill his mother in law's bowling alley for 2 years, but then the business came booming back. So, that justifies punishing, taxing and fining businesses for their carbon footprints. How many businesses went out of business in those 2 years? How many people were laid off? Would you like the business you're in to be really really bad for 2 years so that you're laid off? Plus, this is just so different. It effects every business and every home. It justifies raising energy rates so that "clean energy" is subsidized, and every family and individual home dweller will be charged those extra fees. Every dollar taken from you will be another dollar sucked out of the economy. And for what purpose? The people who created the bill even admit it will do nothing to lessen global warming/climate disruption. My hubby is in commercial construction. They use lots of concrete. The making of concrete gives off lots of carbon dioxide. So, companies that manufacture concrete will either have to charge lots more to supply concrete for construction, or they will leave the state. What sounds better? None of it.
Prop 23 does not take away any environmental protections. It just does not allow AB 32 committees to fine and tax businesses. And by the way, how many new tax payer committees are going to be created by AB 32? People who are on the tax payer's back who will receive benefits for themselves and their families for life that you, in the private sector will be paying for? The more regulation, the bigger the government, the bigger the government, the bigger the taxes, the less everyone has to spend, the worse the economy gets.
Don't punish the private sector of California. Yes on 23!

Spoiler Alert!

After a thorough analysis of the movie I watched yesterday, I have come to this conclusion:
The Switch is a pleasantly pleasing facetious commentary on all sorts of liberal minded societal issues. I'll tell you some really good examples.
Kassie realizes that her biological clock is ticking down. She tells her best friend Wally that she really wants a kid, and who needs a man? She just needs sperm. She poo poos a sperm bank and its coldly technical procedures, and wants to find her own man. So, who does she find? A married man who needs the money because his associate professorship doesn't pay enough!
At the party where the sperm donation was taking place, the doctor for Kassie was smoking pot, and Debbie (Kassie's best friend) said, "he is very progressive."
Wally, because Debbie gave him some sort of herbal relaxant that he mixed with booze, messes up the sperm donation and decides that he needs to donate himself. He quickly finds a magazine with Diane Sawyer on the cover, and figures that should do the trick.
Sometime later, Kassie declares she's pregnant and has to move to be closer to her folks so her kid can have a good upbringing in a nice safe state like Minnesota.
Kassie realizes that family is important. She has no idea why her 6 year old son collects frames.
He doesn't put new pictures in of his family. He makes up stories that the people in the frames are his family.
Why do movies have such bad mother's in them? I guess it wouldn't make a good story if there were good mothers. She becomes a good mother because she realizes that her son really needs his father.
She came to the right conclusion.

Yeah, Dr. Laura gave me the right stuff!

I was a Dr. Laura addict. Loved her opinions, mostly, though I did make it on a KFI promo saying, "I have a love hate relationship with Dr. Laura. Sometimes she is so wrong." It was kind of cool hearing my own squeaky voice on the radio. I remember telling my sister once that I took a break from her because I felt like I was always doing something wrong.
Since she switched stations at noon, I have listened only hit and miss. I still get her email updates, and when I saw "apology," I thought, "ooohh, what is she apologizing for?"
Then I heard her whole shtick and didn't really think much of it. I know having listened to Dr. Laura for 20 years, from meeting her and writing for her for a few months (really, I did) she is not a racist. She is like a bulldozer, I admit, but she is not a racist, nor has she taken advantage of people and made her money on the backs of the poor emotionally disturbed people who call her.
I have heard stories about her over the years that she could be quite the demanding, difficult, prima dona. And I do know there was a bit of nastiness that she tried to put a small business out of business because he had a certain magazine on his counter. And who could forget her dive into Orthodox Judaism where she took the bible seriously and felt that homosexuality is wrong. Before that, though, she was a staunch supporter of gays and lesbians and I heard with my own ears how she could never condemn 2 people who love each other to a life of loneliness. I think after the Orthodoxy got too strenuous for her, she returned to that opinion.
She is human everyone. She is imperfect just as all her listeners and critics. Just as you and me.
So here is the wisdom I have learned from Dr. Laura.
Being home with your children to raise them is the best thing you can do for them.
Husbands are easy, wives are difficult. Women control the relationship and when they take the best care of their husbands, they get everything they desire. (The caveat, pick the right person to marry)
Having children out of wedlock is a mistake.
Getting married, having children and getting a divorce is a mistake.
It would be a better USA if 1,000,000 babies a year weren't aborted.
When one marries, one needs to cleave to his/her spouse and leave the apron strings of his/her mother.
Kids are really cool, need love, love, love, and discipline. A strict schedule for kids isn't such a great thing. Have fun with your kids.
And my favorite, be your husband's girlfriend.
I told my husband I am sad that Dr. Laura is going out this way. She should have been praised by Women's groups because of her success as a public figure, a wife and a mother.
She lived the life she espoused and whether you like her or not, she had a lot of really good things to offer to the human condition.

Aversion Therapy

I believe in aversion therapy. Make something really nasty for someone, and they probably won't try it again. Though when I think about it, why would people become addicted to smoking when the first time a human inhales burning vegetable matter, the cough that follows is painful and very nasty. But I digress.
Did I raise my sonny boy with aversion therapy? I kind of didn't have to because his own personality style kept him mostly on the straight and narrow. It was more of a "natural consequences" type upbringing. I didn't want to tell my own kid "no, no, no." all day, so I would either quickly take something away from him, or let him find out on his own that it didn't feel good or would break or whatever. That may sound irresponsible on the surface, but it worked out quite well.
I do believe in a harsh voice rather than a soft one when a child is doing something wrong, especially a young child. Because the tone of voice helps them define good from bad choices. If a mom or dad is sweetly saying no to something wrong, and sweetly saying yes to the right thing, where's the boundary line.
Anyway, back to my first point. Years ago I was speaking to a mom who's son had a heart condition that kept him from doing any kind of strenuous activity. They had to get special permission blah blah blah from the school district so the kid wouldn't die on the track running laps or end up in the ER after doing some push ups. It was all very bureaucratic and a little scary. So one day she comes home with bags of potting soil and manure in the trunk of her car. The kid goes over to the trunk and lifts one of the bags out of the trunk and carries it to the backyard. She told him he's not supposed to do anything like that and he just shrugged. I told her I would have told him. "See that shovel over there? Go get it would you, and start digging your grave, cause that's where you're gonna end up." She was shocked at what I was telling her, but I thought it was quite clever.
Flash forward to this last weekend. Talking to another friend who has a young relative with a serious addiction to heroine. The young lady tried rehab, got clean for a little while, met some dude, and is heading off to another state to go live with him. I told my friend, "she's going to die." My friend said, "I can't even think of that. I just have to think one day at a time." I felt bad for my friend because she is so close to this young lady, and so frightened and frustrated by her.
After we hung up, what she told me sort of rolled around in my head. What do you do with a young woman who could have the world in a great way, and chooses to use lethal drugs and really bad behavior, instead? I told my hubby, "I think if I had a hold of that kid, I'd say, let's take a little ride." And we'd drive to a mortuary and buy a death plan, so that when her body arrived, everything would be in place. Then we'd drive to the cemetery and pick out a plot. I wouldn't laugh or shy away from it, or let her back out in any way. I would let her hold on to the paper work on the way home. Hubby wondered if that might work. Me, too.

My Sister's Bedside

I go silently up the stairs. My sister is sleeping with her head propped up on pillows. She's as thin as a stick of gum. I sit in the chair next to the bed, lean down and kiss her gently on her arm. Her eyes open and I tell her, "It's Debby." She says, "Can you believe this is happening?" I tell her "yes." She asks where she is. I tell her she's in her extra bedroom because she's getting a special bed today. She looks confused, then closes her eyes. I let her sleep. The medication has caused some type of twitching that can be gentle, or wake her up because it rocks her so hard. I watch over her, and see she is fairly calm. I hear she got a patch for a pain delivery system, and I am relieved. I was upset when I had been there the other day because her face was racked in a painful grimace.
I sat in the chair for a little while, then eyed the cozy looking love seat near the bed, and settled there. I felt like I might doze off, too, but my sister woke and asked me what was happening to her. I told her she is dying. "I really am," she said, then asked, "when?" I told her only God knows that, but if she felt her body, because she knows it so well, that she might be able to tell if she thought about it for awhile. My brother in law walked in and she said, "I like that Debby is telling me the facts."
Later she asked me why is this happening. I told her that everyone dies, that it's part of life. And I told her everyone has challenges, and this is hers. She looked at me silently for a little while, then closed her eyes.
My brother in law asked me if I would help him find something she could be buried in. For some reason today, there are no tears. How could I look at her dresses, hanging one by one in the closet, and not have any tears? I told my brother in law, I am in a state of grace today, and feel strong. Not yesterday.
When I went the third time in to see my sweet sister, she asked me to tell her what kind of sister she was and what I thought of her. When I write this, I smile. I told her we had fun growing up together. That we became best friends when she finally moved out on her own, that she helped me when I was in trouble, and she has been the greatest aunt to Sonny Boy. I asked her what she thought of me, and she told me she thought I was a very talented person and I underestimated myself. What a very clear and precise answer that was.

A dying sister is real

I asked my acupuncturist today if she could help me to stop questioning if my situation is real. A dying sister is real. Why do I have to keep asking myself this? I keep rolling it over and over in my mind. How could someone who is here and present, be fading so quickly?
My sister for 61 years.
I don't understand the suffering she has to endure. Does it have meaning? I hope her reward is great.
The other day she asked me, "Did you see that trash can?" I said, "How about changing from seeing trash cans to seeing something pretty? How about something like your beautiful paintings, the reds and golds and turquoise? Your beautiful flowers, some blue sky, big puffy white clouds. See any angels? Any castles?" I said castles because our mother saw a big castle not too long before she passed into a coma. I wanted my sister to see beauty the other day. At one point she covered her head and said, "too many flubers...or some such word. " I hated that she was frightened. I wanted to talk her into seeing something pretty. She did nod and say yes to her paintings and beautiful colors.

Grad Parties Everywhere, now on to Father's Day

Walking

We spent a week in Laguna and I came away from that vacation with an inspiration to walk. It's a great walking town. From the trail above the ocean that every so often leads to a stairway down to either the long sandy beach or the little coves spotted with rocks and cliffs, to the coast highway loaded with shops, galleries, jewelery stores and restaurants, visitors have a plethora of fabulous walking tours. Every day to step out and see the ocean and smell the sea air is a brand new invitation to walk, breathe, see, and check out all the different kinds of folks that stroll the town.
So I told myself and Hubby that I would do a lot more walking once we got home. Our town is a sprawling complex of blacktop and concrete before anything like nature or tony shops crop up to spark the imagination. But walking is good for the bones, muscles and brain, so off I went to the gym with a backpack, passing the empty used car lot, the corner Denny's and the world renowned Cal Worthington Ford.
After the gym and a slightly more forceful workout to stave off osteoporosis, I hoofed it to Pavilions for a few things, then to the dry cleaners. It was a far cry from the soothing sound of the ocean and a dazzling array of diamonds and gold, but I did hear a few bird calls and fantasized about Hubby surprising me by picking up this dramatic necklace with a pearl the size of a cranberry sitting on a solid gold ribbon set off by a bright little diamond on several strands of thin gold. Hmmm.
I slept really well last night, too. That's a nice side effect of taking a walk. There certainly aren't many walkers where I live. I passed 3 people walking. One man I could see coming from quite a ways away, and there was something shiny as he strolled closer to me. At first I thought it was someone on a bicycle, but I could see his legs, so that wasn't right. Then I realized it was a walking cane, and he was swinging it side to side on the sidewalk because he was blind. I wondered if I kept walking toward me he would sense I was there. I didn't want him to find me with his cane, though I thought that might be kind of interesting. The sidewalk was kind of narrow, and I thought I could go into the street or push into the bushes so he could pass me. I decided to stand aside in a clearing next to the sidewalk and wait and watch him go past me. That he did, swinging his cane side to side. He was probably 35 or 40, he had a pretty good build, his shoulders looked strong and square through his gray tee shirt. He was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. I wondered if he sensed me there next to the bushes adjacent to the sidewalk, but he just kept swinging his cane and walking forward. I stepped back on the sidewalk and walked on to finish my chores on foot.

Thanks, Hubby

Have I talked about the most romantic thing Hubby and I do? May 10th is the anniversary of our meeting date. This last May 10 has been 25 years since that chance meeting and subsequent dating, courting, engagement, marriage.
This year was really romantic. He sent me 25 long stem red roses and when the delivery guy brought them in, I cried. We had been spending money like water the last several days, and I figured a card and going out to dinner would be plenty of celebration. Plus, I would give him a massage at the end of the evening. And then the roses arrived.
25 years ago
What a very fast quarter of a century

Fantasy to Ruin

In 1986 there wasn't a political bone in my body except for the occasional vote for a Democrat. I had just started listening to talk radio, but it was Joyce Brothers and her advice to the pathetic that I listened to the most. Then came along David Viscott and his straight forward, sometimes rude responses to questions like, "why am I a failure?"
In the news there was a huge debate going on as to whether there should be a "One Time Amnesty Bill" passed. It raged on in the periphery of my joy of living alone for the first time in several years, and a sweetly growing massage clientele. The bill passed and Reagan signed it.
In 1990 I went back to school and took a critical writing class. We had to give a debate and write a paper based on our opinion of the side that we took. Our debate was based on all the illegal aliens who have emerged in even larger numbers since the amnesty bill passed. I had no idea what I wanted to debate, and there was a woman in our group who had been passionate about the increase of illegal activity since the bill had passed. My stance was America is so great, why, we could have completely open borders and everyone would benefit.
When I said that statement to Hubby, he looked at me like I was crazy. "Babe, we can't absorb everyone. It would make this country terrible. We have to have quotas so as not to have huge unemployment, over crowding, crime, problems that we haven't even named yet!"
"Oh," I thought, "my side of the argument might be hard to defend, in that case."
Fast forward to 2010 and Arizona's new "Illegal Immigrant Bill." It's a fiery subject to those not living in the shoes of 70% of Arizona's population who are afraid, and tired of what has become of their state. Phoenix is the "kidnap capital" of the United States, crime, rape, drugs and drug cartel, damage to land and crops and livestock has increased 100 fold in the last ten years. The stated begged and begged the Federal Government to do something and nothing has been done. They really did have to do something. Now I know the law seems unfair, unreasonable, and unconstitutional. The last part remains to be seen. But the death of a rancher by drug traffickers, who happened to help illegals cross his land, was the last straw for Arizona.
I think people who are compassionate about illegal aliens who come to work in the USA feel that there is nothing wrong with this lifestyle and it is an innocent act. That attitude reminds me of a little story my friend told me about her and her son. They went to Vegas together to enjoy each other's company and to play bingo. She is the big bingo player and goes to Vegas just for that joy. Her son decided that he would go and play bingo with her. She was delighted to hear the news. She thought how wonderful to have her son by her side, enjoying the same thing she was. She imagined that it would be sweet and fun: a bonding experience. Instead, he began to take advantage of the free drinks. He drank a lot. He got drunk and loud and belligerent and embarrassed her and ruined her fantasy.
That is what has happened to Arizona.

Song Mantras for Fun and Profit

Song mantras for fun and profit. Haha. I say that with a laugh in my voice, but it really works.
Here's what I did and how it made me feel.
It all started with a sinking feeling of someone's supposed authority over me. I have always shriveled at authority. That sinking feeling when I would hear, "Could you come into my office?" Oooh. Or, a mid manager type starting a sentence with, "Good job on that report...." They must be taught this at the school district: When delivering bad news, start with a compliment first. My hubby completely accepts criticism. I am devastated. But as a mature baby boomer, I have learned to handle it with graciousness, I hope, at least on the outside.
The other day, someone I deemed as a pain, but I would have to deal with regularly, spoke to me in such a way as to inflict her authority. When I told her of my request, she responded with, "I will let you know when that can happen," with full-on alpha female tone and eyebrows raised. With that stance taken, I completely yielded and felt rebuked.
On the edge of a minor depression (really minor), I added more nastiness. Just thinking of her made me think of a few other gal pals that had faded away or dismissed me in some way. It all jabbed away at my brain cells and felt like a nasty drug habit of "fear and loathing." What was the payoff for feeling rejected?
I didn't wanna do it, I didn't wanna do it.
I really wanted to rise above and put my philosophy of "thoughts are things, and my thoughts are the blue prints to the outside world" to practice!
So, in the shower I started to sing, "I'm gonna wash those gals right out of my hair, I gonna wash those gals right out of my hair....and send them on their way...." What better place to begin a new singing mantra phenomenon!
After I started feeling better, because, singing does always make one feel better, I realized I was using the negative lyric. That couldn't stand too long. So the positive lyric became a much better ditty/affirmation.
I'm gonna wave good friends right into my hair, I'm gonna wave good health right into my hair, I'm gonna wave great cash right into my hair. And feel God's loving Plan....
Oh, this was beauty on all sides.
Try it, you'll like it. Any tune will do.

Unschooling

Three of us docents were walking toward LBMA for our stint of touring 5th graders. One of our favorite subjects is the great things the kids say. MJ says, "one little boy said, 'I thought this was going to be boring. But it's fun.' " She smiles and says, "make my day!" I say, "when learning is fun, it's the best. School should be fun, but it's creepy." The 2 other docents laugh. C. says, "I liked school." I could see where she would. She loves structure and rules and order. MJ thinks school should be fun then brings up "Unschooling." Now I had heard about Unschooling several years ago, and thought, RIGHT ON! If only my parents had taken the initiative to take interest in my interests, to direct me to a passion in life, and love and support my passions, to educate me at home with life!
That's what Unschooling represents to me.
I stand strong with my assessment that school is creepy. Not that I didn't have special teachers, teachers that taught life as a fascination and experience of beauty and thought. But mostly it was about learning in a group and learning what was deemed by law to be important. And that was before No Child Left Behind.
So in my mind, there's a kid who loves gymnastics, for example. Think of all the ways a kid could learn and think and write about the world because of gymnastics. First, the way the body works - physiology and anatomy. The angles and distances and physics of movement: Wow, that's math and science. Working as a team: that's sociology. What teams have been to the Olympics and won gold medals: That's history and geography.
Right there in the heat and love of a passion is EDUCATION!
Level of interest is the pinnacle of getting anyone to learn. Of course I never heard that phrase until I asked my supervisor and overseer for the Special Ed kid to whom I was an aide,"Why couldn't she remember one thing I said about writing a sentence or adding 2 plus 2, but when I brought a Yahtzee game to school with only one score sheet, she remembered the entire format of the score sheet the next day when I only had a blank piece of paper?" "Level of interest," she says, wisely. Voila!
That is why I love Unschooling. Think of passion as the magnet that attracts to it tirelessness, love, desire and accomplishment. It all comes from that fertile ground inside a beautiful brain wanting to know more about life. Regular school just can't compete with that.

The Cure for Snoring

All I wanted was a new bed. A new bed and a good deal. A new luxurious bed that wasn't weighted down (supposedly) by sweat and dust mites after sleeping on it for 8 years. Those radio commercials really got me when the little dust mites voices called out, "more skin flakes, please."
I went alone to the bed store and the salesman brought me to this plush, lovely mattress that felt heavenly to lay on. Will it hold a man who weighs over 200? I ask.
Sure, yeah, look, he leans on it and gives it a big fat nudge. I wasn't that impressed with that little bit of salesmanship, but I really loved the feel of the bed. It cushioned my every curve.
Hubby comes with me a few days later and we lay down on the bed, and he agrees, it feels good. We buy only the mattress, thinking our box spring and bed frame were still good. The mattress comes a few days later, and I love it, really love it, until I realize I roll into my hubby as his size creates a crater. Why didn't I notice this in the store? And doing the you-know-what, the damn thing just bottomed out!
What a tremendous disappointment. I won't go into the phone calls that ensued, because the whining alone will annoy you.
Needless to say, I exchange the beloved mattress (while in bed by myself) for a much more expensive mattress, a new frame with middle supports, and a new box spring. Plus, I thought the sheets would be lovely because they told me so.
Why do mattresses feel better in the store than they do at home? And, I hated the new sheets they toted as so great. Hated them, they felt scratchy and nasty.
When Hubby got in the new bed, he said he felt like he was getting on an aircraft carrier. That first night was miserable, but, I didn't roll into him, that's for sure. He slept like a rock.
I bought one of those foam egg crate pads. No, still felt that hard hard mattress. I bought another one, my hips and shoulders still hurt! I turned them so the "dips" of the egg crate shape faced each other. Success. The mattress felt soft, yet firm, I didn't roll into Hubby because the aircraft carrier upheld his weight. The you-know-what was fully supported, lol, and miracles of miracles, Hubby's snoring has turned into gentle little wisps of air. A firm mattress: the cure for big bad snoring? So far, so good.

Debby's Paintings

In the Scheme of Things...

Hubby has a "happy place," and I'm a little envious. Have I always been so hyper and so sensitive?
Where is that calm, beautiful, peaceful place in my mind that brings my heart rate down?
I have one of the happiest memories secured in my mind, but it's not peaceful. Not like Hubby's.
His is an old surfing memory of dawn cresting on the horizon, as he sits on his surfboard in that early light, waiting for the next set of swells to catch a ride. He said it was the perfect morning, calm, clear, the smell of the ocean penetrating his senses, and the air filling his lungs with earthly goodness. (Well, my corny words, not his.) He says he will always remember that day, that moment in time when he needs to calm down.
My really happy moment is the first time I saw Sonny Boy. Having to have an emergency C section made it impossible to see him imediately after he was presented to the world via my belly rather than my down under. So a few hours after recovery, they wheel me to the nursery and a nurse brings him over to me, and he's crying. I say, "Don't cry, Sonny Boy. Don't cry." And he stops crying and starts looking at me. He recognized my voice. I didn't get to hold him until I was in a room, but that moment was pretty special. I love it. I don't know if it calms me down, but it definitely gives me a lift.
So, right now, I need a lift.
I'm very sensitive about my writing. I wrote a little Haiku for the newsletter I'm involved in, and somehow after the proofing by the powers that be, a word got changed without anyone telling me. Well, you know Haiku. It's very lean on words, every single one counts. The word that filled in for the correct one just messed it up. "Eh?" I say, when I'm sitting in the group of fellow docents, reading the newsletter. I lean over to my co writer and say, "There's a typo."
She takes a gulp at first, then says, "Oh, it's OK." Easy for her to say.
Hey, powers that be, a word: DON'T CHANGE MY WRITING WITHOUT ASKING ME!
It hasn't been the first time, and I asked that if anything's going to change, tell me. It makes me want to say, "Next time it's a deal breaker."
Come hither, happy place!
PS. I wrote the Haiku to illustrate the fact that training classes were interrupted by really bad weather.
A Winter Haiku
Winter rain tamped
Our list of keen art classes
February looms bright

Dallas, here's your chance to shine

Storm watch is in effect in California! This time size does matter. haha.
I've been breathing in the smell of the rain and watching with enthusiasm the big beautiful drops on our swimming pool. The sound of the rain is intoxicating to me, since I've been waiting for an "active winter season" for years.
The first heavy downpour in Long Beach brought with it reports of heavy flooding and a tornado watch. We have had tornadoes in this area of So Cal, and it seems rather remarkable. But, it's true.
When Sonny boy was around a year old, the storm activity was just about the same as this week has been. I had a dream those years ago during a windy night, that the speed of the wind was 1000 miles an hour. I thought the dream was brought on by the loud slapping of our mail box cover. In the morning I looked in the backyard, and nothing had been disturbed. Sonny boy's toys lay on his little red and yellow plastic table and bench set as we had left them. The umbrella in the big people's picnic table was undisturbed. There seemed to be some debris strewn around the yard, but this seemed typical of a windy night. When I looked out the front windows, the neighbors were gathered, standing, talking. But this was not an unusual event, either. Then the phone calls began. "There was a tornado in Lakewood. Are you OK!!!!" No way. It was a little windy, but there couldn't have been a tornado.
But there had been. Right across the street from us, it broke several neighbors windows, ripped out a patio cover and pulled up a tree, then ripped out several trees on our street farther down the block. This was all done in my oblivion since nothing happened to our house. I had to apologize for mocking both my mom and mother in law for their media made hysteria.
And 10 years later, there was another water spout that made it to land to rip off the roof of a Lucky Super Market not far from us. It even pulled out a tree from the median of our future home, which we purchased only a month or so later. That was never disclosed to us....I always wondered why there was this big dip in our lawn. A neighbor happened to mention it to me casually one day when I had the gardener fill the dip with dirt. Dusty says, "Yeah, this tornado came along and ripped that tree right out."
So, the other day, I took the tornado watch more seriously. It moved its way farther south and made the news in Huntington Beach.
There's another water spout chance in today's news. Time will tell.
http://abclocal.go.com/kabc/bio?section=resources/inside_station/newsteam&id=5744044