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.