It's been over a year since I last wrote! I have been writing, but mostly video making, taking care of the house, traveling a bit, facebook time, way too much, and now I got an iphone so I am playing on that!
Today I will donate blood, so one for humanity. I am still quite involved with LBMA and have enjoyed that very much. My writing blog chops are lazy.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Thursday, April 7, 2011
How about some gefilte fish
A matzoh company is now following me on Twitter. I hope they're not disappointed. I did buy some matzoh today, though not theirs. Hmmmm
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Passover
A dear friend who attended my sister's funeral told me, "I just love Jewish things." Apparently, not only did the funeral impress her, the inherent Jewishness of the whole thing really touched her. I said to her, "Oh, I will have s Seder next spring." And as the calendar days have ticked away, the time has come. I texted her, "Passover at my house?" "Oh goody," was the reply.
I have not given a Seder in 22 years, and that one was the simplest of services with our Sonny Boy's God Parents, non Jews, too. It was then I learned that many Christian Churches give Seders because The Last Supper was a Seder. Our 4 month old Sonny Boy sat snuggled on his God Mother's lap as I lead the service. We read through the Haggadah, as I picked and chose my favorite parts, giving a thumbnail sketch of the Jews' life and escape from Egypt.
There was no Pesach preparation of the kitchen by scrubbing every inch of counter space, refrigerator, microwave, counters or sink. No extra laundering of tablecloths, no digging out the Passover dishes, silverware and utensils. I didn't start from scratch with the food in the frig or the cupboards. I didn't check the medicine cabinet. I didn't get rid of one crumb of chometz (non kosher ingestibles). There was no blessing before the search for chometz, no burning of the chometz, no worrying about chometz.
This year will be the same. In years passed, when I helped my mother prepare for Passover, I thought it was definitely symbolic of the slavery in Egypt. There is a way to avoid all of the work, go away for the week. I did that once with my mother and step dad. We went to Israel and had an honest to goodness Seder in Jerusalem. The service was so quick with all Hebrew, no arguing whether hard boiled eggs are really a legitimate Karpas (appetizer) no Hebrew then English. The matzoh balls were the kind that were so hard, when I went to slice it with my spoon, I thought it would catapult to the other side of the room.
In my lifetime there have always been 2 nights of Seders. I learned from my step dad that Passover has only one night in Israel because it's in the correct time zone, and there's no guessing exactly when the proper phase of the moon strikes. Which, by the way is how all Jewish holidays are discerned, by the phases of the moon.
So far, I have found a 30 minute Seder Haggadah, polished brass candle holders, and asked my cousin to sing songs and prayers for me in Hebrew to put on my ipod to play at the Seder. Two weeks and counting.
I have not given a Seder in 22 years, and that one was the simplest of services with our Sonny Boy's God Parents, non Jews, too. It was then I learned that many Christian Churches give Seders because The Last Supper was a Seder. Our 4 month old Sonny Boy sat snuggled on his God Mother's lap as I lead the service. We read through the Haggadah, as I picked and chose my favorite parts, giving a thumbnail sketch of the Jews' life and escape from Egypt.
There was no Pesach preparation of the kitchen by scrubbing every inch of counter space, refrigerator, microwave, counters or sink. No extra laundering of tablecloths, no digging out the Passover dishes, silverware and utensils. I didn't start from scratch with the food in the frig or the cupboards. I didn't check the medicine cabinet. I didn't get rid of one crumb of chometz (non kosher ingestibles). There was no blessing before the search for chometz, no burning of the chometz, no worrying about chometz.
This year will be the same. In years passed, when I helped my mother prepare for Passover, I thought it was definitely symbolic of the slavery in Egypt. There is a way to avoid all of the work, go away for the week. I did that once with my mother and step dad. We went to Israel and had an honest to goodness Seder in Jerusalem. The service was so quick with all Hebrew, no arguing whether hard boiled eggs are really a legitimate Karpas (appetizer) no Hebrew then English. The matzoh balls were the kind that were so hard, when I went to slice it with my spoon, I thought it would catapult to the other side of the room.
In my lifetime there have always been 2 nights of Seders. I learned from my step dad that Passover has only one night in Israel because it's in the correct time zone, and there's no guessing exactly when the proper phase of the moon strikes. Which, by the way is how all Jewish holidays are discerned, by the phases of the moon.
So far, I have found a 30 minute Seder Haggadah, polished brass candle holders, and asked my cousin to sing songs and prayers for me in Hebrew to put on my ipod to play at the Seder. Two weeks and counting.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Failure Rules?
Anticipation is the word that comes to me when the new season of American Idol starts up. This year especially, what with Simon gone and all. I really like the change. Steven Tyler, as strange looking as he is, and Jennifer Lopez are really enjoyable. Plus there were subtle changes in the tryouts that made for entertaining watching. I guess you could say I am an American Idol fan.
One of the best things to me about American Idol during the "live" part of the show, is the lack of hatred/pettiness/dissent/vulgarity/confrontation between contestants that can be found on some other reality type shows. (Well, omitting the Simon and Paula thing.) Unfortunately, during all the shows that lead up to the "Live" shows, the producers choose to put a lot of the emotionally embarrassing stuff in. It's especially profuse during Hollywood Week. When the camera lingers on someone in emotional melt down I scoff at the TV, "Quit your blubbering."
There's one irksome contestant, a skinny, unsightly young woman, that the camera just kept focusing on. Her trials and tribulations were the magnet for so much camera time, I kept wondering why? Why? When it was time for her solo, I thought she botched it so terribly that, Thank God, that would be the end of her. I was so wrong. When she was in a room of contestants that were either in or out, there she was in her neurotic glory alongside some of my favorites. NOOOOO!
Either they were out, or she was in! Reality TV sucks sometimes.
It made me think of my other favorite "Reality" shows. The powers that be think that watching people fail makes for good tv watching, i.e., great ratings. Do we as humans watching humans really love failure? Does watching losers makes us feel superior, and when the one outstanding last man standing wins, it makes it that much sweeter? What is their reasoning?
I know when I am watching the elimination judging on Project Runway, and one of the contestants is nice and the other is a bitch or worse, the nice one gets kicked off.
I know this has to be the producer's choice. Not only that, the challenges are so tough, they seem to incubate distress and failure. I don't watch Survivor, just the name alone implies it's gonna be a bumpy ride and everyone is going for it.
But Top Chef and Project Runway should be about creativity and implementation, not survivor skills. But that doesn't stop the producers from selecting the most excruciating challenges. Why can't they give the contestants and extra few hours to create and execute perfection? I think because they love failure. Too bad.
American Idol has its sight set on the perfect failure. That scrawny young woman.
Her buggy eyes, withered face and scraggly hair over rule her voice. I barely remember what she sounds like. And I am highly suspicious of why in the hell she was chosen with so many gracious, talented, good looking young contestants. I hope she isn't the thorn in my American Idol side the whole season. Yikes!
One of the best things to me about American Idol during the "live" part of the show, is the lack of hatred/pettiness/dissent/vulgarity/confrontation between contestants that can be found on some other reality type shows. (Well, omitting the Simon and Paula thing.) Unfortunately, during all the shows that lead up to the "Live" shows, the producers choose to put a lot of the emotionally embarrassing stuff in. It's especially profuse during Hollywood Week. When the camera lingers on someone in emotional melt down I scoff at the TV, "Quit your blubbering."
There's one irksome contestant, a skinny, unsightly young woman, that the camera just kept focusing on. Her trials and tribulations were the magnet for so much camera time, I kept wondering why? Why? When it was time for her solo, I thought she botched it so terribly that, Thank God, that would be the end of her. I was so wrong. When she was in a room of contestants that were either in or out, there she was in her neurotic glory alongside some of my favorites. NOOOOO!
Either they were out, or she was in! Reality TV sucks sometimes.
It made me think of my other favorite "Reality" shows. The powers that be think that watching people fail makes for good tv watching, i.e., great ratings. Do we as humans watching humans really love failure? Does watching losers makes us feel superior, and when the one outstanding last man standing wins, it makes it that much sweeter? What is their reasoning?
I know when I am watching the elimination judging on Project Runway, and one of the contestants is nice and the other is a bitch or worse, the nice one gets kicked off.
I know this has to be the producer's choice. Not only that, the challenges are so tough, they seem to incubate distress and failure. I don't watch Survivor, just the name alone implies it's gonna be a bumpy ride and everyone is going for it.
But Top Chef and Project Runway should be about creativity and implementation, not survivor skills. But that doesn't stop the producers from selecting the most excruciating challenges. Why can't they give the contestants and extra few hours to create and execute perfection? I think because they love failure. Too bad.
American Idol has its sight set on the perfect failure. That scrawny young woman.
Her buggy eyes, withered face and scraggly hair over rule her voice. I barely remember what she sounds like. And I am highly suspicious of why in the hell she was chosen with so many gracious, talented, good looking young contestants. I hope she isn't the thorn in my American Idol side the whole season. Yikes!
Friday, January 21, 2011
A Different Kind of Jewelry
As friends and family have learned, my mother in law has moved in with us. Believe it or not, this was my idea. I have said to myself and sometimes to other folks when the subject has come up, that I would have her here if that's what Hubby wanted. Well, that time has come.
She is very tiny and frail, having come to us from the hospital because she had a bout with pneumonia. Before that she lived by herself quite successfully on the independent side of a retirement community. We, coincidentally, were on the verge of moving her over to the assisted side because of certain age related memory issues. Now, mind you, she had started on medication to help her memory, but she would forget to take it, so...we had that, and some other goofy oddities that needed to be tended. She is 92.
So, on and off since she has been in our home, we have had honest conversations about her dying and her wishes about her remains. Since I have known her, the choice has always been cremation.
While I was rubbing her feet, I told her how my choice is to be turned into a diamond. I had heard about this idea several years ago, and I Googled it, and it has stuck! I even bought the heart shaped glass container I would like my diamond to sit in. No real muss or fuss, just put it on a nice windowsill somewhere and I will quietly shine when the sun hits. (Hopefully it will shine. I'm not quite sure of the quality a human body's ashes will make, but I think it's worth a try.)
Well, maybe it was the ecstatic joy of having her feet rubbed, but she got a big smile when I told her that could be done, and she said, "That sounds fun!" I agree.
She is very tiny and frail, having come to us from the hospital because she had a bout with pneumonia. Before that she lived by herself quite successfully on the independent side of a retirement community. We, coincidentally, were on the verge of moving her over to the assisted side because of certain age related memory issues. Now, mind you, she had started on medication to help her memory, but she would forget to take it, so...we had that, and some other goofy oddities that needed to be tended. She is 92.
So, on and off since she has been in our home, we have had honest conversations about her dying and her wishes about her remains. Since I have known her, the choice has always been cremation.
While I was rubbing her feet, I told her how my choice is to be turned into a diamond. I had heard about this idea several years ago, and I Googled it, and it has stuck! I even bought the heart shaped glass container I would like my diamond to sit in. No real muss or fuss, just put it on a nice windowsill somewhere and I will quietly shine when the sun hits. (Hopefully it will shine. I'm not quite sure of the quality a human body's ashes will make, but I think it's worth a try.)
Well, maybe it was the ecstatic joy of having her feet rubbed, but she got a big smile when I told her that could be done, and she said, "That sounds fun!" I agree.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Never Enough Jewelry
Hubby's wedding ring has been sitting in my jewelry box for about 22 years. We've been married almost 23 years. He doesn't like jewelry. It doesn't bother me that he doesn't wear it, I don't even think of it. He is so attached to me as his wife, I am completely secure in that respect. But, I cleaned out my jewelry box not long ago, and found unwanted, unused, broken gold, GOLD, GOLD ...the rage in getting cash cash cash, or in the case of my little local jewelry store, trade- in power for new Jewelry! I drool at that big chunk of gold that he doesn't wear. I wonder secretly, how much could I get for this golden delight?
I gently talk about his ring that has been sitting, unused, for lo these many years. He says he'll get it sized so he can wear it. I say, "but you'll take it off and leave it somewhere."
"No I won't," he says adamantly. "Hubby, you hate jewelry. You never wear a watch, and if you do, you leave it on your desk, in a restaurant, in your car, never does it stay on your wrist a full working day." He suddenly catches on. "You cannot have MY ring to turn into more jewelry."
Damn. That was really fast. "Wouldn't it be nice if I turned it into something that can be seen and appreciated instead of wasting away in a dark jewelry box?"
He immediately goes to get the ring.
"You don't even know where it is," I say. After rustling around in his top drawer for awhile he demands, "Where is it?"
In my jewelry box. He finds it and tries to slip it on his ring finger. It doesn't work, so he puts it on his pinky and says, "I'm going to wear it always, just like this."
"Babe, you'll loose it."
Then, in the midst of our sacred marital bedroom, he tells me, "You can't have my ring to get more jewelry; you have enough jewelry."
I said with complete astonishment , "Never, ever say that to a woman, never!" We did break out in laughter, but I was shocked and mortified. I told him, "telling me something like that is telling you that you've watched enough football!" He acted like he didn't understand the analogy.
But, I know he did.
I gently talk about his ring that has been sitting, unused, for lo these many years. He says he'll get it sized so he can wear it. I say, "but you'll take it off and leave it somewhere."
"No I won't," he says adamantly. "Hubby, you hate jewelry. You never wear a watch, and if you do, you leave it on your desk, in a restaurant, in your car, never does it stay on your wrist a full working day." He suddenly catches on. "You cannot have MY ring to turn into more jewelry."
Damn. That was really fast. "Wouldn't it be nice if I turned it into something that can be seen and appreciated instead of wasting away in a dark jewelry box?"
He immediately goes to get the ring.
"You don't even know where it is," I say. After rustling around in his top drawer for awhile he demands, "Where is it?"
In my jewelry box. He finds it and tries to slip it on his ring finger. It doesn't work, so he puts it on his pinky and says, "I'm going to wear it always, just like this."
"Babe, you'll loose it."
Then, in the midst of our sacred marital bedroom, he tells me, "You can't have my ring to get more jewelry; you have enough jewelry."
I said with complete astonishment , "Never, ever say that to a woman, never!" We did break out in laughter, but I was shocked and mortified. I told him, "telling me something like that is telling you that you've watched enough football!" He acted like he didn't understand the analogy.
But, I know he did.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
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?
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?
Monday, November 8, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, September 20, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, August 20, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, August 9, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, July 2, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
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
Monday, May 3, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
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.
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.
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