Martin Luther King, Jr.


Monday, January 16, 2017

Today I am grateful for Martin Luther King, Jr..  But not just him.  Although he was the leader in the great civil rights movement, there were and still are many, many people dedicated to this vital cause.  So thank you to all of you (us) who are still fighting the fight for equality for ALL.  Keep the faith.

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Bulge-Busting Yoga Pants


Sunday, January 15, 2017

Today I am grateful for bulge-busting yoga pants.  Oh boy.  I went back to Weight Watchers yesterday. . .again. . .still trying after all these years.  So in order to support a higher protein, garbage-dispose the leftover Christmas candy which I made an extra batch of after Christmas. . . eating plan, I cooked today.


While the turkey sausages, chicken breasts and spinach, mushroom, onion quiche were in the oven, I sat at the kitchen table to read the newspaper.  I skimmed over the usual and devoured the usual.  I have never met a kitchen chair that was comfortable for me.  They dig into the backs of my thighs, cutting off the blood and irritating the brain.  Mine are no exception.  Even with a cushion.  Actually two.  One stays with the chair, one I carry around.


Turning the page, already irritated, there they were.  Two women wearing “Smoothing it Out”, bulge-busting yoga pants.  Are you kidding me?  Let me get this right.  You have a body for which you could even consider wearing those sprayed-on nightmares and now they are making them with bulge-busting control to hide your what?  Bones?  Unshaved legs?  Any vestige of a human being inside them?


Himself was padding around the house when I was shouting at the newspaper so I hollered, (in a nice way, of course) “Please bring me the camera!” as though my life, or his depended on it.


Handing it to me he asked, “What are you taking a picture of?”  I told him about the bulge-busting yoga pants.  Pause.  You know that moment when you and your husband share a “look” between you, where each knows that the other better not say a word?  Yeah, that one.  It used to indicate a quick toss in the hay, now it means “tread carefully asshole”.  Well Himself is looking at me and I’m looking at him and he raises an eyebrow and says, “That’s going to make the blog!”  And walks away.  Fast.  He lives.


Where can I get these?  Do they have any bolder patterns or are they reserved for the Museum of Modern Art?  Do I go to a women’s store or a department store? Should I just head to Home Depot for a roller, stencils and paint?  Exactly how many bulges can one pair of pants bust before they, well, bust?  Do they work on someone who looks like she saw an “all you can carry for free” sign at a cauliflower stand and shoved ten heads down her pants?


And if they are “control” spandex like the dreaded Spanx, then how tall of a building do you need to jump from to wedge them on without getting the ultimate wedgie?  How many sizes do they lop off of your legs while still allowing you to be able to get your shoes on, or get behind your steering wheel?


I wonder if there is a disclaimer on the number of bulges they bust?  If I order a 4X and wear them to the Silver Sneakers Chair Exercise class will everyone think I’m serious, or will they yank up their chairs like Lion Tamers waiting for the imminent explosion?  A new circus act. . .but a day too late.  Rats.

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Tortured Writers


Saturday, January 14, 2017

Today I am grateful for tortured writers.  Himself has been ensconced in front of football games for hours, leaving me to my own, welcome devices.  So I just watched a movie he would have hated.  “Genius” – It is the bromance story of writer, Thomas Wolfe (Jude Law) and editor, Maxwell Perkins (Colin Firth).  It is currently running on HBO at various times and I’m sure available on Netflix, too.


Set in the late 1920’s, during the days of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemmingway, the moody film is certainly not for everyone.  For a while I wasn’t sure it was for me.  But I stayed the course because I am a sometime fan of Jude Law and I would watch Colin Firth read the phone book anytime.


I poked around on line and read a brief review and it was not good.  Did I like it?  Did the review, read after the fact change my fickle mind?  Nope.  Did the film boast of great filmmaking or perfect characters?  Hardly.  There wasn’t much perfection on any count.


Writers love words.  Most of us love them way too much.  We balk whenever some pagan editor wants to cut even one of our precious babies.  Editors love words, too, but recognize the importance of brevity and proper placement to engage the reader and capture the mood.  That push-pull is the stuff of great books.  You can’t get one without the other.


I knew how Wolfe felt when Perkins wielded his red pencil, scratching out page after too-long page.  I knew how Perkins felt when Wolfe showed up and dropped five cartons of “book” at his feet.


So did I love it?  I’m still not sure.  But I do know that the story, the characters, the acting and the general feel of true-friendship-love will stay with me for a long time.  For this tortured writer, it’s enough.

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Breaking My Own Rule


Friday, January 13, 2017

Today I am grateful to be breaking my own rule.  Two days ago I set the rule for myself that I would not go on the computer after 7 p.m.  It’s 9:30.  Ask how that rule is working out?  The first night I slept great but since I was awake at 4:30 a.m. today, I figure all bets are off.  But I wasn’t inspired to actually write anything, so for kicks,  I went back to the beginning of my blog and looked up the same date three years ago.  Guess what it was on.  Karma?  Kismet?  Happy coincidence.  Turns out I inspired somebody pretty significant.  Myself!  Enjoy the re-run.


Monday, January 13, 2014

Today I am grateful for inspiration.  It’s a wonderful feeling to be inspired to try something new, to do something different, or create something wonderful.  People who inspire are the best.  They are the encouragers in this world.  I walk among inspiring people.


You say you want to try painting something other than your toenails and they say, “Go ahead!”  You say you want to write something other than a grocery list and they say, “You should.  Start now.”  You say you want to start an exercise program even though you’ve sat on the couch with the intensity of an aerobic activity for 40 years and they say, “Sure.  You can do it.  Take it easy, go slow, but go ahead.  You’ll be fine.”  You say you would like to start a blog if you knew what it was and they say, “I’ll help.”  You say I can’t, I’m afraid, it’s impossible, what if and how?   And they say, “you can, I know, it’s possible and the ‘what if’s’ and ‘how’s’ will always be there. . .so what?”


Being inspired is great.  It’s empowering and fulfilling. Then one day, you’re “wasting” time poking through Facebook and your reading messages and comments and it dawns on you that something you’ve wanted forever has happened.  You’ve inspired someone else.  And that’s the best inspiration of all.

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Thursday, January 12, 2017

Today I am grateful for self-imposed restrictions. I haven’t been sleeping well.  There are probably more reasons for this than I care to go into, but the truth is that I am a bear if I don’t get enough sleep.  Not a cute, rolling in a tub of water bear, but the grizzly that’s ready to rip the roof of your car off.  So I need sleep.


I was catching between 4-5 hours a night for a week and that’s just not enough.  All of the books say you NEED between 8-9 hours a night to be healthy.  But what if it just won’t come?  What if you fall asleep just fine, but can’t stay there?  If I go to bed around 11and wake up at 7, that would be good.  But I don’t wake up at 7.  I wake up at 3 or 4, lay there until 5, get pissed and get up by 6.  Not every night, but a lot lately.


If I go to be earlier, say 9:30 or 10, I figured then I’d sleep longer.  Nope, up at 2. . .then play out the subsequent numbers yourself and end with me up and functioning poorly at 4!  So try later.  Midnight.  If I’m really, really tired. . .and can manage to not nap in the chair, then probably I’ll get at least 6 or 7 hours.  Until 4.  When I’m up again, wanting to call all of you who are playing the same damned game.


I don’t want to hate Himself, but that man can get up 5 times in the night to pee, flop right back down in bed and BAM he’s out like a light.  Usually with me staring at him and counting his every breath and snort.  It’s maddening!  It’s unfair.  It’s marriage.


I don’t keep a cell phone or computer in the bedroom, but I suddenly realized (don’t gotta hit me with a brick) that I am often on them very late into the night.  I’m watching TV, but also on Facebook, poking around, stirring up trouble or solving the problems of the world with my opinions and comments.  Didn’t know I was so powerful, did you?


So last night, exhausted, I told a friend early in the evening that I wasn’t going on the computer after 7 anymore.  Or watching the nightly news. Especially politics.  Or local news. . .6 children killed in a fire?  Who can sleep after hearing that?  Or texting, or chatting on the phone, or doing anything that interferes with my circadian rhythm.


Last night was the test.  I confess I reached for the computer a half dozen times, but stopped myself.  I fiddled with the mouse like a smoker clicking a lighter just be sure it still worked, in case I wouldn’t be strong enough to quit.  But I didn’t turn it on.


I went to bed at 10:30, got up once to use the facilities at round 2:30, then fell back to sleep. . .did you get that part?  I really need you to hear it.  I FELL BACK TO SLEEP. . .until 7:15.  That’s over eight hours, folks.  For me!  And I feel great today.


So the upshot of this way-too-long declaration is that if I haven’t posted my blog by 7 p.m. eastern time, don’t look for one until the next day.  If someone needs profound advice; or the world is in turmoil; or my immediate response is required or you are sure I never was your friend in the first place; or cats are lost; or people are leaving dogs in the cold; or politicians are being nimrods; or your pedicure polish stuck to your carpet, that’s too bad.


It’ll have to wait until morning.  Because I am logging off at 7 p.m.   Shutting down.  Debriefing my body and brain.  Preparing for sleep like I prepare for the holidays.  Play nice amongst yourselves.  I’ll be catching some ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ’s

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Character, Grace. . .Class


Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Today I am grateful for character and grace. . .with a huge smattering of “class”.  I will take the advice of my president and really listen to opposing viewpoints.  And I’ll rally and call officials and even watch the inauguration, because I want to understand.   I don’t want to be closed minded as I’ve accused others of being.  I will pray that we aren’t headed down a vortex of no return.

But my bottom line is that I am going to miss this entire family (even those silly dogs) more than is probably healthy for someone you have never met.  Each epitomizes character and grace. . .and most especially class.

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Mom is Better


Monday, January 09, 2017

Today I am grateful that my mom is marginally better. My sister called from the hospital and mom wanted to talk with me. It was the best conversation since the night before she went to the hospital. It’s as though a fog has lifted. I realize we are not out of the woods, because at 90 are you ever? But I am very grateful for this moment. . .for my sister. . .for me. . .and especially for my mom. Prayer works. Thank you one and all. FYI-This is my all-time favorite picture of her.


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