Contraption Crisis

Contraptions.

Can't live with 'em at times and can't live without 'em at others. Some contraptions have more importance attached to them than others. The failure of some provide a mere inconvenience; the failure of other contraptions produces weeping, wailing, the gnashing of teeth, hand wringing, hair pulling, Rumpelstiltskin-like movements and epithet hurling.

Clever humans have long been capable of contraption substitution. Pen doesn't work? Grab a pencil. Pencil sharpener doesn't work (or wasn't invented)? Use a sharp knife. Forget your toothbrush? Not to worry. Either call the front desk or use some toothpaste on your fingertip or wash cloth. Trekking through the mountains and no.......We'll skip that one. Can produce a rash. One of my personal faves that I've blogged about......No paper on which to jot down a note? Easy. Use the back of a receipt, the flap of an envelope, the inside of a cough drop wrapper (just used that one yesterday) or the bottom of the tissue box in the car. (I draw the line at writing on myself.) No cable service? Read a book.

Recipe-ingredient substitutions have been around for centuries.

Women could still substitute modern-day cosmetics for their original substances if they were desperate.

HOWEVER, today our treadmill became possessed by a demon - it is Halloween, after all - called ERROR #22. This demonic error caused the treadmill to go from a 3.8 MPH to a sudden and capitulative (my word) cessation of movement. Note that the word 'cessation' refers to the belt and motor - NOT the user. Fortunately I was able to catch my balance and was no worse for the wear, other than a very rapidly beating heart which was scared to death. (Figuratively, not literally, fortunately.)

This contraption crisis falls under the umbrella of a catastrophic event which can produce all of the above-mentioned reactions. I won't be English and develop a stiff-upper-lip attitude. I'll lay it all out right here, in my blog posting today.

WINTER IS FAST APPROACHING! I NEED MY TREADMILL BACK!

Making Our Voices Heard

Focus groups. Special-interest groups. Lobbyists. Attorneys.

All of these have one thing in common: They purport to represent someone or some group, with the express purpose of furthering a specific agenda or cause.

Take, for example, the AARP. Almost anyone you could meet, over fifty years of age, would be aware of the existence of the AARP. Retired people are a mighty group, significant in number, to be reckoned with. Every segment of society, other than maybe the American College of Obstetrics and Planned Parenthood, would see AARP as a formidable special interest group and actively seek their votes and support.

Depending on your political viewpoint, conservative or liberal special-interest groups could act as your voice on a number of social and judicial issues. We all would like to have our voice heard.

If you really want your voice heard just take a page from the operating manual of young children who are intent on making their voices heard in warehouse-style big-box stores. Sound is easily amplified and the reverberation foot pedal does not have to be turned on to achieve ear-splitting decibels. The only thing worse than being near said afflicted child is seeing the parent, whose mortified facial expression says it all.

I've always found the mental image of standing on an isolated mountain top, expressing myself at top volume, to be highly therapeutic. The only thing better than the mental image would be to actually be there, in person, in real time.

It kind of makes the expression "mountain-top experience" take on a whole new meaning, doesn't it?

Want to join me? We could put it on our 'bucket lists'.

Ancora imparo

A Familiar Ritual

Do you have familiar rituals that you engage in each day?

I think many of us do, although we might not describe the actions as a ritual.

If we were all Adrian Monk, the quirky, obsessive-compulsive detective character on the USA series, "Monk", we would observe many rituals per day. Monk can make a ritual out of most any common household task; washing dishes, drying dishes, hanging up his clothes, putting away groceries.....you name it and Monk has a ritual for it.

There can be great personal comfort in a ritual. Repetitive motions and actions provide us with a sense of security and comfort by doing a task the same way each time. For some, each day may begin with the ritual of prayer, meditation, and reading scripture. Others may start their day with exercise and meditation. The end of each day may have its own set of rituals such as reading from a book, taking a relaxing bath, soaking in a hot tub, journaling about the day, changing from work clothes to lounge-wear or that favorite robe or sweats.

For me, part of my end-of-day ritual is washing my face, taking out my contacts and changing from the day's clothing to some, old weathered article of clothing that shouts "Relax!". Those actions are like erasing all of the day's text on the whiteboard and starting from scratch, mentally and emotionally. The removal of my contact lenses is like a breath of fresh air to my eyes and provides me with an powerful energy boost.

If you do not have a practiced set of motions and activities for either the beginning or end of the day - maybe both - consider establishing a.m. and p.m. rituals. Yoga is a subtle relaxant and leveler for me, plus it provides my aging muscles with mobility that I sorely (no pun intended) need. Rituals ground us, help us keep our sanity and provide us with emotional and mental releases of a positive nature.

Oops, I forgot to include my rituals of reading the newspaper with coffee, blogging each day, eating chocolate, sitting in my dad's chair..........did I mention eating chocolate?

Ancora imparo

All Saints Day

All Saints Day is a day set aside to remember and honor 'those who have gone before us'. In many houses of worship, at least in the United States, deceased loved ones are recognized and remembered by 'those left behind'. This ceremony has never been particularly appealing nor comforting to me although I do recognize that it does serve as a comfort to others. Each to his or her own.

Because All Saints Day is fast approaching, it does though, serve as a reminder and memory-inducer of my family members and friends who have died. As with any family group and circle of friends, mine has had its fair share of the beloved, the strange, the nuts, the weird, the cherished, the not-so-wonderful-but-loved-anyway. In other words, 'normal'.

Perhaps we can all bring to mind a friend or relative who was most difficult, most of the time, but is one of the most memorable and loved people we have ever known. Maybe even more than one! Then there is the person or persons whom we miss on a daily basis and will continue to miss for the rest of our lives. Each one of us holds a pedigree of family and friends that is diverse, to say the least.

I keep wondering what category I will be held in some day.

Will it be the beloved, the strange, the nuts, the weird, the cherished, the not-so-wonderful-but-loved-anyway or all of the aforementioned?

If any reader has a present opinion, please keep it to yourself.

Ancora imparo

Just Imagine

The Beatles piece, "Imagine" is iconic in the music world. It gets significant airplay and is a familiar tune to most everyone. Simply hearing the melody, even without the lyrics, inspires our brains to transport us to other times and places. A current news story has given me pause to contemplate cause and effect of actions and reactions. In other words, my imagination has been activated.

As an educator who periodically was in charge of transporting large numbers of students, it was always foremost in my mind what a huge responsibility I had been given and, subsequently, accepted. I never took it lightly and all of my students always arrived, on time, safe and sound.

Imagine, if while on a bus trip to a competition, with twelve dozen or more young people - other people's children - under my supervision, I opened up my laptop and became engrossed in some game, program or app (as they are called today). The bus driver in the lead bus, my bus, has a question on how to get to our final destination and tries repeatedly to get my attention in order to ask a question regarding directions. I, concentrating deeply on my laptop, am unaware of the efforts to communicate with me and our bus contingency becomes lost. After the bus caravan drives aimlessly for a number of minutes, I re-engage myself into my surroundings, and direct the lead bus back on a course that eventually gets all of my students safely to the competition location, albeit forty-five minutes late. In the meantime, the parents have been waiting anxiously at the performance venue, wondering where their most precious possessions are.

Just imagine the deserved repercussions to me. Do you think for one moment that I would keep my job?

Ancora imparo

Serious Deficiency

Enough of the dark and gloomy weather! Edgar Allen Poe would be in his element and probably do some of his finest work if he was an artist in residence here, at this time. If this keeps up, I'll be able to write in Poe's genre and style. Literary critics will be unable to discern my writing from his.

I've suffered from obvious deficiencies my entire life. While yet in the pre-natal cabbage patch, my cabbage was deprived of nutrients and fertilizer, resulting in a smaller-than-usual cabbage that never grew like the others. My vertical growth has been stinted since day one.

Then, while in the pre-school cabbage patch, my row did not receive regular instruction on how to count our leaves or the leaves of other cabbages. Not one person, oops - gardener, ever said the words: "One, two, three, four, five, etc.". When the experts opine on nature versus nuture, I would be recognized as a failed experiment from both realms.

And, now, this further insult to my body...........a serious deprivation of Vitamin D.

Did you know that a lack of Vitamin D causes a person to: adopt a curmudgeonly demeanor, develop an etched scowl in the brow, ingest far too much caffeine in an effort to remain even somewhat alert, emit growling noises instead of speaking with words, sit in a chair within an arranged semi-circle of lamps in an effort to simulate sunshine, join the ladies' tatting auxiliary, or, the worst yet.....watch TVLand. When the Clampetts look good and the pig on Green Acres seems like a pet you'd like to have, you know that you've been without direct sunlight for too long.

Halloween is not very far away. If the sun doesn't shine soon, I'll have no trouble looking just like Yavonne DeCarlo.

"Dahling, I'll blog some more tomorrow."

Oh my gosh, the transformation has begun. I need sun and now!

Ancora imparo

The Loop

The Loop.

If you live in or travel through the Chicago, Illinois area with any regularity, you are familiar with 'The Loop', a downtown area of the Windy City.

In another context, 'the loop' is a nebulous state of being that you probably want to be in because to be out of 'the loop' means that you are not 'in the know' and this drives some people crazy. If one is not in 'the loop', it may also mean that, workplace-wise, you are missing information vital to your job-related survival. This, too, would drive some people crazy - and for good reason.

The other 'loop' with which I am very familiar is the loop (my term) that plays music in my head. I don't know if this is an affliction known only to musicians, although I suspect not, but it is a mental malady that drives me crazy. These musical snippets are almost always related to the music that is being prepared, or recently performed, by a musical group that I am directing. Often these note-worthy vignettes (pun intended) are from choral literature, so I have both words and music running in my brain. Fortunately, I direct a church choir, so the text is sacred in nature. At least I am not looping profane and violent text oft associated with gangsta rap.

I've spoken with other musicians who talk about this same phenomenon and they are equally as vexed as I. I don't think the music ever leaves my sub-conscious, although it may be coerced to a corner table by some other mental distraction, such as reading, having a conversation, or watching a movie or show on the tiny screen. There is usually a two-to-four measure excerpt playing over and over in my head each night when I commit weariness to the pillow. I'm my own stereo system!

Occasionally 'the loop' has bits and pieces of data that my brain is struggling to remember. I have learned, the hard way, that if this is occurring, I'd best get up, and write down whatever it is I think I need to retain. To not do this ensures that I will have a sleepless night with my brain wrestling itself in an attempt to maintain a grasp on a tiny byte of stored data. The little pad of paper and pen I keep at my bedside has saved me from many a sleep-deprived night.

Now that I've written about 'the loop', I wonder if this makes me loopy?

Some would nod in affirmation!

Ancora imparo

Power Assist

I was born and raised in a mid-American small town, smack in the middle of a rust-bucket state that has some of the best farm land in all of the United States. I was a 'townie', although there was little, if any, geographical separation from town to country. Growing up, my horizon was small and my perception of a long drive was vastly different then than it is now. Then, a twenty-minute ride seemed a lifetime; now, a twenty-minute drive is the norm, simply getting me from residence to shopping.

My father and mother left the farming life when I was five, moving to 'town' and leaving the agricultural-based, sporadic income behind for factory jobs that at least paid a predictable amount on a regular basis. Some of my family stayed in farming and are still trying to earn a living at it today. I spent large chunks of my pre-college life on my sister's farm, married a young man from a farming family and was thusly familiar with the terminology associated with agriculture. One of my biggest learning moments came in high school when I discovered that 'hundred weight' (as describing white beans in a commodities' report) did NOT mean per every hundred beans, which I had the misfortune to wonder aloud about during a meal with my brother-in-law and his sons.

An equipment term that I remember is the term 'power assist'. I know that it is mechanical in nature and its failure has a negative, domino-effect on the planting and harvesting processes. The power assist feature on equipment is everything and being without it is a deal buster.

Being without Power Assist in life is a deal buster as well. The power of prayer, which is my analogy to human Power Assist, is mighty and formidable. Indeed, there are times when prayer by one needs to be multiplied to the nth degree. I reached that conclusion last night
when we received word that TLV, who has been fighting germs for too many days, had yet another frustrating medical foosball thrown at him. His momma wasn't feeling too swell, either, and I decided it was time for a prayer-Power Assist. My feeble efforts were simply not doing the trick and I called upon friends and family to pray for TLV and his momma.

Will extra prayers help? I have to believe that they will because that is the nature of belief.
There are times, in our lives, when our prayer concerns are almost too overwhelming for one to comprehend and that is when a Power Assist is warranted. It is as if I've added more tractors to pull the combine through the fields.

I feel better already. I hope that TLV and his momma will, too.

Ancora imparo

Blame It On The Weather

The weather has been gloomy, dismal, and rainy with greyish skies for the past several days. Having had my fill of this tiresome weather pattern, I've found myself seeking indoor projects that can alleviate my meteorologically-induced funk. My desperation is evidenced by the shelves that I've dusted, closets and drawers that I've scoured looking for items to donate, word puzzles I've attempted and grumpy facial expression that my SO fears may become permanent if the sun does not reappear soon.

The absence of the sun's rays streaming in my windows has also lent itself to my brain searching for stimulation. Reading my beloved newspaper or listening to network or cable news stations reinforces the notion that our nation is focused on a smallish number of news items. If a foreigner scanned news sources for the highlights, he or she could come to the conclusion that our attention is currently directed towards the economy, undeserved corporate bonuses, Afghanistan, health-care reform, the Olympia Snow 'defection', and, lastly, the flu virus.

It is on this last point that my mind became fascinated with the word flu. I realized that by pronouncing the word flu, I could also mean flue or flew. Now I really had my own attention. Becoming bored with cleaning, dusting, and reorganizing, I decided to do some investigation toward personal improvement and began searching for the term that describes words that are pronounced the same but have different spellings.

Certain that readers of this blog will share my immense enthusiasm for learning, I'll share what I gleaned from my quest for knowledge. (Please note that there is some disagreement among sources that should know about that which they claim to be expert.)

Words that share the same pronounciation regardless of how they are spelled are called homophones. Homophones that are spelled differently are heterographs. Examples of common heterographs would be to,two, too OR there, their, and they're.

I hope readers are pleased, too, with my results of finding at least two examples of words they can relate to. There will be further blogs relating their familiar words when they're are ready.

Ahhh. We'll all sleep better tonight!

Ancora imparo

Mediocrity Is Never An Option

Mediocrity is among us. We find it in retail stores' employees' actions, we can most definitely see it in the service industry, state and federal bureaucrats embody it, we find it in our educational systems all too often, and many houses of worship turn a blind eye to mediocrity week after week.

I will argue that our nation is becoming a poster-child for mediocrity. For those individuals who persist in paying attention to details, we describe them as 'anal attentive'. What a sad, derogatory term for people who strive to do their best. We deride people who routinely follow-up, crossing the t's and dotting the i's. When did it become the norm to chide and ridicule a person for seeking excellence?

I was recently part of a discussion group regarding an organization to which I belong. The purpose of this series of meetings was to further ascertain strengths and weaknesses plus collect ideas for improvement. An element of weakness for this organization is that it has come to accept mediocrity and average as the new excellent. In my former life as an educator, if I would have experimented on my students with technological devices and other dispersed tools, only to have my students endure painful and time-wasting glitches with each attempt, I'd have been relieved of my position in no time. The moment to be discovering problems is long before you introduce the application to your 'audience'.

Let's banish 'mediocrity' from our collective vocabularies and return to pride of ownership, effort,outcome and workmanship.

Ancora imparo

Take A Cue From A Cat

Cats. Can't live with 'em and can't live without 'em.

Humans, and their relationships with cats, come in one of two categories: Love or hate. Even those who love cats may still have difficulty understanding them. It is my private observation that cats don't even understand themselves. Quirky and mercurial - two adjectives that tell the feline story in a bi-nut shell.

As readers of this blog know, I live with a feline, Frances, who is tres quirky and mercurial. She possesses characteristics, if she were human, that would have her on a psychoanalyst's couch for her lifetime. For that matter, just being her owner gives me the urge to recline on a psychoanalyst's couch for her lifetime.

However, in defense of Frances (I can't believe I'm writing this.), I have encountered two other cats that make Frances' behavior seem 'normal'. (Normal - now there is a good topic to opine upon.) These two psycho-kitties, both male, have the smile-now, eat-you-later personality trait of their wild forebearers. I recently spent a multitude of hours around one of these 'psycho kitties', which gave me pause to consider just how 'normal' Frances is. By observing the behavior of cats, and there is some predictability in their unpredictability, I can say, with out a doubt, that cats handle stressful situations far better than their human companions.

I am not defending a cat's predisposition for attacking any live thing it sees when it is stressed - although I can see that by attacking a perceived adversary, the ability to scare the @#^ out of the 'prey' gives a decidedly tilted advantage to the cat. But you have to give a cat his due for the element of surprise when, just after rubbing your leg in a fake-out move, the cat then performs a blitzkrieg maneuver, leaping at your leg, grasping fabric with claws, its teeth seeking flesh beneath pant leg - only to instantly retreat hissing to a corner just inches away from you. Talk about conflicted!

The cue that I have learned from cats is that when they are stressed, scared, mad or otherwise behaving as cats do, they prefer to find a dark, secluded spot in which to feign hiding. It doesn't matter to the cat that half of their body may be visible; if the cat's head is hidden, then the cat feels more safe and secure. This ostrich-like move is one that I may try when enduring a stressful period in my life.

My psycho-kitty is, at least, predictable in her conflicted, Freudian feline behavior. She growls, hisses, and attempts to bite on a regular basis but she does so with the advance notice of a few micro-seconds.

Gives me just enough time to remove myself from the danger zone.

Ancora imparo

Watching Paint Dry

Have you ever sat and watched paint dry? I never have but watching paint dry is certainly an analogy for sitting through or observing purely boring activities. Actually, as I think through life, we experience hundreds of boring activities that we either inflict on ourselves due to responsibility or commitment or others inflict upon us and we endure those situations because we are imbued with the politeness gene.

Have you ever been in a situation where, as a participant or observer, you felt as if you were watching paint dry? I was recently caught in one of those awkward moments where there was no graceful escape and I survived by creating internal visualizations of Asian Beetle races, margaritas and sunny beaches, shredding personal documents, and cleaning out my coat closet.

The dilemma surrounding a paint-drying-moment is that the creators of such an event are well-meaning individuals, often well-known to us. Consequently we plaster on a cheery smile, we express words of thanks and support and we leave with deep teeth indentations in our tongues........the latter if we are smart.

My tongue is still healing. At the very least, I must be certain to NEVER orchestrate and inflict a paint-drying moment on others. Noodle-lash me if I do!

Ancora imparo

Woid of the Day

On his weekly television show, the late, great Groucho Marx had a segment where a card would drop down and he would announce "the word of the day". Of course, Groucho's inflection caused the word 'word' to sound like woid, which was part of his charm and schtick.

My woid of this day is schism. To allow the reader to fully appreciate what schism means, I will quote from the source of Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, eleventh edition, page one thousand, one hundred and ten: n. 1. DIVISION, SEPARATION; also : DISCORD, DISHARMONY 2. a: formal division in or separation from a church or religious body b.: the offense of promoting schism

What application could schism have to the content of this blog?

Well, going from the sublime to the ridiculous would go something like this: To split a bagel, to split an ice cream sundae, separating the milk to render cream, to tear fabric, the medical procedure to separate Siamese twins, or to end a friendship or relationship.

There is no gentle application about the word schism. In its simplest form, even the bagel gets separated and the cream gets created. If the word gets applied to human behavior, schism takes on an entirely different meaning - one that is totally undesirable.

I'll take my schism on a bagel with cream, thank you.

Ancora imparo

Put It In The Box

If you follow any national news, it has been hard to miss the story about the boy in the balloon. A few decades ago, it was the boy in the bubble, but, times being what they are, we've elevated our news topics and now we have this strange and sad story coming from a western state. To intentionally repeat myself, this story is strange and sad on so many levels that I would not begin to presume to comment any further than to say to some of the principals in this incident, "Shame on you."

Having said that, I do see that there is one positive take-away and that is the fascinating concept of 'box-communication', which I envision to be highly useful in many situations.

Consider how this communication tool could re-charge marital relationships. Questions regarding where articles of clothing are or where some illusive container of food is hiding in the refrigerator (usually husband-to-wife inquiries) could simply be directed "to the box" until such time as the recipient of the question either cares to or has time to reflect upon the appropriate response. Conversely, if a wife-to-husband query such as "The washing machine is over-flowing. Can you come and look at it?", were to be voiced, hubby could also direct the question "to the box".

Parents of teenagers could use this technique to their advantage when teens ask to take the family vehicle out for the evening.

Politicians were really the pioneers of this method of communing with their constituents or members of the press corps. Pols have been side-stepping responses until their handlers can feed them the answers since Roman times.

Just in case readers of this blog wonder how I come up with topics................................
"Put it in the box. I'll get back to you later."

Ancora imparo

Where The Thoughts Are

"Where are my thoughts today?", I asked myself this morning.

That was an easy question to answer because a short while ago my SO and I had a conversation about friends and that is where my thought-center was still focused as I sat down to commune with my laptop.

As is the norm, thinking about friends generated questions, most of which are rhetorical, but the process of searching out answers provided insight. "What is a friend"? "Who are my friends?" "Where are my friends?" "When does a person become a 'friend'?" "Why do I need friends?" (You see, the who, what, when, where and why questions used in journalistic stories apply here, too.)

A few months ago the Readers' Digest included a page of quotes on friendship that I thought was worthy of saving. I tore it out and it has been secured at eye-level in front of me in my office area. These quotes speak to friendship far more eloquently that I ever could so I'll share a few of my favorites in this posting.

"You find out who your real friends are when you're involved in a scandal." Elizabeth Taylor

"It's the ones you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter." Marlene Dietrich

"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." Walter Winchell

"Everybody wants to ride with you in the limo, but what you need is somebody who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down." Oprah Winfrey

"You can always tell a real friend. When you've made a fool of yourself, he doesn't feel you've done a permanent job." Laurence J. Peter

"A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked." Bernard Meltzer (radio host and personality)

I hope I have given you readers some food for thought and sources of smiles for today.

Ancora imparo

Curmudgeon Recognition

Yesterday I wrote about National Bosses' Day, which will be observed tomorrow. Today I opened up my newspaper to discover that today is National Grouch Day and this is one observance I simply could not resist commenting on.

Just think.....all of the grumpy, curmudgeonly, bellyachers of the world have a day set aside just to honor them. Well, maybe not honor but, most certainly, it gives the rest of the world reason to ponder grouches, curmudgeons, and bellyachers......which is what I have been doing.

To begin, allow me to ponder what makes a person grouchy?
I cannot speak for anyone other than myself but here are some things that make me ornery and grouchy:

• Calling a national customer service number and being connected to a service representative that cannot communicate effectively with me
• Hiding a cookie in the freezer and having someone else find it and eat it
• My feet finding cat litter on the floor
• My cat trying to bite me when I brush her long hair
  
• People who are too lazy to properly prepare their paper recycling on a windy night. In the morning, their paper has blown all over everyone else's property.
• The fall smolderers. These are the people who do not know how to burn leaves properly and who have never heard of the wonders of what water from a garden hose can do to put out leaf fires. And we wonder why burning ordinances have to be enacted?
• People who park diagonally across two parking spaces
• Not standing when singing hymns in church
• Not having printed music to sing to during praise-music services
• People who pronounce "Illinois" as "Ellinois". Let's get our vowel sounds correct
• Yard-care workers who do a haphazard job of removing leaves. No, it is not OK to leave leaves all over the shrubbery.
• Over-sized boxes filled with too many packing peanuts that some companies use to ship tiny contents
• The incorrect usage of the asterisk in a church bulletin
• Spam email
• Spam snail mail
• Growing older. I am becoming my grandparents, who were not reserved when it came to expressing their opinions. Very scary.

Did anything on my list resonate with you? I'd love to hear what would be on my readers' lists?

Ancora imparo

Bosses' Day

This morning I noticed that 'National' Bosses' Day is just two days away. I once was vigilant about the date of this now-yearly 'observance', but since I presently have no boss other than myself, I do not pay attention to when the 'National Card Company' says we should mark the date. It is, after all, the 'National Card Company' that controls what holidays and other special days we observe, playing on our sense of guilt if we collectively do not spend billions of our hard-earned dollars on what? Candy, flowers, CARDS, postage and the like - just because a Fortune 500 Company says we should?

To 'fess up, I always had a little 'something' (usually baked) for my boss on Bosses' Day. Not that I felt obligated - because I did not, but rather because I believed (and still do) that decent bosses should be rewarded for being just that - decent. There are too many people in charge of workers that have no business, expertise, experience or desire to manage others. Even 'good' bosses (and I do realize that this is a subjective term) have bad days. We all do.

It would be presumptuous of me to describe a 'good' boss because that is an individual determination. But I do remember why I enjoyed some bosses (seventeen, that I can remember) more than others during the course of my career. I connected best with the boss who had a sense of humor, wasn't afraid of a strong-personalty female, gave praise when it was deserved and constructive criticism when necessary, supported me in public (even if I was chewed upon later in private), was capable of holding a point-counterpoint conversation, could disagree fairly, and could acknowledge if I had the better idea.

Admittedly, this description fits only a small percentage of supervisory personnel, but I have had the privilege of working with a few of the best. I miss the repartee' of the workplace and the built-in chance to say "Happy Bosses' Day".

Ancora imparo

On the Lighter Side

Middle-age. Heart-health. Low-fat. Low-cholesterol. No-fat. Good carbs-bad carbs. Cholesterol medication. Supplements.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My head is swimming in useless informational junk from print ads, fliers that come in the mail, television commercials, television talk show guests, books for sale, and magazine articles - just to name a few. Our society is bombarded by health tips, warnings, procedures, pleas, caveats, disclaimers, etc. regarding what we should or should not eat or ingest, chew or digest, inhale or exhale................

I'm exhausted by just thinking about health. Then the insurance industry adds to the melee' by holding the public hostage about our personal health, pre-existing conditions, denial of coverage or claims, and cancellation of existing policies.

I feel like the laboratory rat who is living in the proverbial shoe box, scurrying from corner to corner, waiting for the next morsel to be dropped in or the next experimental drug to be injected.

If I see one more commercial for butter, cream, cheese, bacon or sausage that will make the planets line up again, I'll be throwing bananas at my television screen and jumping up and down. That sounds better than living in a shoe box and waaaay more culinary fun.

Here's to fat and its role in flavor and taste. Bring it on!

Ancora imparo

Outside My Area of Expertise

I was asked, today, if I had ever considered going back to school and receiving training to become a therapist or social worker. I was polite and thanked the individual making the statement - outwardly. Inwardly I chuckled to myself, thinking that was the most incongruous idea I'd ever heard. Here's why.

My generation grew up with some pretty extrinsic methods of discussion or demonstrating sought-after behavior. If these physical or verbal expressions were used today by an individual, that person would run the risk of becoming the focal point of a lawsuit, being 'unfriended' on social-networking sites, or, perhaps, being arrested.

Take for example the archaic practice of the affronted wife grabbing the earlobe of the offending husband and dragging the chagrined man to a chair where he would receive a tongue-lashing. This scenario happened frequently in Sixties and Seventies sit-coms, but in real-life today? Fugedaboudit.

During my formative years if I was crying and making a fuss one or both of my parents would announce to me that I should stop blubbering or they'd give me something to cry about. Not real empathic. Effective? Yes. In real-life today? Fugedaboudit.

How about the attitude towards women that many men in my father's generation espoused? "Keep 'em barefoot and pregnant." Neanderthal? Most certainly. Disrespectful? Definitely. In real-life today? Fugedaboudit.

What relationships today are based upon, I do not know. The relationships of yore were often based upon "Me Tarazan, You Jane" - a familial structure that would, nor should, never fly between contemporary adults. Today's relationships often seem constructed out of sand, much like the house in the Bible that washed away. I don't know where the happy medium is but I am too old to go back to school and find out. I'll leave that to the anthropologists. If we study a few more primates we'll figure things out anyway. In the meantime, let's just jump up and down and throw bananas at one another.

Perhaps I should fugedaboudat as well.

Ancora imparo

All In One Weekend?

This has been a weekend of contrasts.

Snuggling with two beloved grandchildren has been a highlight.

TLV is bright and conversational, cuddly and independent, goofy and sweet, smart and deliberately clueless, quiet and able to move at the speed of light. Sometimes all at once! His most endearing trait is that he loves the cookies that I bake. That is one way to be sure to have a life-time supply of cookies, young man!

His sister, TLVLS, gave the Olympic performance of her life - all two-and-one-half-months of it. She decided this was the weekend she'd delight her audiences with the feat of flipping from her back to her tummy. She attempted the feat dozens of times with a fierce determination. Once she accomplished her goal, she immediately let those around her know that it was time to return to her back. Placed on her back, she began the entire process again. It was, for her and us, like the movie, Groundhog's Day. Repetition, repetition, repetition or etc., etc., etc. Fun and amazing to watch.

My SO and I were also able to enjoy the company of TLV's and TLVLS's parents as well. They are the sort of individuals that you love to see come and hate to see go - as opposed to those whom you dread to see arrive and when they leave you breathe a sigh of relief.

I heard an amazing concert from a woman that I am very close to. She reminds me of Beethoven, reincarnated. I was in awe of her performance.

Another woman that I am very close to took a serious tumble this past weekend and now her family is, understandably, quite concerned. That is how families behave when one of their own is injured or puts him or herself in jeopardy somehow.

'Nuf said. I'm ready to face the week ahead. May you be, too.

Ancora imparo

I'm Speechless

Dear Readers:

It is with humility and amazement that I share my astounding news with you.

Early this morning I was awakened by phone from Europe, informing me that I have been awarded the 2009 Pythagoras Award for Mathematics. When the phone call ended, my SO appeared both proud and troubled. He hugged me and expressed surprise, neither of us realizing that I had been in consideration for the coveted award. Feeling slightly embarrassed and overwhelmed,I paused for a moment to consider how he must feel. For, you see, he is a brilliant mathematician, while I, on the other hand, am still struggling to accept the Order of Operations, with which I do not agree. I believe it is the very public discourse on which I have set, regarding the clumsy and unrealistic tenets of the Order of Operations, that brought the globe's attention to my work and, thusly, the World Council of Mathematicians, whose job it is to ferret out deserving individuals such as myself.

Later this year my family and I will travel to the tiny island of Samos, off the coast of Turkey, where Pythagoras spent his early years. In a tiny shack, walls filled with Pythagorean Theory, (that my SO and son will explain to me) I will receive this prestigious award. I am certain that I should feel a sense of chagrin and sheepishness having this honor bestowed up me, one who decries the existence of math almost daily, but I will smile broadly and deliver my exceptionally written speech - a speech that is sure to leave the world a better place.

Next year I anticipate receiving the 2010 World Oration Award. When I do, you'll be the first to know.

I will sign off, for I now need surgery to repair the hole in my cheek, caused by the force of my tongue protruding from it.

Ancora imparo

Where's The Consistency?

The Supreme Court will be hearing a case regarding allowing a VFW Post to place a cross at a war memorial site. Prior to the highest court in our land agreeing to hear the case, lower courts have denied the VFW the right to place the cross, saying that the act crosses the line of separation of church and state.

What I find totally inconsistent is that in Washington D.C., our nation has the ultimate burial site for honoring those who lost their lives, either during active service to the United States, or those who defended their country and later died. I have never been to the Arlington National Cemetery, only seeing pictures or images on television. Even then, I am always struck by the rows upon rows of crosses placed at the grave of each person who has been interred there. The stark image of the white crosses conveys a solemnity that does not need words to be understood.

Crosses.

That is what our nation has chosen to mark the graves of those men and women who served their country and whose families, or at times, the government itself, have elected to have their loved ones buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Crosses.

I don't get it.

Ancora imparo

Please Be Gentle

Please forgive me if my memory is not what it used to be.

I know it is not because half of the time, I cannot remember what I couldn't remember. The other half I am quick to retrieve useless information from my brain at a nano-second's notice. Does this make any sense to you?

At the moment, my desk is cluttered with newspaper/magazine articles that I cut out because there was some morsel of information that I thought might be useful. No matter that the need for that information may not come for ten to twenty years. My brain identified the nugget of information and I followed through on that thought by removing the paper from its original place. Now I have all of these papers, some big and some very small, spread about my workspace, begging to have their contents retrieved and catalogued.

I know if I begin sorting through these scraps of paper there will be some where the original reason for saving the paper will escape me, perhaps for eternity. Those will get 'deep-sixed', going to the paper recycling heaven. The other slips/scraps will become dutifully logged, perhaps in my Outlook task file, (that my SO shakes his head at each unnecessary time he sits at my computer), waiting to be useful one day. (That's the paper, not my SO.)

I wonder what will become hopelessly full first? My brain, my desk, or my paper recycling container.........worse yet, all three! I can see my afternoon task........clearing synapses, spaces, and places.

If I repeat this posting tomorrow, please be gentle when you tell me.

Ancora imparo

Inspiration

Occasionally a quote or a phrase from text will catch my eye and, subsequently my brain, providing much needed inspiration. Such was the case yesterday as I was preparing for an evening rehearsal. The quote, attributed to Theodore Hesburgh, a former President of Notre Dame University is as follows:

"The essence of leadership is a vision you articulate clearly and forcefully on every occasion. You can't blow an uncertain trumpet."

What struck me was the depth and many facets of Hesburgh's words. On one level it speaks directly to anyone in a leadership role, no matter the place, institution, or venue. I believe there is even a message for those in relationships or individuals searching for themselves.

At times we lead others and, at times, we must lead ourselves. My take-a-way from this quote was that I must exhibit consistency, both in my professional roles and personal roles. As a confidant once advised me about driving through Chicago - pick a lane and stick with it. Does this mean that I should eschew flexibility? Absolutely not! What this quote does affirm is that I must believe what I say I believe. If I am to mentor others and inspire myself, I must blow my trumpet with certainty and confidence. I do not believe that Hesburgh was implying that we should toot our own horns. His words were not a clarion call for egotism or hubris but rather a validation of another phrase that I have printed on a poster in my office - author listed as anonymous:

If you want to lead the orchestra you have to turn your back on the crowd.

I believe that Hesburgh would approve of this thought as well. He just might add that you cannot effectively lead the orchestra if you are constantly checking out the crowd's reaction.

Blow your trumpet with certainty.

Ancora imparo

Pairings

This is National Newspaper Week and for those of you who know me well, you are aware of how fond I am of my daily newspaper. Perhaps fond is not the best verb to describe my attachment to the ritual of reading a newspaper. I have an almost primal urge to read the newspaper each day, savoring the kinesthetics of turning the pages and the tactile nature of hand touching newsprint. (OK, so I'm a bit weird.)

My local newspaper has been running an ad the past few days espousing the lure of " a newspaper and coffee". I can identify with the ad because that is a heady and alluring combination for me. This ad took my brain to other combinations - pairings, if you will - that I find personally irresistible. Maybe you will find some of your favorites on my list.

The listing of these pairing does not imply any endorsement nor statement of healthy versus non-healthy.

Fruit and chocolate
Milk and cookies
Dinner and a movie
Fish and chips
Peanut butter and jelly
Cake and ice cream
Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet
Hot dogs and beans
Coffee and cream
Tea and crumpets
Bacon and eggs
Salt and pepper
Soup and a sandwich
Pickles and ice cream
Meat and potatoes
Bread and butter
Flowers and candy
Popcorn and a movie
Peanut butter and chocolate
Potatoes and gravy
Biscuits and gravy
Turkey and dressing
Cheese and crackers
Bread, cheese and wine
Milk and cereal
Butter and toast
Sugar and cinnamon
Peaches and cream
Macaroni and cheese
Chips and salsa
Pancakes and syrup
Bagels and lox
Bagels and cream cheese
Bacon, lettuce and tomato
Pork and beans
Toast and jam
Bagels and blintzes
Cheese and mushrooms
Sausage and pepperoni
Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions........
Chicken and biscuits

Oh my. I just made myself very hungry and I've just scratched the surface. I'm certain that this list could become lengthy if a group of people sat down and brainstormed additional pairings. I've just amazed myself at how many pairing phrases we use in every day speech and print that involve food.

I think I should stick with a newspaper and coffee. Fewer calories.

Ancora imparo

Horn Happy

The sixty-minute drive north is normally an uneventful route, interstate all the way, and a good opportunity to listen to public radio - either talk or classical music. I like to get a large coffee from the Golden Arches and prepare to relax in the confines of my automobile's comfy interior. I know "the way to San Jose" like the back of my hand.

Today was a perfect driving day. Partly sunny or partly cloudy - depending on your perspective - no rain, no snow - yet, and a week day, so heavy traffic was not a high probability. The color snippets from the maple trees is just beginning to tease the eye and I was not disappointed in that regard.

What I did encounter was a few horn-happy drivers. Horn cacophony came twice from semi-trucks. The horn blasts were long and repeated and accompanied by sudden brake lights. Both times, I was immediately behind the aggrieved trucker and could not see why or to whom the horn blasts were directed. Fortunately, I am not a tailgater and I was able to quickly react to the unexpected brake lights in front of me. Perhaps more fortunate for me, was the fact the the driver on my tail was able to react to my sudden brake lights. Such is life on the interstate.

What I did not expect was what happened when, on my return trip home, I pulled off the interstate at my exit and halted my forward motion at the stop sign. Waiting for traffic from my left to clear so I could make my right hand turn, I sat through the semi in front of me making his turn, and then three vehicles approaching from my left. Suddenly the SUV behind me began blaring his horn.......at me. My first reaction was to turn into the one lane available until I realized, at this juncture, that lane is for right hand turns only and I needed to go straight through the intersection. The rude man behind me continued to lay on his horn but I held my own until I could pull into the correct lane. Various reactions, both verbal and physical, came as inspirations to me. Just as I began my turn, I did shake my finger at him vigorously (my index finger, mind you). As you might expect, as soon as I made my turn he roared past me from behind and I took the opportunity to shake my finger at him one last time.

I know, I know. Scolding a fellow driver is not effective - what-so-ever........but it did make me feel better.

I hope it wasn't anyone I know!

Ancora imparo

That Time of Year

OK, so the summer is officially over. I would instinctively know this even if the calendar hadn't printed the fact after September 21st. Here are the Top Ten ways I know summer has passed:

Number One: The poignancy returns each August (and stays for a couple of months) that I do not step into my classroom once again.

Number Two: The days are noticeably shorter, a fact that takes some adjustment on my part regarding what time it is and gosh....I forgot to make dinner!

Number Three: The house has a delicious coolness to it, without an assist from the air conditioner.

Number Four: The leaves are beginning their dazzling array of color-teasing.

Number Five: It is harder to poke my head out from under the warmth of the bedcovers in the morning.

Number Six: The boat gets put to 'bed' this week.

Number Seven: Some morning walks now require gloves and ear muffs.

Number Eight: Those annoying toy commercials are already airing - with children's Christmas lists in mind.

Number Nine: Halloween displays have been in stores for several weeks now. Also annoying.

The Top Ten reason I know that summer has passed is that my favorite Apple Orchard has my favorite doughnuts ready to eat. Due to my advancing age and cholesterol levels that are out-pacing my age, I can only eat one doughnut per year. But that one doughnut I will eat and enjoy.

May all of you enjoy your doughnut, too!

Ancora imparo

A Lesson In Patience

I am a living dichotomy regarding patience.

On the one hand, classroom teaching taught me patience to the highest degree. I learned that patience must be doled out in the greatest proportions to the students who seem to deserve it the least. An early career managing adult volunteers in several venues also proved useful toward the skill of patience. Unfortunately, the ability to call upon instantaneous patience did not always morph into my home life, as I'm sure my children and SO would so attest.

Today I can be consumed with patience upon personal demand. I have pockets of life that either require patience or automatically produce a calm, centered approach to whatever or whoever I am with.

On the other hand, I am developing the trait of impatience toward too many tasks or situations.

For example, on this day I have multiple cleaning tasks that must be accomplished......no choice in the matter. But one of them is testing my patience to the max. Cleaning carpeting in a small, confined space on a very rainy day is vexing, to say the least. Small sections must be done at a time but a spray application has to be applied before scrubbing and must set into the carpet fibers for about three minutes before hand-cleaning. Possibilities for ventilation are limited due to the rain. Consequently, my SO and I are coughing and sneezing. And to think we have to sleep in this very space tonight!

This makes me very impatient.

Next will come defrosting (on my knees) two small refrigerators and a freezer. More waiting - more loss of patience.

Therefore, I sign off today lacking patience. If any reader has some to send my way, I'd greatly appreciate it. May you have more than I!

Ancora imparo

Bad Deal

Being a garden neophyte can be a bad deal. I am familiar with most vegetables, having eaten just about everything edible as a child. My father was an avid, almost rabid gardener and by default, my mother was an avid, almost rabid canner and freezer of vegetables, fruits and meats. As I said, if it was edible, my family ate it. (You may recall a posting where I mentioned that the color of the food was not the predetermining factor for consuming a food in our household - no matter the age. The odor of the food determined whether or not my mother served it at mealtime.)

While dad grew a multitude of vegetables in his very large garden, we were not a family accustomed to any variety of spices. Our spice and herb world was confined to ground black pepper, salt, maybe thyme and marjoram, cinnamon, dill weed and bay leaves. Spicy foods or foods considered to be 'hot' were not made available to our palates. Consequently, consuming hot-spicy dishes has been limited to my adulthood. As an acquired taste, I'm developing a fondness for and tolerance to those types of dishes VERY SLOWLY, if at all.

Here comes the take-home part of this posting.

This summer a friend of ours, who has a huge garden, kindly shared some very mild banana peppers with us that were delicious. I naively assumed that all peppers that are shaped like those, with the same coloration, taste alike.

Not.

Last Saturday my SO and I visited a local farmers' market. I spied some peppers that looked like the ones our friend had shared with us so I bought a few. Fast forward to the first night we returned to the boat from meeting Gale Storm. I cut up two banana peppers and added the pieces to the salads I'd prepared. Then I declared that my eyes were tired and I would go remove my contacts.

Can you see where this story is going?

I began my contact-removing routine which involves putting the tip of two fingers in my eye............

Of course, I had no idea that pepper oil would remain on my fingers and could produce a burning sensation on sensitive tissue. Rinsing my hands was clearly not effective in removing the pepper oil and for the next fifteen minutes I was an eye-flushing and hand-scrubbing fool with soap, water and contact solution. The good news is that after my frenetic efforts, the burning sensation dissipated and my eyes returned to normal.

Please learn from my bad deal. Then again, perhaps most others already knew what I so painfully learned!

Ancora imparo