My iPod has a defective battery. It was born with this defect and I have learned that it is easier to adapt to its deficiency rather than try to get the manufacturer to help remedy the problem. Since I've owned the iPod for four years, I've become accustomed to the necessity of having to charge it frequently. It loses power quickly and, if I am not attentive to the battery-power indicator, I will find myself out of luck when it comes to completing a workout with music.
I remembered, today, that I should check on my iPod's battery and, sure enough, it was out of power. Fortunately, I just plug it into my laptop and the connective cable allows the transfer of power from my laptop to the little device.
As with most tasks I tackle, this one made me think.........about how I recharge myself. If only self-energizing was as simple as connecting my body or brain to a device with a power cord. Nature takes care of our basic energizing need by making us sleepy. If we humans are smart, we either take a nap if our energy disappears during the day,or go to bed for the night when we can no longer keep our eyes open. There are prescription drugs and over-the-counter products to counteract our bodies' innate need for sleep.....which is so fascinating because there are prescription drugs and over-the-counter products to help those who have trouble sleeping. Such a contradiction, is it not?
Besides the obvious re-charging method of good old-fashioned sleep, there are other ways we power-up our internal batteries when they get low, but most methods can work differently for each person. For some, the shower invigorates while others find showers relaxing. Exercise gives some energy while it exhausts others. The act of reading can bring both relaxation (and dozing!) and re-invigoration.
I get a jolt of energy from exercise if it is accompanied by loud music, loud music of any kind will give me a boost of inner power that is inexplicable, sitting on the lower deck of our aqua RV while it is underway is incredibly relaxing, and watching the cardinals cavort in my backyard brings peace which usually results in a fresh feeling of vigor and vitality.
Just as I have thought about those activities which renew my internal enthusiasm, I hope that those who read this will give thought to ways to energize themselves. January is almost behind us and the winter doldrums are far from over. We must survive February's promise of more cold and snow and then March enters with the 'dirties', as I call the days when the snow is melting and everything looks gray and dirty until we are rescued by April.
Let's all plug in our power cord.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Speaking Bones
The voices of my dearly departed mother and maternal grandmother are resonating in my head this morning. I hear them saying, as clear as day, "I can feel it in my bones." They were not referring to bones that ached and creaked, but, rather, intuition. Well, my bones are speaking to me, loudly and distinctly ......... I am about to become over-extended.
Have you ever felt (or actually been) over-extended?
We all fall prey to this fascinating phenomenon of 'can't say no' at one time or another. I have been over-extended before and this will not be my last over-extension, but it has been a long time since I have placed myself in this position, AND, I do know that it is I that got myself here and no one else. I am hoping that, this time around, I am a bit smarter and wiser about managing my time and pacing myself during the next few months.
Just this very morning, I committed myself to participating in an event that is well worth my time and energy. Although the event is weeks away, it was my affirmative response that turned on my over-extension radar. Strange that my mind could not make the connection BEFORE I said yes, but once the 'yes' was sent, I instinctively knew what I had done.
All for good causes and all to help out others that need a 'boost' right now in their lives. My heart knows these are 'right' choices but my bones are telling me a differing story.
Max, I need you.
Ancora imparo
Have you ever felt (or actually been) over-extended?
We all fall prey to this fascinating phenomenon of 'can't say no' at one time or another. I have been over-extended before and this will not be my last over-extension, but it has been a long time since I have placed myself in this position, AND, I do know that it is I that got myself here and no one else. I am hoping that, this time around, I am a bit smarter and wiser about managing my time and pacing myself during the next few months.
Just this very morning, I committed myself to participating in an event that is well worth my time and energy. Although the event is weeks away, it was my affirmative response that turned on my over-extension radar. Strange that my mind could not make the connection BEFORE I said yes, but once the 'yes' was sent, I instinctively knew what I had done.
All for good causes and all to help out others that need a 'boost' right now in their lives. My heart knows these are 'right' choices but my bones are telling me a differing story.
Max, I need you.
Ancora imparo
Friday, January 29, 2010
It's Everywhere
Ambient - meaning to exist or be present on all sides.
We all know about ambient light. It is what gives a city its eerie night-glow that can be seen in the horizon for miles away. If approaching a city or town in a vehicle or boat through relatively remote territory, ambient light is visible with the intensity of a billion glow sticks. A friend of mine complains that her bedroom is awash in unwelcome ambient light, during the night, since a gas station was erected next to a freeway on/off ramp near her home. With our ever-reaching urban areas constantly expanding, ambient lighting is a fact of modern life. When I have been in a geographic area that is isolated from human inhabitants, the stark darkness is startling. The galaxy's candle power is seemingly magnified a million-fold compared to the sky when gazing at it from a city location.
It is hard to escape ambient lighting. It is also difficult to avoid ambient noise.
Ambient noise creeps into our daily living with surreptitious ease. Many of the appliances that we take for granted in our respective worlds come with standard whizzes, whirs, chirps, burps, and dings. A gas, air-flow furnace is the obvious winner for creating background noise that we become accustomed to. The air conditioner is a close second in the winner category. My oven is exceptionally noisy as is the microwave. We won't even discuss the sound that the diesels make when our aqua RV is underway.
As I was ultra-sensitive to ambient noise today, I was taken back, in my memory, to past visits to the North Channel of Lake Huron when we are 'on the hook' (or at anchor) in some secluded nook and cranny of the many inlets there. The sound of silence is almost deafening and you can actually hear your own inhalations and exhalations.
I think I need to get back to the North Channel, if only in my mind.
Do you have a 'North Channel' place that you can go to for escape from ambient noise and light?
Let's go together, shall we?
Ancora imparo
We all know about ambient light. It is what gives a city its eerie night-glow that can be seen in the horizon for miles away. If approaching a city or town in a vehicle or boat through relatively remote territory, ambient light is visible with the intensity of a billion glow sticks. A friend of mine complains that her bedroom is awash in unwelcome ambient light, during the night, since a gas station was erected next to a freeway on/off ramp near her home. With our ever-reaching urban areas constantly expanding, ambient lighting is a fact of modern life. When I have been in a geographic area that is isolated from human inhabitants, the stark darkness is startling. The galaxy's candle power is seemingly magnified a million-fold compared to the sky when gazing at it from a city location.
It is hard to escape ambient lighting. It is also difficult to avoid ambient noise.
Ambient noise creeps into our daily living with surreptitious ease. Many of the appliances that we take for granted in our respective worlds come with standard whizzes, whirs, chirps, burps, and dings. A gas, air-flow furnace is the obvious winner for creating background noise that we become accustomed to. The air conditioner is a close second in the winner category. My oven is exceptionally noisy as is the microwave. We won't even discuss the sound that the diesels make when our aqua RV is underway.
As I was ultra-sensitive to ambient noise today, I was taken back, in my memory, to past visits to the North Channel of Lake Huron when we are 'on the hook' (or at anchor) in some secluded nook and cranny of the many inlets there. The sound of silence is almost deafening and you can actually hear your own inhalations and exhalations.
I think I need to get back to the North Channel, if only in my mind.
Do you have a 'North Channel' place that you can go to for escape from ambient noise and light?
Let's go together, shall we?
Ancora imparo
Thursday, January 28, 2010
It Sounds Like Fiction
Today's news highlights have left me shaking my head. How the television on-air personalities could keep from smirking or the radio reporters keep from laughing is beyond me.
The Great Illusionist has spun yet another web designed to ensnare more unsuspecting 'believers' into his camp. A program to spend even more money that our country does not have.....in order to create more jobs? We cannot spend that which we do have nave. Pure and simple.
One of the Great Illusionist's lackeys had the gall to call upon a very small nation to change their monetary and judicial systems. As if we are the globe's best example?
A world-wide automaker, in the face of recalling millions of vehicles. has the audacity to tell consumers that the cars are safe to drive.....even though the automaker has instructed dealers that production on said models has been halted due to consumer-safety concerns.
A formerly influential national political figure has finally admitted to a dalliance that seemed obvious from the first "I did not do this." he uttered. Said figure's spouse has finally awakened and 'smelled the roses' and discovered that roses have thorns.
You would have trouble writing fact that sounds this fictional or absurd. Unfortunately, this isn't fiction, but rather, our national elected and appointed officials exerting their misguided and misinformed influence.
As I've written earlier, the comic strips reflect the most accurate reality and, for the most part, there are no politicians in the funnies. Ironic, isn't it?
Ancora imparo
The Great Illusionist has spun yet another web designed to ensnare more unsuspecting 'believers' into his camp. A program to spend even more money that our country does not have.....in order to create more jobs? We cannot spend that which we do have nave. Pure and simple.
One of the Great Illusionist's lackeys had the gall to call upon a very small nation to change their monetary and judicial systems. As if we are the globe's best example?
A world-wide automaker, in the face of recalling millions of vehicles. has the audacity to tell consumers that the cars are safe to drive.....even though the automaker has instructed dealers that production on said models has been halted due to consumer-safety concerns.
A formerly influential national political figure has finally admitted to a dalliance that seemed obvious from the first "I did not do this." he uttered. Said figure's spouse has finally awakened and 'smelled the roses' and discovered that roses have thorns.
You would have trouble writing fact that sounds this fictional or absurd. Unfortunately, this isn't fiction, but rather, our national elected and appointed officials exerting their misguided and misinformed influence.
As I've written earlier, the comic strips reflect the most accurate reality and, for the most part, there are no politicians in the funnies. Ironic, isn't it?
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Without A Doubt
Jim Cheadle, who writes the 'Scales and Tails' column for a local newspaper, details in his Sunday, January 24, 2010 article, how wildlife adapts to survive in the winter months. Why my eye was caught by this outdoor-related article mystifies me because I am not particularly enthralled by out-of-doors winter activities. My idea of winter activity, beyond the confines of my home, is scurrying from the house to the car, dashing out to fetch the morning's newspaper in my workout clothes, sliding down the driveway to pick up the mail, or shoveling the blessedly-short driveway.
Yes, I'll confess here and now, I regularly leave the warmth of my home (only to get the newspaper) dressed in my workout garb - shorts but with a hooded sweatshirt - and my boots. What a sight I must be to any neighbors who are sitting at their front-kitchen windows, scanning the neighborhood for crazy residents like me! Fortunately, for me (and them) I am often out when it is dark so they are spared the visage.
Back to the article..........
It was the word 'torpor' that grabbed my attention in the Cheadle piece. I've seen the word used before but could not recall its exact meaning, and so I read the entire article, which, I might add, turned out to be highly interesting. Cheadle explained how different wildlife - mammal, reptile, and aviary - adapt to winter conditions. He states "studies now have shown that some birds have a similar behavior referred to as torpor".
I went to my favorite word-source, Merriam-Webster's Eleventh Edition Collegiate Dictionary, a right-elbow fixture, and discovered the following for torpor:
1a: a state of mental and motor inactivity with partial or total insensibility
b: a state of lowered physiological activity typically characterized by reduced metabolism, heart rate, respiration, and body temperature that occurs in varying degrees esp. in hibernating and estivating animals. 2: APATHY, DULLNESS syn see LETHARGY
Well, there you go. I've found a name for my winter dysfunction: torpor. If anyone asks me what is wrong, I can say, "Torpor, without a doubt!" And, since there is a term for my 'condition', I can nap with abandon throughout the day and give a grunt here and there for responses to questions.
Without a doubt, it is time to take a nap!
Ancora imparo
Yes, I'll confess here and now, I regularly leave the warmth of my home (only to get the newspaper) dressed in my workout garb - shorts but with a hooded sweatshirt - and my boots. What a sight I must be to any neighbors who are sitting at their front-kitchen windows, scanning the neighborhood for crazy residents like me! Fortunately, for me (and them) I am often out when it is dark so they are spared the visage.
Back to the article..........
It was the word 'torpor' that grabbed my attention in the Cheadle piece. I've seen the word used before but could not recall its exact meaning, and so I read the entire article, which, I might add, turned out to be highly interesting. Cheadle explained how different wildlife - mammal, reptile, and aviary - adapt to winter conditions. He states "studies now have shown that some birds have a similar behavior referred to as torpor".
I went to my favorite word-source, Merriam-Webster's Eleventh Edition Collegiate Dictionary, a right-elbow fixture, and discovered the following for torpor:
1a: a state of mental and motor inactivity with partial or total insensibility
b: a state of lowered physiological activity typically characterized by reduced metabolism, heart rate, respiration, and body temperature that occurs in varying degrees esp. in hibernating and estivating animals. 2: APATHY, DULLNESS syn see LETHARGY
Well, there you go. I've found a name for my winter dysfunction: torpor. If anyone asks me what is wrong, I can say, "Torpor, without a doubt!" And, since there is a term for my 'condition', I can nap with abandon throughout the day and give a grunt here and there for responses to questions.
Without a doubt, it is time to take a nap!
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I'll Take It and With a Side of Whipped Cream
My chuckles came quickly and with rapidity while reading a recent letter to the editor in my local newspaper. Written by a female, this (she identified herself this way) seventy-year-old woman was incensed because a man (or maybe one man, too many) had called her "young lady". She went on to explain (more like vent) that she didn't need to think of herself as young, thank you, and that she was comfortable in her skin, proud to be her age and readily proclaiming her acquired wisdom.
It just so happens that, for as many years as I have not been chronologically a 'young lady', I have always been pleased when someone older than I refers to me, to my face, as a 'young lady'. I follow that statement up with my own line, "Can I record that, please?" and you will see a big smile on my face. Any time I can be thought of as younger than my actual age, I'm thrilled. Am I comfortable in my own 'older' skin? Yes, mostly. I' m not unhappy with my age and stage, but who wouldn't like to be 'younger' again? While I have no problem admitting that, it does not mean that I would go back in time - I'd just like to look as if I did!
I'd further offer to assure the offended letter-writer that there are much worse monikers that she/we could be referred to as. Old hag. Old biddy. Old woman. Old crow. Old hen.
Old, old, old. Nowhere, have I ever heard, "Good morning, middle-aged lady." And, if I ever hear "Good morning, old lady.", the unfortunate person from whose lips those words escaped will receive a piece of my mind!
I'll take 'young lady' any day and add a side of whipped cream to that, please.
Ancora imparo
It just so happens that, for as many years as I have not been chronologically a 'young lady', I have always been pleased when someone older than I refers to me, to my face, as a 'young lady'. I follow that statement up with my own line, "Can I record that, please?" and you will see a big smile on my face. Any time I can be thought of as younger than my actual age, I'm thrilled. Am I comfortable in my own 'older' skin? Yes, mostly. I' m not unhappy with my age and stage, but who wouldn't like to be 'younger' again? While I have no problem admitting that, it does not mean that I would go back in time - I'd just like to look as if I did!
I'd further offer to assure the offended letter-writer that there are much worse monikers that she/we could be referred to as. Old hag. Old biddy. Old woman. Old crow. Old hen.
Old, old, old. Nowhere, have I ever heard, "Good morning, middle-aged lady." And, if I ever hear "Good morning, old lady.", the unfortunate person from whose lips those words escaped will receive a piece of my mind!
I'll take 'young lady' any day and add a side of whipped cream to that, please.
Ancora imparo
Monday, January 25, 2010
Don't Wait
I learned a painful lesson today about life. Don't wait to see old friends, don't wait to tell someone how much you care, don't wait to take that dreamed-of trip........just do it!
I didn't and missed the opportunity to reconnect with an old friend........forever.
For years, our Christmas cards to one another had hand-written notes that said, "Let's meet halfway for lunch or for a seminar." The city we mentioned was only ONE HOUR AWAY for me and yet I never took the initiative to set something up, always thinking, instead, that I had plenty of time.
Well, I didn't have all the time in the world and today I learned that my friend lost her battle with cancer........in April of 2009, which makes me feel even worse. This past Christmas, I sent yet another simpleton Christmas card with a hand-written letter and said all of those inane things that we say flippantly to one another.....the equivalent of the vapid "Let's get together for lunch!" Had not her brother been responding to cards she received, I'd still be thinking that I had time.
I hope I learn from myself and stop procrastinating about matters of human interaction. While I realize that I cannot make weekly checks with all of the special people from my past, I can pick up the phone and call from time to time and stop waiting for the perfect moment to drive one, two, or three hours to get together for lunch.
That lunch date may never come.
Ancora imparo
I didn't and missed the opportunity to reconnect with an old friend........forever.
For years, our Christmas cards to one another had hand-written notes that said, "Let's meet halfway for lunch or for a seminar." The city we mentioned was only ONE HOUR AWAY for me and yet I never took the initiative to set something up, always thinking, instead, that I had plenty of time.
Well, I didn't have all the time in the world and today I learned that my friend lost her battle with cancer........in April of 2009, which makes me feel even worse. This past Christmas, I sent yet another simpleton Christmas card with a hand-written letter and said all of those inane things that we say flippantly to one another.....the equivalent of the vapid "Let's get together for lunch!" Had not her brother been responding to cards she received, I'd still be thinking that I had time.
I hope I learn from myself and stop procrastinating about matters of human interaction. While I realize that I cannot make weekly checks with all of the special people from my past, I can pick up the phone and call from time to time and stop waiting for the perfect moment to drive one, two, or three hours to get together for lunch.
That lunch date may never come.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, January 24, 2010
In A Former Life
The title of this posting came to me yesterday morning, after I had completed that day's posting. If I have an idea for a topic before I sit down to write, I'll make a note of it, including any phrases, ideas or words that pop into my head. Consequently, I had jotted down "In A Former Life" on a notepad, along with a sentence or two to help me remember the gist of the content.
Later, yesterday morning, I led a group of singers as we participated in a memorial service for someone who had been taken from this earth too early. (I guess you could say that about anyone who is deceased. We all leave too early, don't we.? If we remarked that someone stayed too long..........well, I've just never heard those words uttered.)
I was surprised then, when the pastor giving the memorial message talked about incarnation. Granted, what I am talking about, in today's blog, would fall under the category of 're-incarnation', which is a far cry from the devout who believe in incarnation.
While I've never given re-incarnation too much thought, I would have to say that I am not an unbeliever in re-incarnation. If I believed in such, I would have to hazard a guess that in a past life I had been a dog, presumably from a herding breed - perhaps an Australian sheep dog or cattle dog. I have too many natural traits for herding. It is just that instead of herding cattle, sheep or horses, I was seemingly born to 'guide' people. Most every job I have held has involved getting people to accomplish a corporate goal or guiding them to move as one entity, in some way or another.
I really do feel compassion for my SO, who is suffering from my instinctive need to 'herd'. In former jobs, I was in charge of large groups of individuals, many of whom had a 'noise-maker' at their disposal. It was my responsibility to cajole and coax individuals to act as one large group. Now I have only one person in my sphere of influence and I've had no success in 'herding', coaxing or cajoling him. He, so far, has been immune to my formerly finely honed skills for convincing others to do something.
I can feel my 'herding' skills diminishing and disappearing. Soon I will be left with only 'herding' myself. Perhaps this can work to my advantage. I already talk to myself. Can answering myself be far away? I'll never hear an answer I do not like!
Ancora imparo
Later, yesterday morning, I led a group of singers as we participated in a memorial service for someone who had been taken from this earth too early. (I guess you could say that about anyone who is deceased. We all leave too early, don't we.? If we remarked that someone stayed too long..........well, I've just never heard those words uttered.)
I was surprised then, when the pastor giving the memorial message talked about incarnation. Granted, what I am talking about, in today's blog, would fall under the category of 're-incarnation', which is a far cry from the devout who believe in incarnation.
While I've never given re-incarnation too much thought, I would have to say that I am not an unbeliever in re-incarnation. If I believed in such, I would have to hazard a guess that in a past life I had been a dog, presumably from a herding breed - perhaps an Australian sheep dog or cattle dog. I have too many natural traits for herding. It is just that instead of herding cattle, sheep or horses, I was seemingly born to 'guide' people. Most every job I have held has involved getting people to accomplish a corporate goal or guiding them to move as one entity, in some way or another.
I really do feel compassion for my SO, who is suffering from my instinctive need to 'herd'. In former jobs, I was in charge of large groups of individuals, many of whom had a 'noise-maker' at their disposal. It was my responsibility to cajole and coax individuals to act as one large group. Now I have only one person in my sphere of influence and I've had no success in 'herding', coaxing or cajoling him. He, so far, has been immune to my formerly finely honed skills for convincing others to do something.
I can feel my 'herding' skills diminishing and disappearing. Soon I will be left with only 'herding' myself. Perhaps this can work to my advantage. I already talk to myself. Can answering myself be far away? I'll never hear an answer I do not like!
Ancora imparo
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Intrinsic V.S. Extrinsic
What drives you? Is it intrinsic (internal) motivation or extrinsic (external) motivation?
For reasons unknown to me, I've been giving this some personal thought, as of late. Perhaps it is the unfathomable tragedy in Haiti, a friend who is experiencing unsettling physical symptoms, a course I'm taking, concerns for those closest to me? I do not know where the impetus for this reflection is being generated but it certainly has been a positive exercise in looking at my own motives for just about everything I do..........vacuuming and litter-box cleaning excluded.
I'm confident that I know how to motivate others. After years of educating people both under and over the age of eighteen, the instinct of how to encourage others has been well and oft exercised. Self-motivation and encouragement though? That is another matter.
I am aware of how I am motivated by others. Being a fairly simple personality, it does not take too much to 'trip my trigger', 'boil my broccoli', 'ring my bell', or 'knock my socks off'. A touch on the shoulder, a smile sent in my direction, a knowing look passed between two friends, a hand-written note, the sound of the vacuum sweeper that I did not start, a ringing chord from any musical group I direct, a fresh pot of coffee that I did not make, coffee and conversation with a friend, sharing a meal with friends, being with my children, holding my grandchildren...........all of these can exact an external and internal smile from me.
However, back to the matter of self-motivation because I am still seeking to wrap my mind around this concept.
I'm trying to move away from food as a self-motivator, although there is little better than a fine piece of chocolate.........or anything with chocolate in it.........my exception being breakfast cereal with chocolate in it. That never did appeal to me. Well, there is one exception. 'Puppy chow'....is a snack recipe that includes both breakfast cereal and chocolate that I would sit up for and beg, roll over, play dead, etc. During my teaching career, a few moms would put together baggies of puppy chow, tie them together with ribbons and send them as Christmas gifts to their children's teachers. You would have thought I had received the keys to the Taj Mahal! Puppy chow and a cup of coffee or tea? "You had me at hello."
As usual, these postings start out with a serious thought, one that might actually help me help mankind but they rapidly deteriorate into chocolate culinary discourse. I fear there is no help for me but through a twelve-step course for chocolate fantasizers.
Where are the Yellow Pages?
Ancora imparo
For reasons unknown to me, I've been giving this some personal thought, as of late. Perhaps it is the unfathomable tragedy in Haiti, a friend who is experiencing unsettling physical symptoms, a course I'm taking, concerns for those closest to me? I do not know where the impetus for this reflection is being generated but it certainly has been a positive exercise in looking at my own motives for just about everything I do..........vacuuming and litter-box cleaning excluded.
I'm confident that I know how to motivate others. After years of educating people both under and over the age of eighteen, the instinct of how to encourage others has been well and oft exercised. Self-motivation and encouragement though? That is another matter.
I am aware of how I am motivated by others. Being a fairly simple personality, it does not take too much to 'trip my trigger', 'boil my broccoli', 'ring my bell', or 'knock my socks off'. A touch on the shoulder, a smile sent in my direction, a knowing look passed between two friends, a hand-written note, the sound of the vacuum sweeper that I did not start, a ringing chord from any musical group I direct, a fresh pot of coffee that I did not make, coffee and conversation with a friend, sharing a meal with friends, being with my children, holding my grandchildren...........all of these can exact an external and internal smile from me.
However, back to the matter of self-motivation because I am still seeking to wrap my mind around this concept.
I'm trying to move away from food as a self-motivator, although there is little better than a fine piece of chocolate.........or anything with chocolate in it.........my exception being breakfast cereal with chocolate in it. That never did appeal to me. Well, there is one exception. 'Puppy chow'....is a snack recipe that includes both breakfast cereal and chocolate that I would sit up for and beg, roll over, play dead, etc. During my teaching career, a few moms would put together baggies of puppy chow, tie them together with ribbons and send them as Christmas gifts to their children's teachers. You would have thought I had received the keys to the Taj Mahal! Puppy chow and a cup of coffee or tea? "You had me at hello."
As usual, these postings start out with a serious thought, one that might actually help me help mankind but they rapidly deteriorate into chocolate culinary discourse. I fear there is no help for me but through a twelve-step course for chocolate fantasizers.
Where are the Yellow Pages?
Ancora imparo
Friday, January 22, 2010
The Back Button
Periodically, when I first access blogger.com, I get a rejection message that basically says another attempt was made to 'edit' this blog at the same time I was logging in. The prompt says to hit the back button, which I do, and that act always remedies the issue.
As with many of my postings, it is some small, minute 'happening' such as this incidence, that creates instant fuel for the day's posting content. Today is no exception.
Don't you wish that life came with 'back' and 'forward' buttons that we could push to erase conversations, actions, or decisions from our past, or to have 'do-overs' that could remedy or rectify unfortunate and uncomfortable situations that we played a part in?
If only it were that easy.
Once words are spoken or deeds are done, it the real-life version of pushing 'send' on a computer's keyboard. The words and deeds cannot be retrieved. They remain in space and in others' memories with a life of their own that lives on and on. A word said will never be dead. The same tongue can utter words that will heal or hurt.
Heavy stuff, isn't it?
I wonder if Staples sells a 'do-over' button?
Ancora imparo
As with many of my postings, it is some small, minute 'happening' such as this incidence, that creates instant fuel for the day's posting content. Today is no exception.
Don't you wish that life came with 'back' and 'forward' buttons that we could push to erase conversations, actions, or decisions from our past, or to have 'do-overs' that could remedy or rectify unfortunate and uncomfortable situations that we played a part in?
If only it were that easy.
Once words are spoken or deeds are done, it the real-life version of pushing 'send' on a computer's keyboard. The words and deeds cannot be retrieved. They remain in space and in others' memories with a life of their own that lives on and on. A word said will never be dead. The same tongue can utter words that will heal or hurt.
Heavy stuff, isn't it?
I wonder if Staples sells a 'do-over' button?
Ancora imparo
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Spinal Column
The spinal column of Homo sapiens is the lifeline of the human body. This ultra-important skeletal highway is wired with all matter of necessities for existence. Our spinal columns do, literally, separate life from death.
A little research from the site, Human Evolution at the Smithsonian Institution, gleaned this about us: Homo sapiens have evolved a large brain with a high vaulted cranium with a flat and near vertical forehead. The widest part of our modern skulls is high on the skull, as opposed to the earlier ancestor, Homo erectus.
My spinal column feeds my brain and in return, my brain sends signals to my spinal column. A fascinating synergy.
Having pause, this morning, to reflect on my spine and its significance in my life, the term spineless came to mind. Spineless can be thought of as being unconvicted about most everything or being without conviction, opinion or action. (These are my definitions.) To be referred to as spineless is not a positive descriptor in any stretch of the imagination.
My body feels better when my spine is erect......straight as a board. My moral compass works better when my spine is engaged and not limp. At times, my tongue gets all mixed up with my spine and then I utter words or conjure thoughts that can unintentionally offend or hurt. But.....then there are times when, having had a flaccid spine, I am drawn to that realization and my moral, ethical and responsible compass roars back to life, thus straightening my spine to the angle and firmness required of me. For moi, discernment remains my internal lexicon - that inner voice that knows the difference.
If you see me across a crowded room or across a table in conversation, I'll likely be sitting as straight as possible. I prefer a hard chair to a padded and comfy one. I guess that is God's way of helping me avoid headaches, back aches and other aching body parts. Plus, it reminds me that I do have a spine and I should put it to good use.
I need to practice sitting a little straighter today. Will you join me?
Ancora imparo
A little research from the site, Human Evolution at the Smithsonian Institution, gleaned this about us: Homo sapiens have evolved a large brain with a high vaulted cranium with a flat and near vertical forehead. The widest part of our modern skulls is high on the skull, as opposed to the earlier ancestor, Homo erectus.
My spinal column feeds my brain and in return, my brain sends signals to my spinal column. A fascinating synergy.
Having pause, this morning, to reflect on my spine and its significance in my life, the term spineless came to mind. Spineless can be thought of as being unconvicted about most everything or being without conviction, opinion or action. (These are my definitions.) To be referred to as spineless is not a positive descriptor in any stretch of the imagination.
My body feels better when my spine is erect......straight as a board. My moral compass works better when my spine is engaged and not limp. At times, my tongue gets all mixed up with my spine and then I utter words or conjure thoughts that can unintentionally offend or hurt. But.....then there are times when, having had a flaccid spine, I am drawn to that realization and my moral, ethical and responsible compass roars back to life, thus straightening my spine to the angle and firmness required of me. For moi, discernment remains my internal lexicon - that inner voice that knows the difference.
If you see me across a crowded room or across a table in conversation, I'll likely be sitting as straight as possible. I prefer a hard chair to a padded and comfy one. I guess that is God's way of helping me avoid headaches, back aches and other aching body parts. Plus, it reminds me that I do have a spine and I should put it to good use.
I need to practice sitting a little straighter today. Will you join me?
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
It Seemed Like A Good Idea
Forgive me for addressing a mostly female readership today, but this topic will be most closely understood by women.
Our hair.
In a recent blog posting, I mentioned that my hair has a mind of its own. Throughout my teens and through my forties, I do not recall any great issues with my hair. It has gone from shoulder-length to short to long repeatedly. My hair was longer when the children were born but I quickly learned that babies like to pull on hair, so I went short (Hair-length, that is. I've always been short in stature.) and curly. As a young mother I felt as though I needed a hair style that was wash, air-dry, and go. That concept worked for a number of years until a hair stylist convinced me that year after year of perms was ruining my hair. Then I went straight and short. (Straight, as in hair style.)
The last time I had no bangs was in later college and early-married-first-teaching jobs. Bangs have just been a coiffure staple of mine for years - kind of like Mamie Eisenhower......for those readers who know who she was.
Since becoming aqua RV owners, I have been on a perpetual hunt for the perfect boating hairstyle. Laugh not! This is a serious matter. When the aqua RV is 'in slip', which is the majority of the time, it is like being in a fish bowl.....pun both intended and not intended. I've been searching for a hairstyle that looks great from the moment my feet touch the floor after a night's sleep, through the day when the wind constantly blows, through the inevitable water spray when underway, and resists wilting when outside in ninety-plus, very humid days. As I said.......the perfect boating hairstyle.
As with many other areas of my life, I seek opinions from people I think may give me the opinion that I am looking for. Consequently, I change stylists not infrequently. The older I get, the more frequently I say 'adieu' and seek out a fresh eye and perspective. Some women I know stay with their stylists for a lifetime. Not me.
About four months ago, my current stylist and I decided that I should let my bangs grow out in order to create a new look for this coming aqua RV season. It seemed like an easy task.......at the time. Slowly my bangs have grown - emphasis on slowly - as they gradually creep down my forehead. For the last few weeks, I have looked more like an English sheep dog than a grandmother. If I were to put a small bow in my locks, just above my eyebrows, I would look as if I just came from the dog groomer.
Just this morning, my bangs FINALLY looked as if they might stay to one side, kind of like the bob hairstyle that I am working toward. For several days now, I have been sorely tempted to grab the scissors and start chopping. This in-between stage is infuriating. I'm too old for barrettes, too young for my mother's hair nets, and too prideful to plaster on the hairspray.
I'm going searching for my old, crocheted winter hat. I'll just keep it pulled down, tightly over my skull, removing it only for showers and church on Sundays.
No bangs seemed like a good idea.....once upon a time!
Ancora imparo
Our hair.
In a recent blog posting, I mentioned that my hair has a mind of its own. Throughout my teens and through my forties, I do not recall any great issues with my hair. It has gone from shoulder-length to short to long repeatedly. My hair was longer when the children were born but I quickly learned that babies like to pull on hair, so I went short (Hair-length, that is. I've always been short in stature.) and curly. As a young mother I felt as though I needed a hair style that was wash, air-dry, and go. That concept worked for a number of years until a hair stylist convinced me that year after year of perms was ruining my hair. Then I went straight and short. (Straight, as in hair style.)
The last time I had no bangs was in later college and early-married-first-teaching jobs. Bangs have just been a coiffure staple of mine for years - kind of like Mamie Eisenhower......for those readers who know who she was.
Since becoming aqua RV owners, I have been on a perpetual hunt for the perfect boating hairstyle. Laugh not! This is a serious matter. When the aqua RV is 'in slip', which is the majority of the time, it is like being in a fish bowl.....pun both intended and not intended. I've been searching for a hairstyle that looks great from the moment my feet touch the floor after a night's sleep, through the day when the wind constantly blows, through the inevitable water spray when underway, and resists wilting when outside in ninety-plus, very humid days. As I said.......the perfect boating hairstyle.
As with many other areas of my life, I seek opinions from people I think may give me the opinion that I am looking for. Consequently, I change stylists not infrequently. The older I get, the more frequently I say 'adieu' and seek out a fresh eye and perspective. Some women I know stay with their stylists for a lifetime. Not me.
About four months ago, my current stylist and I decided that I should let my bangs grow out in order to create a new look for this coming aqua RV season. It seemed like an easy task.......at the time. Slowly my bangs have grown - emphasis on slowly - as they gradually creep down my forehead. For the last few weeks, I have looked more like an English sheep dog than a grandmother. If I were to put a small bow in my locks, just above my eyebrows, I would look as if I just came from the dog groomer.
Just this morning, my bangs FINALLY looked as if they might stay to one side, kind of like the bob hairstyle that I am working toward. For several days now, I have been sorely tempted to grab the scissors and start chopping. This in-between stage is infuriating. I'm too old for barrettes, too young for my mother's hair nets, and too prideful to plaster on the hairspray.
I'm going searching for my old, crocheted winter hat. I'll just keep it pulled down, tightly over my skull, removing it only for showers and church on Sundays.
No bangs seemed like a good idea.....once upon a time!
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Comic Outcome
A little over one year ago, I made a pledge to read my local newspaper's comic strips for one year. My purpose was to discover if the funnies were really funny. As I had explained, in a much-earlier blog posted about the same time as my personal challenge, I had never found the comic section very amusing. My SO and FS, regular readers, were always outwardly amused. I would look at the comics and only occasionally smile.
Segue to now. I'm ready to report my findings.
It took a while, but after daily perusals during the last twelve-plus months, I can admit to laughing aloud from time to time. I've taken the time to question other readers to determine their likes, dislikes, and favorites. I have come to realize that each comic strip's creator/illustrator has a societal message, of some kind, to convey. A few strips deal, quite realistically I might add, with parenting; some strips deal with human relationships; some strips deal with marriage and family; one exclusively portrays life with teenagers; one deals with feline and other animal lovers; another creation depicts the life of office politics; and yet another is written from the perspective of the animals themselves. The comics reveal a more reliable litmus test of life than, perhaps, any other media. They can convey subtle messages that might be unfavorably received in other manners or from other voices.
Yes, I have found the funnies funny. Their fascinating takes on life are a breath of fresh air in an otherwise duplicitous and deceptive societal landscape. We get zero truth from our elected officials and their lackeys. At least we can see ourselves, as we are, in the comic strips.
Ancora imparo
Segue to now. I'm ready to report my findings.
It took a while, but after daily perusals during the last twelve-plus months, I can admit to laughing aloud from time to time. I've taken the time to question other readers to determine their likes, dislikes, and favorites. I have come to realize that each comic strip's creator/illustrator has a societal message, of some kind, to convey. A few strips deal, quite realistically I might add, with parenting; some strips deal with human relationships; some strips deal with marriage and family; one exclusively portrays life with teenagers; one deals with feline and other animal lovers; another creation depicts the life of office politics; and yet another is written from the perspective of the animals themselves. The comics reveal a more reliable litmus test of life than, perhaps, any other media. They can convey subtle messages that might be unfavorably received in other manners or from other voices.
Yes, I have found the funnies funny. Their fascinating takes on life are a breath of fresh air in an otherwise duplicitous and deceptive societal landscape. We get zero truth from our elected officials and their lackeys. At least we can see ourselves, as we are, in the comic strips.
Ancora imparo
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Mind Of Their Own
Some 'things' just have a mind of their own, don't they?
For instance, my wireless mouse has never been the same since my computer crashed during the winter of 2009. My mouse communicates information to my laptop's cursor via a language known only to creatures from other worlds. The cursor jumps randomly at times, moving letters into the midst of other words and, the most annoying trait of all, jumping to the 'send' button when I am in the middle of creating an email.
My hair has always had a mind of its own. People give me compliments from time to time and I can honestly reply that if my hair looks 'good', it is totally accidental. I always said that, as a mother of young children, I looked really good for the first five minutes of my day.
Our Grumpy Kitty has a mind of her own. She marches to the beat of her own drummer.....if she has not eaten her drummer already. She could care less what any other living organism thinks she should do.
Sometimes my tongue acts with no apparent connection to my brain - kind of like having a mind of its own. As a rule, when this happens, the outcome is generally not favorable - for me or others!
Pizza dough falls under the category of having a mind of its own. Have you ever tried rolling out pizza dough? I do not attempt it very often and, when I do, it is as if I am trying to commandeer mercury that has fallen on the floor. I am certain that all pizza dough recipes contain rubber that is programmed to return to its original shape.
Lastly, I know, from personal experience, that children have a mind of their own. This is especially true when a parent tries to influence a child or, heaven forbid, actually tell the child what to do. Some children are genetically predisposed to to exactly the opposite of the parental request.
I would like to think that I, too, have a mind of my own. That I can think independently of the 'crowd', that I can muster the courage to think and act when the prevailing opinion is blowing in a direction that I am not comfortable with, and that I can think with compassion and care when thinking of others.
Having a mind of my own........this is a good thing.
Ancora imparo
For instance, my wireless mouse has never been the same since my computer crashed during the winter of 2009. My mouse communicates information to my laptop's cursor via a language known only to creatures from other worlds. The cursor jumps randomly at times, moving letters into the midst of other words and, the most annoying trait of all, jumping to the 'send' button when I am in the middle of creating an email.
My hair has always had a mind of its own. People give me compliments from time to time and I can honestly reply that if my hair looks 'good', it is totally accidental. I always said that, as a mother of young children, I looked really good for the first five minutes of my day.
Our Grumpy Kitty has a mind of her own. She marches to the beat of her own drummer.....if she has not eaten her drummer already. She could care less what any other living organism thinks she should do.
Sometimes my tongue acts with no apparent connection to my brain - kind of like having a mind of its own. As a rule, when this happens, the outcome is generally not favorable - for me or others!
Pizza dough falls under the category of having a mind of its own. Have you ever tried rolling out pizza dough? I do not attempt it very often and, when I do, it is as if I am trying to commandeer mercury that has fallen on the floor. I am certain that all pizza dough recipes contain rubber that is programmed to return to its original shape.
Lastly, I know, from personal experience, that children have a mind of their own. This is especially true when a parent tries to influence a child or, heaven forbid, actually tell the child what to do. Some children are genetically predisposed to to exactly the opposite of the parental request.
I would like to think that I, too, have a mind of my own. That I can think independently of the 'crowd', that I can muster the courage to think and act when the prevailing opinion is blowing in a direction that I am not comfortable with, and that I can think with compassion and care when thinking of others.
Having a mind of my own........this is a good thing.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Quirky Is Catchy
Ever think about what captures and keeps your attention?
Is it volume?
Content?
Creativity?
Quirkiness?
Humor?
All of the above?
If the person delivering a speech, sermon, or address yells and raises the voice to a fervor pitch are you more apt to stay focused than if the presenter lowers the volume to a mere whisper? Or do you react more responsively if the person talking speaks softly and gently?
Do you respond more to talking animals, to fit-looking young women and men or to the dumpy, frumpy dowager with carelessly placed lipstick whose voice resembles sandpaper? Does a quacking duck stick more in your memory than a pseudo-doctor pitching the properties of the latest and greatest pharmaceutical? Does your attention-keeping depend on how fast the car is and how powerful the engine?
These questions loom largely in my mind because the last two days have brought many people, places, and things before me. I've had three-hour conversations that remained fresh until the end, meetings that were robotic and pedantic, and personal encounters that were delightful and inspiring. Although there were no quacking ducks, there was imagination and enthusiasm, as well as thinking outside of the proverbial box in terms of method and presentation........all resulting in my apt attention.
Even though my body is exhausted and pleasantly tired, my mind is exhilarated and alert.....so much so that sleeping may be difficult tonight as I strain to quell the ideas that are currently running to and fro.
Did I mention that my attention was also garnered today by chocolate?
Quacking ducks and chocolate will do it every time!
Ancora imparo
Is it volume?
Content?
Creativity?
Quirkiness?
Humor?
All of the above?
If the person delivering a speech, sermon, or address yells and raises the voice to a fervor pitch are you more apt to stay focused than if the presenter lowers the volume to a mere whisper? Or do you react more responsively if the person talking speaks softly and gently?
Do you respond more to talking animals, to fit-looking young women and men or to the dumpy, frumpy dowager with carelessly placed lipstick whose voice resembles sandpaper? Does a quacking duck stick more in your memory than a pseudo-doctor pitching the properties of the latest and greatest pharmaceutical? Does your attention-keeping depend on how fast the car is and how powerful the engine?
These questions loom largely in my mind because the last two days have brought many people, places, and things before me. I've had three-hour conversations that remained fresh until the end, meetings that were robotic and pedantic, and personal encounters that were delightful and inspiring. Although there were no quacking ducks, there was imagination and enthusiasm, as well as thinking outside of the proverbial box in terms of method and presentation........all resulting in my apt attention.
Even though my body is exhausted and pleasantly tired, my mind is exhilarated and alert.....so much so that sleeping may be difficult tonight as I strain to quell the ideas that are currently running to and fro.
Did I mention that my attention was also garnered today by chocolate?
Quacking ducks and chocolate will do it every time!
Ancora imparo
Friday, January 15, 2010
Denuded and Defrocked
I am in mourning........at least temporarily. Tonight I removed the last of the Christmas tree's ornaments. The tree is a synthetic type so it has no branches that lose their needles and it is the kind that is pre-lit so the lights are a permanent part of the decorations.
The tree went 'up' late this year as my SO and I struggled to get into the Holly Daze spirit. Actually we were prodded into getting the tree's ornaments on because we had guests over for dinner in December and felt that we did not want to appear 'Scroogish'. In a matter of two hours, the tree was up and ready to go. We decorated a little differently this year, than in past years, because TLV'sLB was new to the family and we didn't know what level of exploration to expect from him. However, once the tree went up it became my center of peace and tranquility almost daily. The white lights danced off the glass ornaments and gave the appearance of glittering jewels - right on my tree! This, coupled with my dad's old Morris chair, gave me many nights and early mornings of a Zen-like state that lowered my pulse and blood pressure.
Now that the tree is ready to go into storage for the next eleven months, I am struck by the emptiness in the corner of the sun room where it once stood. It is as if the room swallowed up the Aurora Borealis and spat back out a black hole. Even Grumpy Kitty seemed disoriented, tonight, after losing the tree-skirt that doubled as her Kitty Bed.
Please do not do what I did - sacrifice Zen for what the calendar says is a perfect time to denude and defrock the Christmas tree. Tree-lovers of the world, unite! Let us, next year, enjoy the tree for as long as we choose. Let the nay-sayers say nay all they want!
Ancora imparo
The tree went 'up' late this year as my SO and I struggled to get into the Holly Daze spirit. Actually we were prodded into getting the tree's ornaments on because we had guests over for dinner in December and felt that we did not want to appear 'Scroogish'. In a matter of two hours, the tree was up and ready to go. We decorated a little differently this year, than in past years, because TLV'sLB was new to the family and we didn't know what level of exploration to expect from him. However, once the tree went up it became my center of peace and tranquility almost daily. The white lights danced off the glass ornaments and gave the appearance of glittering jewels - right on my tree! This, coupled with my dad's old Morris chair, gave me many nights and early mornings of a Zen-like state that lowered my pulse and blood pressure.
Now that the tree is ready to go into storage for the next eleven months, I am struck by the emptiness in the corner of the sun room where it once stood. It is as if the room swallowed up the Aurora Borealis and spat back out a black hole. Even Grumpy Kitty seemed disoriented, tonight, after losing the tree-skirt that doubled as her Kitty Bed.
Please do not do what I did - sacrifice Zen for what the calendar says is a perfect time to denude and defrock the Christmas tree. Tree-lovers of the world, unite! Let us, next year, enjoy the tree for as long as we choose. Let the nay-sayers say nay all they want!
Ancora imparo
The Act of Mending
How many of you mend? You know.....sew buttons back on, replace a zipper, repair a ripped hem - a torn piece of fabric, a hole in a sock or other garment. Do you mend or just simply throw the impaired article of clothing or cloth away?
I was raised by parents who were married in the Great Depression and, who left an indelible imprint on my adulthood. I will go to my grave marveling at how much of our parents and childhoods are carried with us until the very last air we breathe. I do a lot of mending by hand, or by machine, when the old needle, thread and thimble just will not cut it. This, of course, means that the article that I have mended by hand can still be worn without looking as if it was leftover from a garage sale several decades ago. I do have some pride left.
Although I mend, it does not mean that I enjoy mending and have been known to go to great lengths to procrastinate completing the task. As of late, 'mend' has been on my daily chore list for almost three weeks. Finally, yesterday, I announced to myself that the time of reckoning had arrived and I should find nary an excuse to leave 'mending' to yet another twenty-four period. (In personal defense, mending is further complicated by the fact that I cannot see well enough with my mono-vision contacts to thread a needle. Conveniently,then, when my contacts are in, I cannot mend. This simply leads to leaving my contacts in for great lengths of time to avoid the inevitable.)
I digress.
Yesterday I made myself sit down, no contacts in yet, rounded up the appropriate thread colors and items that needed my attention, and got to work. Mending usually never takes very long and when I'm done, I always think to myself, "Why did I wait so long?"
Mending is symbolic, isn't it? I use the word 'mending' but, for others, it could be 'fixing'. The act of returning an item, currently unusable, to a state of use......that would be my definition without consulting my faithful tome - the Merriam Webster Dictionary.
There are days when I need personal mending and there are days when I think of people, places, and things that need 'mending'. Port O Prince, Haiti is certainly at the forefront of thought for a giant, international mending project. As with any mending project, plans must be made, action steps identified, supplies and materials gathered, and skills utilized to tackle the project. In the case of Haiti, there appears to be many 'menders', each with their own ideas and agendas. I pray that The Great Mender will guide all of the workers so that the 'mendees' feel the needles and threads as quickly as possible.
The Haitian devastation makes my puny mending task seem so very insignificant.....puts things in perspective quickly.
Ancora imparo
I was raised by parents who were married in the Great Depression and, who left an indelible imprint on my adulthood. I will go to my grave marveling at how much of our parents and childhoods are carried with us until the very last air we breathe. I do a lot of mending by hand, or by machine, when the old needle, thread and thimble just will not cut it. This, of course, means that the article that I have mended by hand can still be worn without looking as if it was leftover from a garage sale several decades ago. I do have some pride left.
Although I mend, it does not mean that I enjoy mending and have been known to go to great lengths to procrastinate completing the task. As of late, 'mend' has been on my daily chore list for almost three weeks. Finally, yesterday, I announced to myself that the time of reckoning had arrived and I should find nary an excuse to leave 'mending' to yet another twenty-four period. (In personal defense, mending is further complicated by the fact that I cannot see well enough with my mono-vision contacts to thread a needle. Conveniently,then, when my contacts are in, I cannot mend. This simply leads to leaving my contacts in for great lengths of time to avoid the inevitable.)
I digress.
Yesterday I made myself sit down, no contacts in yet, rounded up the appropriate thread colors and items that needed my attention, and got to work. Mending usually never takes very long and when I'm done, I always think to myself, "Why did I wait so long?"
Mending is symbolic, isn't it? I use the word 'mending' but, for others, it could be 'fixing'. The act of returning an item, currently unusable, to a state of use......that would be my definition without consulting my faithful tome - the Merriam Webster Dictionary.
There are days when I need personal mending and there are days when I think of people, places, and things that need 'mending'. Port O Prince, Haiti is certainly at the forefront of thought for a giant, international mending project. As with any mending project, plans must be made, action steps identified, supplies and materials gathered, and skills utilized to tackle the project. In the case of Haiti, there appears to be many 'menders', each with their own ideas and agendas. I pray that The Great Mender will guide all of the workers so that the 'mendees' feel the needles and threads as quickly as possible.
The Haitian devastation makes my puny mending task seem so very insignificant.....puts things in perspective quickly.
Ancora imparo
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Transitions
Transitions are an interesting phenomenon. Some come quickly, some sneak into our lives like silent intruders, others arrive with fanfare and sirens. I believe that we humans can be in transitions and not realize what state we are in.
Transitions can occur at any age and stage and they can be short in duration or long, drawn-out affairs. Transitions can be either welcome or unwelcome, expected or unexpected, intended or unintended, positive or negative and have positive or negative outcomes.
I'm confident that I am in a multitude of transitions at the moment and I am having trouble identifying which transition needs attention at the appropriate time. I'm in a state of transition confusion.
Confusion seems to be related to the time of day and whichever activity I am currently involved in. I also fear that my transition confusion may be exacerbated by chronological advancement. Fortunately, I have not yet become confused when driving (any more than normal when I'm in a strange city) and I have not yet confused my right hand from my left. I still know my name and up from down AND I still know a tasty cookie when I eat one!
I acknowledge that these are good signs, but there are still current transitions that I wish would resolve sooner than later - such as: Growing out my bangs, changing marinas, moving from the Holly Daze to the blahs of February and March, living without Max, no longer teaching, etc.
I cannot think of too many transitory states I would like to be in. Perhaps just two come to mind: A size eight and puppy-ownership.
I think I am now in a fantasy state.
Ancora imparo
Transitions can occur at any age and stage and they can be short in duration or long, drawn-out affairs. Transitions can be either welcome or unwelcome, expected or unexpected, intended or unintended, positive or negative and have positive or negative outcomes.
I'm confident that I am in a multitude of transitions at the moment and I am having trouble identifying which transition needs attention at the appropriate time. I'm in a state of transition confusion.
Confusion seems to be related to the time of day and whichever activity I am currently involved in. I also fear that my transition confusion may be exacerbated by chronological advancement. Fortunately, I have not yet become confused when driving (any more than normal when I'm in a strange city) and I have not yet confused my right hand from my left. I still know my name and up from down AND I still know a tasty cookie when I eat one!
I acknowledge that these are good signs, but there are still current transitions that I wish would resolve sooner than later - such as: Growing out my bangs, changing marinas, moving from the Holly Daze to the blahs of February and March, living without Max, no longer teaching, etc.
I cannot think of too many transitory states I would like to be in. Perhaps just two come to mind: A size eight and puppy-ownership.
I think I am now in a fantasy state.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Will Pencil-Identity Be My Legacy?
In the world of financial planning there is a term called 'legacy planning'. In layman's terms, it means how much does a person want to spend in this world, whilst still alive, and how much does the person want to leave behind for survivors or to charitable institutions. Charts, software, and experts abound on how to achieve whatever one's stated goal is. Goals can and do change as people, circumstances, and life are not static but rather a constant sea of synergies between humans and their life-goals.
Finances aside, I've devoted not a small amount of thinking to what impressions and memories would I want to leave behind. What will people say about me when I'm gone?
Here is a recent 'glimmer':
Last night I was reminded, by a person whom I work closely with, that whenever she sees sharpened, Ticonderoga 2/HB pencils lying about, she thinks of me, and leaves them in my mailbox because she knows that is a signature teaching tool of mine. Well, thought I to myself, I could be identified with much worse and insignificant things. At least by giving a sharpened, Ticonderoga 2/HB to each of the singers in my choir, they know that I cared to send the very best.
Having learned the hard way, in the classroom, that if you give sub-standard pencils to those with whom you are working, you will find your time being interrupted by students steadily at the pencil sharpener, sharpening those pencils whose graphite breaks constantly. This is a highly annoying circumstance, one that a seasoned leader can see could be remedied quickly by simply upgrading the brand of pencil passed out to participants.
Consequently, I will be honored to be remembered by the brand of pencil that I pass out to participants, players, and singers with whom I have had and currently have the pleasure of working with. However, I can also see the value of working on other traits that can be ascribed to me for eternity that may be of a higher value than simple pencils.
Perhaps I should start passing out chocolate at every rehearsal? Paperclips? Rubber bands?
I must sign off and go work on my legacy planning!
Ancora imparo
Finances aside, I've devoted not a small amount of thinking to what impressions and memories would I want to leave behind. What will people say about me when I'm gone?
Here is a recent 'glimmer':
Last night I was reminded, by a person whom I work closely with, that whenever she sees sharpened, Ticonderoga 2/HB pencils lying about, she thinks of me, and leaves them in my mailbox because she knows that is a signature teaching tool of mine. Well, thought I to myself, I could be identified with much worse and insignificant things. At least by giving a sharpened, Ticonderoga 2/HB to each of the singers in my choir, they know that I cared to send the very best.
Having learned the hard way, in the classroom, that if you give sub-standard pencils to those with whom you are working, you will find your time being interrupted by students steadily at the pencil sharpener, sharpening those pencils whose graphite breaks constantly. This is a highly annoying circumstance, one that a seasoned leader can see could be remedied quickly by simply upgrading the brand of pencil passed out to participants.
Consequently, I will be honored to be remembered by the brand of pencil that I pass out to participants, players, and singers with whom I have had and currently have the pleasure of working with. However, I can also see the value of working on other traits that can be ascribed to me for eternity that may be of a higher value than simple pencils.
Perhaps I should start passing out chocolate at every rehearsal? Paperclips? Rubber bands?
I must sign off and go work on my legacy planning!
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Joy Formula
Pop culture leads us to believe that we must find our joy, follow our bliss, be true to ourselves, etc. Speaking, of course, only for myself, I can attest to falling victim to that philosophy. It is, after all, placed before us constantly. Television and print media are full of segments and articles about 'how to be happy' or 'find your joy' so it is only natural that 'joy' is sought and pursued almost relentlessly. It is no surprise, then, that when we do not experience 'joy' on a regular, if not daily, basis, we may arrive at the conclusion that we are missing 'something' or that 'something' is wrong with us.
As I stated earlier, I do fall victim to this mentality and I was just hit over the head with that realization. A short while ago, I walked out of my office, past the pictures lining the shelves in my bookcase and my eye was caught by a picture of my granddaughter, Princess Leia. She is seated in her high chair with a big smile on her face and in her eyes.......this despite the fact that she had an undiagnosed ear infection at the time. Seeing her picture made me instantly smile and I thought to myself, "This is a 'joyette'", a momentary event or happening that brought instant happiness to moi. Then I recalled several other instances, just this morning, that resulted in the same reaction. Viewing the cardinals, reading an email from a friend, hearing a friend's laugh, and gazing at the Christmas tree's lights. (Yes, our tree is still up and will be as long as it brings joy while looking at it.)
All those 'joyettes' and in such a short time frame.....but, they all computed to joy, for which I am thankful. Now I'll be ready to identify more 'joyettes' as they happen and I'll be able to add them up to the grand sum of another state of JOY. I think JOY can be fleeting so I'd better sign off and go enjoy it while it lasts.
I hope your day is filled with 'joyettes'!
Ancora imparo
As I stated earlier, I do fall victim to this mentality and I was just hit over the head with that realization. A short while ago, I walked out of my office, past the pictures lining the shelves in my bookcase and my eye was caught by a picture of my granddaughter, Princess Leia. She is seated in her high chair with a big smile on her face and in her eyes.......this despite the fact that she had an undiagnosed ear infection at the time. Seeing her picture made me instantly smile and I thought to myself, "This is a 'joyette'", a momentary event or happening that brought instant happiness to moi. Then I recalled several other instances, just this morning, that resulted in the same reaction. Viewing the cardinals, reading an email from a friend, hearing a friend's laugh, and gazing at the Christmas tree's lights. (Yes, our tree is still up and will be as long as it brings joy while looking at it.)
All those 'joyettes' and in such a short time frame.....but, they all computed to joy, for which I am thankful. Now I'll be ready to identify more 'joyettes' as they happen and I'll be able to add them up to the grand sum of another state of JOY. I think JOY can be fleeting so I'd better sign off and go enjoy it while it lasts.
I hope your day is filled with 'joyettes'!
Ancora imparo
Monday, January 11, 2010
If Objects Could Talk
The word 'anthromorphism' has long fascinated me. I had seen the word in print and heard it used, mostly on the radio, so I had a vague idea of its meaning from context. Then about ten years ago I finally looked up its official meaning in the dictionary and my mind amazingly held that fact.
At the risk of boring or insulting any reader, allow me to include the definition and etymology of 'anthromorphism'. The meaning that I will go with, for this posting, is as follows: The tendency to attribute human characteristics to animals or inanimate objects. Its etymology is - from the Greek: anthropos - human; morphe - form.
I know lots of people, mostly women, who talk to their houseplants. That probably falls under the umbrella of anthromorphism. Millions of us have determined our house pets to be human-like and children have anthromorphized their dolls and stuffed animals for centuries.
Do you talk to inanimate objects?
Lately, I've been anthromorphizing the beautiful, big evergreen trees, in my neighborhood, that a recent ice storm defrocked and denuded. I can actually imagine their pain when the branches finally gave way under the weight of the ice and heavy snow. All the broken limbs remind me of untreated broken arms and legs. Mother Nature shows no mercy when it comes to her fury and vengeance. (I suspect that I just anthromorphized Mother Nature.)
I don't have conversations of any length with my two houseplants. If I did have a 'chat' with them, it would run along the lines of informing ME that they needed more water. That is why there are only two, surviving houseplants.
I've always talked with my vehicles, especially in the winder months, when the snow can be deep and the roads slippery. I don't talk trash with them, either. Rather I utter words of encouragement. I also give my vehicles names.......a practice I've long observed, although currently, our little car has no name and probably never will. Years ago, I named our now, aging, gas-guzzler, Beast, which, for me, is a term of endearment. Beast and I have driven through many roads I would have thought impassable, but he always plows through and gets me to my destination. (Yes, Beast is a 'he'. If the vehicle were a 'she' its name wouldn't be Beast, but would still begin with a 'B'.)
And so I say to the world: Let us anthromorphize to our hearts' contents. Talking to inanimate objects doesn't hurt anyone.....as long as the object does not talk back.
Nice computer...nice computer.
Good kitty.....good kitty. Please don't bite me!
Ancora imparo
At the risk of boring or insulting any reader, allow me to include the definition and etymology of 'anthromorphism'. The meaning that I will go with, for this posting, is as follows: The tendency to attribute human characteristics to animals or inanimate objects. Its etymology is - from the Greek: anthropos - human; morphe - form.
I know lots of people, mostly women, who talk to their houseplants. That probably falls under the umbrella of anthromorphism. Millions of us have determined our house pets to be human-like and children have anthromorphized their dolls and stuffed animals for centuries.
Do you talk to inanimate objects?
Lately, I've been anthromorphizing the beautiful, big evergreen trees, in my neighborhood, that a recent ice storm defrocked and denuded. I can actually imagine their pain when the branches finally gave way under the weight of the ice and heavy snow. All the broken limbs remind me of untreated broken arms and legs. Mother Nature shows no mercy when it comes to her fury and vengeance. (I suspect that I just anthromorphized Mother Nature.)
I don't have conversations of any length with my two houseplants. If I did have a 'chat' with them, it would run along the lines of informing ME that they needed more water. That is why there are only two, surviving houseplants.
I've always talked with my vehicles, especially in the winder months, when the snow can be deep and the roads slippery. I don't talk trash with them, either. Rather I utter words of encouragement. I also give my vehicles names.......a practice I've long observed, although currently, our little car has no name and probably never will. Years ago, I named our now, aging, gas-guzzler, Beast, which, for me, is a term of endearment. Beast and I have driven through many roads I would have thought impassable, but he always plows through and gets me to my destination. (Yes, Beast is a 'he'. If the vehicle were a 'she' its name wouldn't be Beast, but would still begin with a 'B'.)
And so I say to the world: Let us anthromorphize to our hearts' contents. Talking to inanimate objects doesn't hurt anyone.....as long as the object does not talk back.
Nice computer...nice computer.
Good kitty.....good kitty. Please don't bite me!
Ancora imparo
Sunday, January 10, 2010
On The Hot Seat
"Have you ever been on the hot seat?"
I was asked that question this morning and responded by asking the question: "Do you mean a heated seat or 'under fire'?" I knew what the questioner meant but I was just busy being a Smarty Pants. We went on to have a discussion about what it means to be in charge of a group, a project, etc. We agreed that some individuals are born for leadership, others become prepared for the state of leadership, and yet others are not 'programmed' to lead anyone or anything. Unfortunately, some people, in the latter category, are thrust into the limelight of leadership due to extenuating or accidental circumstances and the results are dismal, at best. Other ineffectual leaders find themselves in important positions because they volunteer, seeing themselves as leaders, when, in fact, they are not.
Then we asked ourselves how could a person know if their skill sets were not matched to be able to fend off the inevitable criticism that comes with 'being on the hot seat'. A few, savvy folk instinctively understand they are not cut out to sit on the hot seat. A few others discover the hot seat is not for them in the veritable 'trial by fire' baptism that accompanies such a position, and another small percentage never do get the message, either internally or externally.
I've been 'on the hot seat' numerous moments in my life, as I am certain have many of the readers of this blog. At times it has been challenging, at times frustrating, at times downright fun, and, at other times, humbling, but never, never boring.
I will share my favorite hot seat with you........the two front seats in our little car. Those hot seats are pure pleasure and fortune to have at this time of year. They heat up quickly and retain their heat, even when the switch is first turned off. Much like the hot seats of life, my car's hot seats are comfortable until I've been there too long. Then I can choose to either turn them off OR get out of the car.
Hmmm, I think I've stumbled onto something!
Ancora imparo
I was asked that question this morning and responded by asking the question: "Do you mean a heated seat or 'under fire'?" I knew what the questioner meant but I was just busy being a Smarty Pants. We went on to have a discussion about what it means to be in charge of a group, a project, etc. We agreed that some individuals are born for leadership, others become prepared for the state of leadership, and yet others are not 'programmed' to lead anyone or anything. Unfortunately, some people, in the latter category, are thrust into the limelight of leadership due to extenuating or accidental circumstances and the results are dismal, at best. Other ineffectual leaders find themselves in important positions because they volunteer, seeing themselves as leaders, when, in fact, they are not.
Then we asked ourselves how could a person know if their skill sets were not matched to be able to fend off the inevitable criticism that comes with 'being on the hot seat'. A few, savvy folk instinctively understand they are not cut out to sit on the hot seat. A few others discover the hot seat is not for them in the veritable 'trial by fire' baptism that accompanies such a position, and another small percentage never do get the message, either internally or externally.
I've been 'on the hot seat' numerous moments in my life, as I am certain have many of the readers of this blog. At times it has been challenging, at times frustrating, at times downright fun, and, at other times, humbling, but never, never boring.
I will share my favorite hot seat with you........the two front seats in our little car. Those hot seats are pure pleasure and fortune to have at this time of year. They heat up quickly and retain their heat, even when the switch is first turned off. Much like the hot seats of life, my car's hot seats are comfortable until I've been there too long. Then I can choose to either turn them off OR get out of the car.
Hmmm, I think I've stumbled onto something!
Ancora imparo
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Dichotomies of Aging
Ah, the dichotomies of aging. On the one hand, if we humans are blessed, we have smaller, younger DNA models that hug us, kiss us, ask us "Why?", let us read to them, bake cookies for them, play hide n' seek with them and tuck them in when they visit.
As we age, wisdom is supposed to come with experience, but, in my experience, wisdom can be a whimsical visitor, one who comes unannounced, unexpected, or is a no-show. Consequently, I take exception to the notion that, as we age, our wisdom grows.
An additional plus side to aging is that you can say pretty much what you want because everyone else expects 'older' people to speak their mind, kind of like the dialogue in the movie, "Grumpy Old Men". In the same vein, if you sit in a rocking chair, mindlessly rocking to and fro, a bit of spittle slipping from your mouth, no one gives it a second thought, either.
There are some downsides, though. My internal clock is becoming confused as evidenced by my convoluted sleeping patterns. When the daylight wanes in the late afternoon, my body wants to slow down but as the once 'normal' bedtime approaches, my body is thrilled but my mind is smokin' hot. Why, ideas galore run through my head between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. If I wrote them all down, they would fill numerous note pads. I enjoy slipping out of bed any time after 5:00 a.m. and 'stealing' time from the world, especially in the winter months when dawn appears so late.
The physical body seems confused, as well. My memory is a bit shady, from time to time, and body parts are also perplexed. Areas that I want to shrink are not and those that I wish were ample are slowly fading away. If I went to my physician and asked for pharmaceuticals, he'd simply laugh because they would all cancel the other out. Some to diminish and some to plump. Hopeless.
I am comforted by the words of Forrest Gump: "Life's like a box of chocolates......."
I think I'll go eat some.
Ancora imparo
As we age, wisdom is supposed to come with experience, but, in my experience, wisdom can be a whimsical visitor, one who comes unannounced, unexpected, or is a no-show. Consequently, I take exception to the notion that, as we age, our wisdom grows.
An additional plus side to aging is that you can say pretty much what you want because everyone else expects 'older' people to speak their mind, kind of like the dialogue in the movie, "Grumpy Old Men". In the same vein, if you sit in a rocking chair, mindlessly rocking to and fro, a bit of spittle slipping from your mouth, no one gives it a second thought, either.
There are some downsides, though. My internal clock is becoming confused as evidenced by my convoluted sleeping patterns. When the daylight wanes in the late afternoon, my body wants to slow down but as the once 'normal' bedtime approaches, my body is thrilled but my mind is smokin' hot. Why, ideas galore run through my head between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. If I wrote them all down, they would fill numerous note pads. I enjoy slipping out of bed any time after 5:00 a.m. and 'stealing' time from the world, especially in the winter months when dawn appears so late.
The physical body seems confused, as well. My memory is a bit shady, from time to time, and body parts are also perplexed. Areas that I want to shrink are not and those that I wish were ample are slowly fading away. If I went to my physician and asked for pharmaceuticals, he'd simply laugh because they would all cancel the other out. Some to diminish and some to plump. Hopeless.
I am comforted by the words of Forrest Gump: "Life's like a box of chocolates......."
I think I'll go eat some.
Ancora imparo
Friday, January 8, 2010
If Only I'd.......
I have written before about my inability to 'see' most things mechanical. What can I say? I am not mechanically inclined and I learned to accept that long ago. I can remember taking aptitude tests in high school and never doing well in the areas that were mechanical in nature.
The other members of my nuclear family can look at a bag full of parts and visualize how they should fit together to form the object pictured on the box. My SO likes to take apart a piece of machinery to discover how it works AND he can put it back together again AND it will still work. I, on the other hand, recognize that the economy is slow and that other people depend on people like me to pick up the phone and hire them to make my machinery function properly.
I can look at an object all day long and never decipher how it works, runs, goes bump, or how the thingeymajig goes up and down. I still laugh at myself remembering when I tried to operate a small fishing boat with a rear-till motor. I could not get the small craft to do anything but go in circles, all the while my SO and I were laughing hysterically.
If you read yesterday's blog, you will recall I mentioned my very frustrating experience with my FS (Favorite Son) and all of the patient time he took trying to get my Christmas-gift web cam to display an image so we could video chat. After we ended our conversation together, I spent even more minutes attempting to solve the problem.....but to no avail. About an hour later, my SO came home. I muttered, mumbled, whined and complained about how frustrated I was, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I went my way and he went his. Just a few minutes later, Mr. Mechanical came to me, camera in hand, and quietly asked if I knew there was a lens cap on the web cam.
The web cam works just fine. I'm glad one half of this partnership is inclined to lift up the lens cap.
Ancora imparo
The other members of my nuclear family can look at a bag full of parts and visualize how they should fit together to form the object pictured on the box. My SO likes to take apart a piece of machinery to discover how it works AND he can put it back together again AND it will still work. I, on the other hand, recognize that the economy is slow and that other people depend on people like me to pick up the phone and hire them to make my machinery function properly.
I can look at an object all day long and never decipher how it works, runs, goes bump, or how the thingeymajig goes up and down. I still laugh at myself remembering when I tried to operate a small fishing boat with a rear-till motor. I could not get the small craft to do anything but go in circles, all the while my SO and I were laughing hysterically.
If you read yesterday's blog, you will recall I mentioned my very frustrating experience with my FS (Favorite Son) and all of the patient time he took trying to get my Christmas-gift web cam to display an image so we could video chat. After we ended our conversation together, I spent even more minutes attempting to solve the problem.....but to no avail. About an hour later, my SO came home. I muttered, mumbled, whined and complained about how frustrated I was, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I went my way and he went his. Just a few minutes later, Mr. Mechanical came to me, camera in hand, and quietly asked if I knew there was a lens cap on the web cam.
The web cam works just fine. I'm glad one half of this partnership is inclined to lift up the lens cap.
Ancora imparo
Thursday, January 7, 2010
A Prevailing Fallacy
The content of this posting was motivated by a chipped fingernail. No kidding.
I had just spent forty-five minutes, or so, with my FS (Favorite Son), who tried valiantly to help me get a video picture from my new Christmas-present web cam. The upside was a wonderful conversation with him (time.....the best gift of all). The downside was that after all of the clicking, restarting, waiting for downloads...............everything associated with installing what the computer 'sees' as new hardware..........we could not get a picture of me to show in the little black box.
After concluding our conversation and ill-fated attempt to bring good 'old Mom into the new decade with video calls, I discovered a chipped fingernail when my hand brushed against fabric. Closer examination revealed a tiny snag that I knew I should 'fix' or risk being annoyed all day. A quick reach into my handbag produced a nail file and, ten seconds later, the nail was smooth and that annoyance was easily dispatched. I re-visited my frustration and disappointment surrounding the effort to get the web cam to function versus the speedy solution to the chipped nail. Then I re-visited yesterday (bad idea, I know). The long drive that produced more questions than answers, the ultra-vexing meeting in the evening that produced lots of questions followed by vague, politically expedient answers - at best - and I realized that the nail fix was the anomaly, not the norm.
Here's the 'but':
But, in our society, we demand quick answers, fixes, solutions and remedies, don't we? We've created the prevailing fallacy that all weighty matters can be resolved with expediency! Want to lose weight? Take a pill or purchase a machine that will give you a sculpted body with only ten minutes per day. Have a personal problem? Buy the latest pop-culture book penned by a celebrity who has found all the answers. Need spiritual guidance? Find a mega-church that preaches what we want to hear.....not what we need to hear. Need to mend your finances? Call this toll-free number and an operator will be standing by ready to help take your money when you need it.
I realize that there are seldom easy (nor quick) answers, fixes, solutions or remedies to life's daily, provoking issues. 'But', I want them! I want the giant, neon sign-in-the-sky to light up with script that tells me exactly what I want to hear.
I don't think this is going to happen any time soon.
I think I'll just get my nail file out again. That was easy.
Ancora imparo
I had just spent forty-five minutes, or so, with my FS (Favorite Son), who tried valiantly to help me get a video picture from my new Christmas-present web cam. The upside was a wonderful conversation with him (time.....the best gift of all). The downside was that after all of the clicking, restarting, waiting for downloads...............everything associated with installing what the computer 'sees' as new hardware..........we could not get a picture of me to show in the little black box.
After concluding our conversation and ill-fated attempt to bring good 'old Mom into the new decade with video calls, I discovered a chipped fingernail when my hand brushed against fabric. Closer examination revealed a tiny snag that I knew I should 'fix' or risk being annoyed all day. A quick reach into my handbag produced a nail file and, ten seconds later, the nail was smooth and that annoyance was easily dispatched. I re-visited my frustration and disappointment surrounding the effort to get the web cam to function versus the speedy solution to the chipped nail. Then I re-visited yesterday (bad idea, I know). The long drive that produced more questions than answers, the ultra-vexing meeting in the evening that produced lots of questions followed by vague, politically expedient answers - at best - and I realized that the nail fix was the anomaly, not the norm.
Here's the 'but':
But, in our society, we demand quick answers, fixes, solutions and remedies, don't we? We've created the prevailing fallacy that all weighty matters can be resolved with expediency! Want to lose weight? Take a pill or purchase a machine that will give you a sculpted body with only ten minutes per day. Have a personal problem? Buy the latest pop-culture book penned by a celebrity who has found all the answers. Need spiritual guidance? Find a mega-church that preaches what we want to hear.....not what we need to hear. Need to mend your finances? Call this toll-free number and an operator will be standing by ready to help take your money when you need it.
I realize that there are seldom easy (nor quick) answers, fixes, solutions or remedies to life's daily, provoking issues. 'But', I want them! I want the giant, neon sign-in-the-sky to light up with script that tells me exactly what I want to hear.
I don't think this is going to happen any time soon.
I think I'll just get my nail file out again. That was easy.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
An Odd Day
Up way before sunrise, my SO and I tucked ourselves into our little car and headed north......four and a half hours north, to be exact. It seemed odd to be heading north in January - that trek usually being reserved for the months of May through October. Milwaukee traffic did not slow us down too much and we reached our 11:00 a.m. destination and appointment on time. Slogging through snow and ice-covered walkways, climbing over rather tall fences, and ducking between and under very large boats, we took our took the tour with the helpful guide who patiently answered all of our questions. Seeing the northern waters frozen and snowy was a first for us. All we had were our imaginations to carry us through as we walked about in the cold. After the tour, which lasted about an hour and a half, we found a Mom and Pop restaurant, got a bite to eat while we discussed all that we had seen, checked out another marina, then folded ourselves, once again, into our little car and headed back home for yet another four-and-a-half-hour drive. Upon arriving home we scarfed down some soup and got into our little car - again - to attend a meeting. As soon as we were backing down the driveway, we both commented that the very last place either one of us wanted to be was in the car going anywhere!
SO had set the trip meter in the morning and our driving today totaled just over five hundred miles. Of course, the words five hundred miles brought to mind the song that I must have sung at least five hundred times during my youth - "Five Hundred Miles" - made famous by both the Kingston Trio and the group Peter, Paul and Mary. Just about every person who was in junior or senior high school during the sixties or early seventies would be familiar with this song that was a campfire staple. Put a group of young people together with a fire and a guitar and you had "Five Hundred Miles".
It was just an odd day. Odd to travel so many miles (on purpose, no less), odd to be taken back in my mind to junior and senior high school, odd to be traipsing through marinas in January, odd to get home and turn right around and leave again, odd to be going to a meeting (on purpose, no less) that we really did not want to attend and odd to be blogging this late at night. (That is odd for me. Not the rest of you night owls.)
The challenge for me now will be to turn my mind off for the night. I need to 'park' the mental pictures from the day and the evening's meeting that was truly frustrating.
I know just the trick, too. I'll sing myself to sleep with the lyrics from the last stanza of "Five Hundred Miles":
If you miss the train I'm on,
You will know that I am gone.
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.
A hundred miles,
A hundred miles,
A hundred miles,
A hundred miles,
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.
Good night.
Ancora imparo
SO had set the trip meter in the morning and our driving today totaled just over five hundred miles. Of course, the words five hundred miles brought to mind the song that I must have sung at least five hundred times during my youth - "Five Hundred Miles" - made famous by both the Kingston Trio and the group Peter, Paul and Mary. Just about every person who was in junior or senior high school during the sixties or early seventies would be familiar with this song that was a campfire staple. Put a group of young people together with a fire and a guitar and you had "Five Hundred Miles".
It was just an odd day. Odd to travel so many miles (on purpose, no less), odd to be taken back in my mind to junior and senior high school, odd to be traipsing through marinas in January, odd to get home and turn right around and leave again, odd to be going to a meeting (on purpose, no less) that we really did not want to attend and odd to be blogging this late at night. (That is odd for me. Not the rest of you night owls.)
The challenge for me now will be to turn my mind off for the night. I need to 'park' the mental pictures from the day and the evening's meeting that was truly frustrating.
I know just the trick, too. I'll sing myself to sleep with the lyrics from the last stanza of "Five Hundred Miles":
If you miss the train I'm on,
You will know that I am gone.
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.
A hundred miles,
A hundred miles,
A hundred miles,
A hundred miles,
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.
Good night.
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
By Hook Or By Crook
To my knowledge, the phrase, 'by hook or by crook' has been around the block a few times. I'm certain I remember people my grandparents' age uttering the phrase and I know my parents did, as well. My take on its meaning is that 'I'll get the job done by hook or by crook or, by any means necessary.
Imagine if our nation's elected leaders - or appointed leaders, for that matter - adopted, or had adopted, this attitude.......present or past. Some leaders do seem to have taken the lead suggested by this phrase, both for positive and negative results. Ronald Reagan's presidency seemingly lived the idea, although hindsight does indicate that some Reaganomic's-residue is now returning to bite our economy in the proverbial behind. Historians can point to other administrations that walked the walk and talked the talk, but whose legacies were not particularly favorable to the American public.
To wit, I have jobs that I have been procrastinating on for far too long. I need to adopt the mantra of 'by hook or by crook'. I must now 'should' on myself and do whatever it takes to get these tasks off my January 'to-do' list. Who knows if history (or my family) will look upon my efforts kindly or with scorn? I cannot be held hostage by what I think reactions will be........either gentle, appreciative, or laughing. All I know is that my list is becoming so long that it trails behind me when I carry it around.
It is time to get things done........by hook or by crook. No more excuses, roadblocks or whining........by me or anyone else.
Ancora imparo
Imagine if our nation's elected leaders - or appointed leaders, for that matter - adopted, or had adopted, this attitude.......present or past. Some leaders do seem to have taken the lead suggested by this phrase, both for positive and negative results. Ronald Reagan's presidency seemingly lived the idea, although hindsight does indicate that some Reaganomic's-residue is now returning to bite our economy in the proverbial behind. Historians can point to other administrations that walked the walk and talked the talk, but whose legacies were not particularly favorable to the American public.
To wit, I have jobs that I have been procrastinating on for far too long. I need to adopt the mantra of 'by hook or by crook'. I must now 'should' on myself and do whatever it takes to get these tasks off my January 'to-do' list. Who knows if history (or my family) will look upon my efforts kindly or with scorn? I cannot be held hostage by what I think reactions will be........either gentle, appreciative, or laughing. All I know is that my list is becoming so long that it trails behind me when I carry it around.
It is time to get things done........by hook or by crook. No more excuses, roadblocks or whining........by me or anyone else.
Ancora imparo
Monday, January 4, 2010
We Hardly Knew Ye, Sir Isaac!
Disclaimer: Today's posting is a little 'out there', but it has been a tough day and my mind just went in this direction.......kind of like an untrained puppy.
Today, the world celebrates the birthday of Sir Isaac Newton. Not wanting to seem cavalier about the birth of one so important in the world of science and mathematics, I went to my favorite source of information, Wikipedia, the End-All of Sources.
My first mistake was empirical in nature. I'm certain that Sir Isaac would not have neglected to ascertain how many pages would print off when he clicked on the 'print' symbol. I did not check, and instead, went to do something else after hitting 'print'. (second mistake) Much to my dismay, twenty-three pages later, I had wasted more ink than I would have ever imagined. I did read through the text though, and now feel as if I am well-acquainted with the man himself.
Sir Isaac was an authentic Renaissance Man, having great knowledge in a wide variety of subjects, displaying the ability to exercise both the left and right hemispheres of his brain. How fascinating that while being a renowned man of science, he was also a theologian.
During my days of matriculation, I avoided anything science-related (or math-related, for that matter) like the bubonic plague. I took the required years of coursework in math and science for both my secondary and post-secondary education but had no heart for it, nor pathetically little aptitude, either. Consequently, my knowledge of Sir Isaac's accomplishments lies mostly in his work in the area of gravity.
"What goes up must come down.", aptly sums up my take-away from Sir Isaac. This is hard to admit but, in 2010, I've committed to truth-telling, no matter the consequence. Wanting to leave the readers of this blog with some tie-in to where I am today, I would equate Sir Isaac's work in the area of gravity thusly:
"What used to be 'up', is now coming down" - drooping at an alarming rate of droopage. (Droopage may be a term with which Sir Isaac was unfamiliar. He was a bachelor his entire life.) If the droopage rate increases in velocity, I'll be raking up body parts daily in the near future.
I am rapidly approaching critical mass.......and I am not a Catholic. Save me, Sir Isaac!
Ancora imparo
Today, the world celebrates the birthday of Sir Isaac Newton. Not wanting to seem cavalier about the birth of one so important in the world of science and mathematics, I went to my favorite source of information, Wikipedia, the End-All of Sources.
My first mistake was empirical in nature. I'm certain that Sir Isaac would not have neglected to ascertain how many pages would print off when he clicked on the 'print' symbol. I did not check, and instead, went to do something else after hitting 'print'. (second mistake) Much to my dismay, twenty-three pages later, I had wasted more ink than I would have ever imagined. I did read through the text though, and now feel as if I am well-acquainted with the man himself.
Sir Isaac was an authentic Renaissance Man, having great knowledge in a wide variety of subjects, displaying the ability to exercise both the left and right hemispheres of his brain. How fascinating that while being a renowned man of science, he was also a theologian.
During my days of matriculation, I avoided anything science-related (or math-related, for that matter) like the bubonic plague. I took the required years of coursework in math and science for both my secondary and post-secondary education but had no heart for it, nor pathetically little aptitude, either. Consequently, my knowledge of Sir Isaac's accomplishments lies mostly in his work in the area of gravity.
"What goes up must come down.", aptly sums up my take-away from Sir Isaac. This is hard to admit but, in 2010, I've committed to truth-telling, no matter the consequence. Wanting to leave the readers of this blog with some tie-in to where I am today, I would equate Sir Isaac's work in the area of gravity thusly:
"What used to be 'up', is now coming down" - drooping at an alarming rate of droopage. (Droopage may be a term with which Sir Isaac was unfamiliar. He was a bachelor his entire life.) If the droopage rate increases in velocity, I'll be raking up body parts daily in the near future.
I am rapidly approaching critical mass.......and I am not a Catholic. Save me, Sir Isaac!
Ancora imparo
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Drawer Faeries
My residence has had recent night-visitors. Those marauding Drawer Faeries that come stealthily whilst you sleep and mess up drawers that you would swear, up to that point, had been perfectly organized.
Oh, come on, now. Don't feign confusion. You know what I'm talkin' about. You can 'fess up to owning at least one Drawer - mine is in the kitchen - that takes on a life of its own, from time to time.
I recognized the Drawer Faeries work instantly. Suddenly, (it always happens suddenly, doesn't it?) the Drawer would no longer close properly.
It was a kitchen work-day. An attempt to bring the contents of the refrigerator under control from the Holly Daze. I was fiend-like in my zeal to either search and destroy foods that had passed their prime or, search and cook foods that I could salvage. A large pot of turkey/vegetable/barley soup was underway and every usable vegetable was fair game. Having opened the Drawer to grab for the vegetable peeler, I went to thrust it shut and the Drawer refused to close.
As an aside: This scenario was further confounded by two outside influences - the presence of the great over-seerer, monitoring my my kitchen movements, and the fact that one of the 'noyed's' was visiting. Having an 'noyed' visit at such times only adds to the ability of an 'noyance' to flash rather quickly.
So, when my beloved SO inquired, "What's the matter, dear?", my response was not one of a calm and cultured nature. I immediately set about rutting through the Drawer, looking for the offending utensil that was preventing the Drawer from closing. Gazing into the Drawer, I scarcely recognized its contents. Gone were the precisely placed spatulas, whisks, knives, etc. that had once inhabited the Drawer. Instead I was gazing at a hodge-podge of carelessly thrown utensils, probably from the excitement of the Holly Daze. Two spatulas had grown to six or seven and two chip-clips had increased to five or six........and they take up a lot of space. When I made the discovery of two large potato-mashers that I did not know existed, I knew that the Drawer Faeries had visited us.
Although I had sworn NOT to make a list of resolutions for this new decade, I now have a list with one bulleted point on it: Drawer inspections. I'm pretty sure the Drawer Faeries did not limit their antics to just one.
May the Drawer Faeries pass you by. Hang a spatula at your front door.
Ancora imparo
Oh, come on, now. Don't feign confusion. You know what I'm talkin' about. You can 'fess up to owning at least one Drawer - mine is in the kitchen - that takes on a life of its own, from time to time.
I recognized the Drawer Faeries work instantly. Suddenly, (it always happens suddenly, doesn't it?) the Drawer would no longer close properly.
It was a kitchen work-day. An attempt to bring the contents of the refrigerator under control from the Holly Daze. I was fiend-like in my zeal to either search and destroy foods that had passed their prime or, search and cook foods that I could salvage. A large pot of turkey/vegetable/barley soup was underway and every usable vegetable was fair game. Having opened the Drawer to grab for the vegetable peeler, I went to thrust it shut and the Drawer refused to close.
As an aside: This scenario was further confounded by two outside influences - the presence of the great over-seerer, monitoring my my kitchen movements, and the fact that one of the 'noyed's' was visiting. Having an 'noyed' visit at such times only adds to the ability of an 'noyance' to flash rather quickly.
So, when my beloved SO inquired, "What's the matter, dear?", my response was not one of a calm and cultured nature. I immediately set about rutting through the Drawer, looking for the offending utensil that was preventing the Drawer from closing. Gazing into the Drawer, I scarcely recognized its contents. Gone were the precisely placed spatulas, whisks, knives, etc. that had once inhabited the Drawer. Instead I was gazing at a hodge-podge of carelessly thrown utensils, probably from the excitement of the Holly Daze. Two spatulas had grown to six or seven and two chip-clips had increased to five or six........and they take up a lot of space. When I made the discovery of two large potato-mashers that I did not know existed, I knew that the Drawer Faeries had visited us.
Although I had sworn NOT to make a list of resolutions for this new decade, I now have a list with one bulleted point on it: Drawer inspections. I'm pretty sure the Drawer Faeries did not limit their antics to just one.
May the Drawer Faeries pass you by. Hang a spatula at your front door.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, January 2, 2010
But It Was A Prime Day
Although this is the second day of the new year, still, I am fascinated by the numbers associated with yesterday: 01/01/10.
I am not into numerology, nor do I follow the occult, but I would think that the numbers associated with this particular New Year's Day would be of great interest to numerologists. To satisfy my own curiosity, I found the following definition of numerology:
"Numerology is any of many systems, traditions or beliefs in a mystical or esoteric relationship between numbers and physical objects or living things."Still curios, I wondered if the numbers one or ten was a prime number so I looked up 'prime numbers' and this is what I found:
"Everything that can only be divided by itself or 1 is prime, but 1 is not a prime number."
Unwilling to be thwarted by no significance to 01/01/10, I decided to assign my own significance to those numbers.
- Paramount to me is the fact that it was the first day of a new decade.
- By the end of this new decade, I'll be ten years older (scary thought) and my firstborn grandchild will be closer to fourteen than thirteen.
- Cranky Kitty will probably no longer terrorize anyone trying to brush her.
- My beloved, gas-guzzling Beast will probably not belong to my SO and I any more.
- We will not be traveling the Great Lakes on our Aqua RV.
- My favorite slippers will have had to be discarded........about ten years too late.
- I should have used up all my mid-Michigan navy beans by then.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Hip? No Way!
I know I am square. I know that I am not hip, never have been, and never will be. The only thing 'hip' about me is the area below my waist and above my knees. That 'hip' is real and wouldn't fit into a round hole, either!
I know I am square because I have been described that way by family......as only family can get away with describing someone in a teasing tone.
Am I embarrassed to be 'square'? Not in the least. I was solidly square in high school and have remained that way into my later, middle-aged years. I have no plans to change, nor would I want to. 'Square' people have just as much fun as the 'unsquare'. When I consider the opposite of 'square', I come up with 'round' and I have no desire to become any more 'round' than I am. In fact, I need to become less 'round'.
When 'square' people become smaller, do they become rectangular? After all, geometrically-speaking, a rectangle is simply a square, only smaller in certain dimensions. (Maybe that is why I did not do so well in integrated geometry in high school?)
While I'm at it, let me send this message to those who think they are more 'hip' than those of us who are square:
Square people know how to have a good time and they have a 'good time' lots of the time. We're the ones who are smiling, watching you 'hip' people, who think you are the really 'cool' ones.
In conclusion, on this first day of a new year and a new decade, I have an 'unhip' word to put out into circulation: Re-chill. This is a better word than the 'hip' word 'chillax', which I think is a silly combination of chill and relax. To 're-chill' indicates that one was 'chilled-out' in the first place and simply needs to return to the state of 'chill', as opposed to 'chillax' which carries no prior connotation to it. If I greeted the majority of people I know with "Chillax", they would most assuredly stare at me and wonder what in the world I just said to them, whereas if I said "Re-chill", a higher percentage would understand my instruction and might actually begin to relax again.
I thought it appropriate to celebrate the first day of this new year with some type of posting that would acknowledge my 'squaredness' and pay homage to all of the other 'squared' people in this world.
In case you, the reader, are stressed out by the list of resolutions you have been preparing since the stroke of last night's midnight, I say onto you:
Re-chill.
Ancora imparo
I know I am square because I have been described that way by family......as only family can get away with describing someone in a teasing tone.
Am I embarrassed to be 'square'? Not in the least. I was solidly square in high school and have remained that way into my later, middle-aged years. I have no plans to change, nor would I want to. 'Square' people have just as much fun as the 'unsquare'. When I consider the opposite of 'square', I come up with 'round' and I have no desire to become any more 'round' than I am. In fact, I need to become less 'round'.
When 'square' people become smaller, do they become rectangular? After all, geometrically-speaking, a rectangle is simply a square, only smaller in certain dimensions. (Maybe that is why I did not do so well in integrated geometry in high school?)
While I'm at it, let me send this message to those who think they are more 'hip' than those of us who are square:
Square people know how to have a good time and they have a 'good time' lots of the time. We're the ones who are smiling, watching you 'hip' people, who think you are the really 'cool' ones.
In conclusion, on this first day of a new year and a new decade, I have an 'unhip' word to put out into circulation: Re-chill. This is a better word than the 'hip' word 'chillax', which I think is a silly combination of chill and relax. To 're-chill' indicates that one was 'chilled-out' in the first place and simply needs to return to the state of 'chill', as opposed to 'chillax' which carries no prior connotation to it. If I greeted the majority of people I know with "Chillax", they would most assuredly stare at me and wonder what in the world I just said to them, whereas if I said "Re-chill", a higher percentage would understand my instruction and might actually begin to relax again.
I thought it appropriate to celebrate the first day of this new year with some type of posting that would acknowledge my 'squaredness' and pay homage to all of the other 'squared' people in this world.
In case you, the reader, are stressed out by the list of resolutions you have been preparing since the stroke of last night's midnight, I say onto you:
Re-chill.
Ancora imparo
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