My Own Restoration Rally

Restoration Rallies seem to be the 'in' instrument to voice American's opinions.  Gone are the days of the sit-ins, street demonstrations like we had in East Lansing, Michigan in the late 1960's, marches in Washington D.C., bra-burnings, pantie raids, etc.  Today's protests are pablum compared to the activism this country witnessed in the fifties, sixties, and early seventies.  By the time the mid-seventies came we were simply into disco and big hair and we had forgotten what we were upset about as a nation.

Now we have the Restoration Rallies, as I call them.  Restoring this and that has become more like a 'restore du jour' rather than a true attempt at sincerity.  Earlier this summer, in August, Glenn Beck held his "Restoring Honor" Rally in our nation's capital.  Yesterday saw Comedians Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart hold their "Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear" at the National Mall in Washington D.C.  So, what's next, you might ask yourself.

I'm proposing the "Rally To Restore Law and Order and Law and Order - Criminal Intent".  As a once loyal viewer of these two programs, I was incensed and disappointed at NBC's short-sightedness in either canceling outright, as in the case of "Law and Order" or the network's slow-death approach in the case of "Law and Order - Criminal Intent".

NBC, just what were you thinking?

The network's pathetic attempt at  replacement for these two fine shows is the lackluster, "Law and Order - Los Angeles".  The characters are weak and the actors portraying the characters are even weaker.  Nothing about this new show inspires any repeat viewing, whereas the two shows NBC canned were still well-crafted and well-acted.  NBC, is your new motto, "If it works, let's cancel it?"

Hence, my "Rally to Restore Law and Order and Law and Order - Criminal Intent".  Here is a rally idea that could bring national unity on a coast-to-coast level, a rally idea that could boost employment levels for a number of people in the television industry and restore the average American's confidence that Hollywood really cares about what John Q. Public thinks. 

Let's rally around something really important for this great land:  Bring back Law and Order and Law and Order - Criminal Intent!

Ancora imparo

Glorious Day

So far, today, I've ruled the world with Cold Play, I've learned the power of love with Huey Lewis and the News, I've built a city with Jefferson Starship, I've been to Wuthering Heights with Kate Bush, learned about pool combos and guys who are too good looking from Carrie Underwood, been out ridin' fences with the Eagles, taken the long way home with SuperTramp, figured out how not to be a fool with Kenny Loggins, heard about Daniel Powter's bad day, been too hot with Queen, gone crazy with Lindsey Buckingham's Tusk and zoomed whom with Aretha Franklin.  All in a day's work with my i-Pod.

Sometimes I wonder what passersby must think as I'm on a walkabout with my i-Pod.  My background and training as a musician and band director makes it impossible for me to not walk to the beat of whatever tune I'm listening to.  There are particular lyrics that resonate with me and I'll have to resist the urge to break into song (I'm not always successful resisting this urge.) and there are also lyrics that simply create this huge smile across my face.  I cannot reveal what the smile-creating lyrics are.  I'm a bit more non-traditional in thought than most people think. :) 

It did occur to me, this morning as I walked, that humans and trees deal with the approaching cold weather in totally opposite ways:  The trees lose their layers and the humans add layers, which is oddly comforting in a weird way.  The temps were in the mid-thirties but I was dressed for the occasion and tromping up and down the cul-de-sac inclines were good for both the body and soul.  My SO was out at a breakfast meeting so when I returned home I could keep my i-Pod on and groove about the condo as I moved furniture and swept the floors.  Being alone provided me the opportunity to dance with my broom with no one casting disbelieving looks my way.

May all of today's Ancora imparo readers dance with their brooms.

Ancora imparo

Some Things Are Easier Than I Think

Do you ever dread tackling chores, making a decision, announcing a decision, following through with a commitment that seemed like a good idea at the time, making an uncomfortable phone call, having a dental or surgical procedure done, etc.?  There are numerous situations that we humans encounter on a daily basis that we really wish we didn't have to do or start.  We should be able to find comfort in numbers, but just because we know others experience the same discomfort does not make it any easier for me or you.

There are those individuals who seem to bluster their way through life with seemingly little distress associated with making others feel uncomfortable.  If we are fortunate, we only have close contact with one person like that - knowing more than one can reduce us to stammering, stuttering and sleepless nights.  Persons with bull-in-the-china-shop personalities appear to be incapable of fear, pain, dis-ease, social discomfort, or suffering from low self-esteem.  Yet, I have to believe that, somewhere below the surface and deeply buried, lie real human beings that possess the same foibles and insecurities that the rest of the population contend with on a regular basis.

But, I digress....to a point.  Yesterday I encountered several situations after which I found myself thinking, "That was easier than I thought it would be." 

After some days of hand-wringing about parting with certain items from my sort-and-purge exercises, I left said items at Goodwill and haven't looked back since then.  Once I drove away, the angst produced by thinking about not having them dissipated. In other words, I'm over it.  I sat through a dental procedure without any anesthetic, at the dentist's recommendation because I'd get a better fit on my crown, and, despite five or six 'jolts' from a metal probe, I lived to tell about it.  (Yea, me, thought I to myself!)  I made a phone call that I had avoided and also lived to tell about that.  Situations and actions that I had dreaded turned out to be non-life-threatening or shortening.  Yet, today I have still another 'list' of things to accomplish or deal with that I would just as soon feed to the local hyenas, I'm that fond of the items on the list.  Is this what we signed up for when we agreed to breath at birth?  Glee one minute, relaxation another, interspersed with fleeting (hopefully) moments of 'situational trepidation' when facing dilemmas.  I guess this is what we call life.

Still better than the alternative!

Ancora imparo

Artistic Absence

I have a dearth of artistic talent.  I really would like to be able to draw but the best I can seem to do is fashion stick people and animals.  Other objects look almost as skeleton-like as my stick people.  I would love to be able to design a caricature of a shark - one that is sportin' a 'tude', as they say, but I hold out little hope for anything other than a stick shark. 

Then again, what is wrong with a stick shark?  The shark's name will be Sherman, The Shark and he will be elemental in giving life-lessons to children.  At least, that is my present plan for Sherman.  Sherman will need to possess personality-plus and have a child-engaging persona.  His facial countenance will, by design, have to be one that changes by the page.  Impish one moment and thoughtful and reflective on the next page.  Sherman will have to be part teacher, mentor, clown, friend, child-psychologist, and child of God.

Am I asking too much of Sherman?  Only time and pages will tell.  Right now, Sherman is just an idea, a glint in my eye, an alter-ego for Patty, The Clown, a pulpit from which to foster growth for children's imaginations.  I think there will be a little (or large) part of me in Sherman.  Sherman will bring out the child in me, but, most of all, Sherman will love children......especially the Three Musketeers.

I think I'm ready to be the "Shermanator"!

Ancora imparo

The Incongruity Of It All

Irony.  I am experiencing irony in spades while I sit at my desk with my laptop. 

In front of me, just to the left, in my peripheral field of vision, is a letter from the Secretary of State.  It begins, "Dear Safe Driver" and tells me that, due to my safe driving record, I can apply for my license renewal online, in lieu of applying in person at my local Secretary of State's satellite office.  This is great......very convenient.

It is ironic that this letter was prominently displayed while I just visited a web site for the British Broadcast Corporation's television show, "Top Gear".

Have you ever heard of "Top Gear" or seen a segment of the show?

I had not, on both counts.  The link to the show came from a friend's blog site.  He usually has quirky and interesting viewpoints and site links, so I decided to take a peek, based on his blog title, which was "Top Gear".  I was bested by my curiosity.

The link was to a recent CBS "Sixty Minutes" segment that featured the BBC's hit show, "Top Gear".  While watching the fifteen-or-so-minute clip, I do not know if I spent more time laughing at the outrageous behavior of the four principal characters, laughing at the outrageous statements made by three of the characters, closing my mouth after jaw-dropping scenes/stunts, or feeling as if I needed adult diapers after seeing scene after scene of gravity-challening behaviors involving motor vehicles that are driven at exceptionally high speeds by either exceptionally brave or stupid men. Interspersed with camera shots of unbelievably maniacal driving were vignettes of interviews with three of the four men.  The Brits have a corner on dry, tongue-in-cheek humor and three of these 'dudes' would take first prize.  

How ironic that I can see my 'safe driving letter of commendation' while watching a show that glorifies high-speed, death-defying driving stunts and I laugh?!?!  I am certain that the high winds we are still experiencing are affecting my brain and judgment.  I must be oxygen deprived.

Go see for yourself at  http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=6987703n&tag=related;photovideo

Ancora imparo

Ah, The Wind Did Howl

Howling wind, cracking dead wood, a crashing boom, small branches littering the yard and deck.....all in the early morning work of my favorite maternal figure, Mother Nature.  The dead tree in our backyard has been halved - and not by a chain saw.

The sound of the wind, through the wee hours of this morning, took me back a few years to a night, in our former home, when a straight-line wind raged through our area.  Of course, my SO was traveling, so it was just the kids, me and Max.  Our home was in a forest preserve and we were surrounded by trees on every side of the property.  The intense wind carried with it a sound that I will never forget.  To this day, I become ill at ease whenever I hear a wind-sound that even remotely resembles that night-wind sound of years past.  As with last night's tree-wresting, the wind of years-past took down two large trees.  We were lucky then, as now.  Our present, ripped-apart tree broke in two, so its upper half is well away from the condo.  Back then, we lost one big tree which did partially fall on the roof but did no damage.  The other downed-tree fell in a perfect horizontal line with the garage, missing the house and basketball hoop. It is the audible sound of the tree breaking and falling that is indelibly etched in my aural memory.   

As I sit at my laptop with a view to the street-side of the condo, I can see the effects of the still-high wind and even higher gusts.  Where is the wind farm when it could be useful?  I can only imagine the power that is being generated through this storm via the extensive wind farm in the central part of our state.  Looking out my window, I can see that even the younger trees are struggling as they are whipped about,  losing their leaves with a dizzying rapidity.  Debris is whizzing down the street, along with leaves and branches.  An occasional newspaper flies by.....some people did not get out to fetch theirs before the wind took ownership.

Hold on to your hats today, folks. 

A general tip:  This is not a day for a bumbershoot!

Ancora imparo

Time to Halt The Folly?

Regular readers will know that I am currently going through a process of reducing the household inventory in our condo.  This is a task I perform on a somewhat regular basis, but this time, I am adding a layer of depth to the project that has not been present heretofore.  (My favorite word - there are just not many opportunities to use the word heretofore.)  It is as if I am my own psychiatrist (Heaven knows, I probably need one!) and patient - all at once, lounging about on a therapy sofa in a plush, yet sterile office, box of tissues nearby and a well-dressed man or woman sitting in a stuffed chair, opposite me, hands folded, with a patient facial look that says, "Come on, get on with this.  My 4:00 is due soon." 

This time, not only am I sorting, throwing, reorganizing, etc. but I am also examining the questions, "Why should I keep this?" or "Why have I kept this?" in conjunction with every item I touch or see.  I am a big believer of sentimentality, or used to be, but now I debate why I should be sentimental about something I never see, touch, or use.  Yes, all of those doll clothes I made for the kids' Cabbage Patch dolls are cute but what use are they now, especially when they are routinely stored in a plastic container, high up on a shelf that requires a step-stool to reach?   Yes, all of the keepsake figurines and other glassware items sitting in china cabinets have meaning to me but, for most of them, I cannot remember from whence they came or whose possessions they used to be.  Why would these possessions have meaning to my children and for what purpose would my kids want them?  To continue the legacy of becoming wrapped up and stored in a box somewhere on a shelf or in an attic or storage locker? 

I am beginning to conclude that it may be time to put a halt to the folly of what I will call 'legacy storage'.  If the item or items have been boxed up, on some shelf in my condo - and house before that - never seeing the light of day unless the box is opened and the contents pulled out, then I see no purpose for keeping the contents, possessions, belongings, etc.  Yes, Grandma's old, faded and worn quilt felt good when I was a cold child but that is a memory that only I can draw upon.  My children will never know that memory and, therefore, keeping Grandma's old quilt serves no purpose but to take up space.  I have my memories, stored carefully upon the shelves of my mind and that is the best storage space possible. It is time to begin the process of halting the folly.

I had better act quickly.  This will be easier said than done.  My resolve will be tested.

Ancora imparo 

Primary Colors

I love this 'tween' season.  We are well into autumn but there are enough leaves on the trees to still appreciate the fall color parade of primary colors.  As I have driven about the past few days, including a drive this morning and my walk this afternoon, I've witnessed Mother Nature's artistic side first-hand.  She does have a way with the color palette and her usage of yellows, oranges, reds, and greens is impressive.  Even though, for my geographic area, we are on the back-side of the color parade, there are still enough contrasting hues to weave together a visual quilt of a magnificent nature.  The red maple trees, on my street alone, are enough to evoke 'oohs and ahhs' every time I see them. 

Temperatures this time of year can fluctuate rather wildly and Mother Nature has shown her hand in this area, as well.  Our lone, outdoor flowering plant got some of its leaves bitten by Frost, not the poet, and the leaves continue to fall rapidly from the trees.  Yesterday and today the weather is of a more balmy, gloomy, and damp nature.  I found a 'dry' window of time this afternoon and got out walking in just a sleeveless shirt and capri pants.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring - could be more of the same or back to colder temperatures. 

Whatever she throws at us, this is Mother Nature at her quixotic and quirky best.  She likes to keep the public guessing as well as the local television meteorologists.  There is nothing wrong with that, although my friends with rheumatoid arthritis would prefer to stay with just one type of weather.  Soon enough, we will all be looking at one and only one kind of weather pattern.......white and cold.   

I, for one, am not complaining about this fall season.  It is spectacular to look at and rather pleasant to live in.  I'm not a big fan of white and cold.

Ancora imparo

Cobwebs Aren't Just For Halloween

It must be the weather, or changing weather patterns, or the change of seasons:  More and more people seem to be befuddled and others are noticing and becoming befuddled about the increasing befuddlement of others.  I can feel, sense and read about this burgeoning befuddlement; indeed, I, myself, can ascertain a certain rise in my personal condition of obtuseness. 

Today's hovering weather pattern of clouded skies and drizzle are combining to produce a gloominess that is hard to overcome with normal activities.  This weather inspires sipping cups of steaming liquid while reading in my favorite chair, not summoning the energy required to plunge further into my project of purging personal junque.  Grey, overcast skies help to feed befuddled brains, not clear them of cobwebs.  Just this week, a Facebook friend commented on the growing state of stupidity among humans and, in today's newspaper, two national columnists write about rising levels of ignorance, apathy, and witlessness.  Consequently, I find I am worrying about the cobwebs collecting in my own cerebrum.  I fear that if an MRI were taken today, there would be a webbed fuzziness covering the screen's pictures and there would be no clarity of image. 

I am now in search of activities, food and thought-processes that will clear the cobwebs from my brain.  I cannot be a cobweb-clearer for the brains of others, I can only concentrate on myself.  This will be a challenge because shopping is not an option - I already own too much stuff and eating food is not an option - I do not need to add to my bottom line, which severely limits my choices.  There is only one solution to my dilema.......

A puppy.

Ancora imparo

My Illness

I own too much stuff.  I'll say it again:  I own too much stuff.

I think that is why I like moving.  When you move, it is a natural vehicle to be able to rid yourself of all of your unwanted stuff or junque, of which I have now accumulated plenty.  It is though it is oozing out of the pores of the condo, spilling out of the precious closet space we have, falling off shelves in the storage closet, and being crammed into one too many Rubbermaid containers.  In a word:  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.  (I realize that was three words.)

As I began on the much-procrastinated project of changing out my wardrobe from spring/summer to fall/winter, I kept noticing other accumulations that somehow just got out of hand.  Over-accumulation can happen quickly and without fanfare.  It is as if I can move through months, even a year or two, in closet-storage complacency and suddenly my eyes are open to the fact that stuff has become excessive and out of control.  I own enough clothes, in a wide-variety of sizes, that I could open up my own re-sale shop.  I own more flute, band, and choir music than a Big-Ten university and I own so many musical instruments that I could start my own band.  All I need is a tuba.  Wait.....what am I saying!

I'd like to have a garage sale but that time of year has probably passed and, besides, I do not own enough mass of stuff to facilitate my own sale.  Consequently, I'll load up boxes, bags, and sacks and tote them off to Goodwill or the Salvation Army, where I know the merchandise will be sold to benefit others. 

The urge to purge is strong right now so I need to capitalize on the instinct but it is still fascinating to me, that even as I have been eye-balling every item I've come into contact with today, I can still think of something new that would look good here, there and everywhere.  Just what illness is this?  I am not a shopaholic, rather I think I am an 'add-a-holic'.  Add a little here and add a little there and after a while, even I can do the math.

I either own too much stuff or........I need a bigger abode.  Hmmm.

Please don't tell my SO I said that. 

Ancora imparo

'Note'-Worthy

To see his hands, you would not think of a piano/rock super-star.  They are chubby and rather stubby, but boy, can they tickle the ivories!  Sir Elton John performed, live, on television this morning, on stage in New York City.  Those individuals lucky enough to have tickets for Good Morning America's Fall Concert Series were subjected to fine, fine, super-fine live music from John and Leon Russell, who sat at head-to-head, Yamaha (presumably) concert grand pianos.  The duo was showcasing some music from a collaborative album, recently released, entitled "Union".  Sir Elton also performed  his "Tiny Dancer" as a closer.

It was fascinating to watch the audience as the cameras panned those faces in attendance.  It was a mixed-age group, with few, if any, able to stay still, whether seated or standing.  I am a big Elton John fan so it was easy for me to be thrilled with what I was hearing and seeing, but when John, while talking to co-host Robin Roberts, said this was an acoustic collection of musicians and instruments, my vested interest and admiration for him shot even higher.  As John said, so many performances today are electronically either enhanced or produced.  He and Russell were joined by live singers, brass players, and percussion instruments.  The resulting sound was stellar.  It was obvious that the collaborative musicians were top-notch and the end-result did not disappoint.

There, on stage, were two older-yet-active performers who today's rock-star, wanna-bees should take notes and lessons from.  Live music, well-performed is just that - good music is good music. Distractions such as pelvic gyrations, crotch grabbing, cleavage displays, ultra-short skirts, or herky-jerky dancing cannot mask the fact that the featured singer or singers cannot sing.  Some of today's so-called rock stars have voices that should be able to remove plaque from teeth and whose concept of pitch or musicality could be bested by the figures in Madame Tussauds' Wax Museum.  

Today's performance on GMA was a lesson in true talent.  There is no substitute for it.

Ancora imparo

Predictable Reaction

The moving van went by about sixty minutes ago and parked just a few units down from our condo.  From the moment I noticed the van, my adrenalin began pumping.  Since the van arrived, multiple cars have parked on the street, possibly here to help with the move-in and a furniture-store truck just unloaded furniture, presumably carried into the condo unit that the moving van is associated with.

How I envy the people moving in!  Call me strange (and many people have and still do), but I love moving.  I liken moving to an erasable whiteboard in a classroom, where you can write whatever you need to, then take either the eraser or the spray-cleaner, along with some paper towels, and - voila! - you have a clean slate on which to write yet more fun and exciting letters, words, or symbols.

This is exactly what occurs when I move.  Every step of moving - from the selection of a neighborhood, to choosing the type of home you want to inhabit, to changing interior paint, floor-coverings and window treatments, to arranging existing furniture in new and creative ways - or purchasing new furniture to complement a different floor plan, to ridding your present belongings of those outdated, faded, ratty, unnecessary, or downright ugly items - shouts change/variety/transformation/transition.

Now, being a creature of habit, I have always found my fascination with moving a bit inconsistent, but even we creatures of habit can become bored and listless with the way we have always performed tasks and the scenery that we view on a daily basis.  Just like I am learning to cook with more herbs and spices, I enjoy the challenge of organizing my same junque in new nooks and crannies.  Plus, moving allows me the luxury of not having to paint the old walls or mess around with moving heavy furniture in order to have the carpets cleaned.  Likewise, as life is not static, neither are my needs, interests, and abilities. 

John Denver said it in his song, Leaving On A Jet Plane, "All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go....."  I don't need a jet plane, just a moving van.  There is a house nearby that has been calling to me since it was built two years ago.....Now if the market would just cooperate!

Ancora imparo

Chicken Emergency

Today I write about the healing properties of humble, fowl meat.  Please note that I typed 'fowl' and not 'foul'.  A friend of mine sent through a forward email yesterday that was entitled "Very Punny", or something like that. I could add one to it that says the person who eats chicken soup has fowl breath.  But I digress.

A couple of weeks ago, while my SO was away, allergies got the best of my nose, forcing me to make a huge pot of chicken-vegetable-barley soup and eat it for seventeen meals straight.  I have no idea if the healing properties of chicken soup really helped my allergy symptoms but, in my head, it seemed to mitigate the symptoms.  Last night the allergy-gypsies visited me once again, this time with more warriors and even more evil weapons so I am fighting back with all of the tricks my momma taught me.  My thoughtful SO visited the grocery store for me this morning, bringing back potatoes, onions, chicken breast, a large can of tomatoes, frozen green beans and, the piece de resistance, oyster crackers.  As soon as the grocery bags hit the counter, I was chopping away with ferocity, getting the vegetables cut up and into the crock pot as quickly as humanly possible.  I had previously poured in the base chicken broth and had it heated so it was ready to accept other ingredients.  I also added fresh carrots and frozen corn, thinking that I would throw as much nutritional artillery as possible at the allergy warriors.  Now to eat chicken soup for every meal until it is gone.
My only lamentation is that chocolate or cookies or ice cream or even coffee do not seem to have any medicinal lore surrounding them.  

I cry fowl!

Ancora imparo

If Not Now, Then When?

I'm trying to stay out of the political election fray.  There is too much volatility associated with political conversations.  Everyone thinks they are right and everyone else is wrong.  I seldom find individuals, when speaking about politics or religion, that are open to others disagreeing with them.  But.......(Yes, there is a 'but' here.) I heard some words come out of a well-known politician's mouth last weekend that I cannot ignore.

In the interest of maintaining civility, I will not name a name, but if anyone wants to know who said what I am about to discuss, please contact me and I'll give you a name as well as where and when the statement was made.  This was a live interview so no third party was 'interpreting' and his remarks incensed me to the point that I grabbed a piece of paper, immediately after he had uttered this statement, so I could accurately capture what was said.  To paraphrase, "Elections are not the time to educate people on the issues.  Public education should take place after the elections."  Excuse me?

JUST WHEN DO 'YOU' THINK 'I' SHOULD BE EDUCATED?  Do YOU really believe that I should be denied the facts on issues until AFTER an election?

This utterance, from a nationally known and highly ranked politician serves as proof for why I do not like, nor trust, politicians.  Transparency, truth, and facts are not the by-words of most politicians.  Rather, their mantra is: Deception, obfuscation, and prevarication.  I'll stand by my next statement:  "Most politicians care less about educating the public than they do about simply getting re-elected.  They care more about their salaries and five-star health insurance coverage than they do about the American public understanding the choices between candidates."  I do not believe either major party can be exempted from this accusation.   

I believe this political leader should be ashamed and embarrassed to have admitted this during a coast-to-coast broadcast on National Public Radio.  Face it, fellow Americans - if we want to become educated on positions, facts, issues, and agendas, the very last place we should be looking to for guidance is any politician.  We need to arm ourselves with the facts because no one else is going to.

Information is power.

Sorry.  Tomorrow I'll blog about sunshine and babies.

Ancora imparo

Xanadu

Have you ever given any thought to what your Xanadu would look like?  Where it would be?  Who would live in it? 

I know perfection in life is not possible but it is fun to think about what the perfect place would be like.  This fall weather seems perfect.....and it is - to look at - but in my Xanadu, there would be no leaf raking.  I love the green, green grass of spring.  It is lovely to look at......but there would be no lawn mowing in my Xanadu.  There would also be no weeds in my Xanadu and there would be no annoying insects, crawling or flying.  There certainly would be no bed bugs, either, in my Xanadu.  Did I mention that the outside temperature would be maintained at a sunny, dry seventy degrees?  Rain would be acceptable, but only at night, just like my lawn's automatic sprinkling system.

There would be my seven favorite people in my Xanadu, good friends, and I would have to bring back my beloved dog, Max.  I'm not sure about Frances, the Grouchy Cat.  She might have to be there simply because no other place would accept her.  Frances' grumpiness is so legendary that TLV even 'wrote' a story about Frances, the Grouch and he made a paper figure of her, complete with a smile-free face.  There would be the perfect coffee house, where friends could get a good cup-a-joe and enjoy even better conversation.  There would be two or more choirs for me to direct and, of course, there would be a band that needed a director. The world's greatest piano accompanist would live nearby, as well.  I would have the perfect place to sleep at night......no noise, no light, with just the right sleeping temperature.  There would be a daily newspaper delivery and Das Boot could be docked at my back door, ready to step aboard and be able to hear those twin diesels fire up.  In my Xanadu, I would have learned how to dock Das Boot.  I would be forty years of age, perennially,  and I would be a size six, once again.  No joints would 'speak' to me and there would be no silver streaks in my hair.  

A pipe dream, you say?  I'm certain I dreamed about my Xanadu last night.....and it felt so real.  Then I swept out the garage this afternoon and, afterward, heard all of the political ads on television.  The euphoria left in one fell swoop.  More like my reference, two days ago, to Cinderella's carriage turning back into a pumpkin and me searching for my glass slippers.

I just ordered new slippers online.  Does that count?


Ancora imparo

Ready To Go

Tomorrow my SO and I get to play Granny and Gramps for real.  We are so excited to know that we will get to give and receive hugs and kisses from the Three Musketeers, plus see and visit with their parents.  Gramps and I have both prepared for this visit.  Gramps found a book that he thought would be perfect to read to the Three Musketeers and I spent this afternoon playing Granny Crocker, baking up a storm of treats I know everyone will enjoy.  Now I have to abate my excitement enough to be able to sleep tonight, which shouldn't be too difficult because Gramps and I have been up since very early today.

The weather forecaster says that the elements should be perfect for outdoor playing, which means that we should be able to see for ourselves how TLV and TLV'sLB can climb unbelievably high. Princess Leia will enjoy herself because, well, that is just what she does.....enjoy herself!   We'll spend spend precious hours with some of our favorite people on earth, then the clocks of midnight will chime and our carriage will turn into a pumpkin that has to return home. We'll drive back with the memories fresh in our minds....memories that will have to hold us until the next time we will have the ultimate pleasure of spending time with the Three Musketeers and their parents.

I can hardly wait!

Ancora imparo

Could "Lamb Chop" Be The Answer?

I do not know if I should be flattered, dismayed, embarrassed or all three.......just because I was present at a meeting and did not talk much.  I had no idea that silence, from me, could be so out of the norm, but, apparently it was/is.  Four people have now asked me about my silence at this meeting.  I've been asked if I was not feeling well (thank you for your concern but I felt fine) or if I was angry at someone or about something (no, it was a positive meeting....there was no reason for anger from anyone) - there was just no reason for me to speak.  I was fully engaged in the topics and ensuing discussions - in fact I nodded and smiled a lot and did speak once when a date was in question - but otherwise found no reason to chime in my two-cents worth.  I didn't find my behavior as odd, but others certainly did.......which has give me much pause for consideration since receiving concerning remarks about "how the cat had my tongue". 

My SO and I just purchased an adorable hand puppet, Lamb Chop, modeled after the children's entertainer, Shari Lewis's Lamb Chop, circa 1957.  While I am the lover of all things fuzzy, it was Gramps SO who spotted the hand puppet at the local apple orchard's gift shop and could not resist purchasing it.  I love hand puppets because the 'hand' in the hand puppet can say outrageous things and no one cares.  Actually, people expect outlandish voices carrying outlandish messages when the 'hand' is speaking.  You know the 'pop culture' saying, "Talk to the hand."?  Well, I just may take my Lamb Chop hand puppet to the next meeting I attend and let 'her' do the talking for me.  If I feel there is no point in me speaking, I can let Lamb Chop vigorously nod when 'she' is in agreement with points that are being made.  If 'she' is in disagreement with opinions being voiced, 'she' can either violently shake 'her' head or speak, in that squeal-like voice 'she' had and say, "I object!" 

Perhaps hand puppets could be the solution, for any group that meets, to encourage open and honest discussions.  I can envision that the simple requirement for anyone to become a member of a group or be appointed to serve on a committee would be the acquisition of a hand puppet.  At every meeting, a sign could be displayed that states, "Only the hand speaks here".  If our hand puppets did all the talking, perhaps all of our extra, unnecessary prognostications, postulations, prattling and positioning would be a thing of the past.  

I am definitely going to 'watch' what I say from now on.  When my silence is noted then I have been guilty of too much public speaking.  'Tis better to let the cat have my tongue!

Ancora imparo

Multiple Mutations On The Horizon

My laptop is quickly becoming the next find for electronic palaeontologists.  I watch the television ads for all of the gizmos that the phone companies are promoting (hawking is more like it), coupled with Apple's promotion of iPad, iTouch, iPhone, iiiiiiiiiiiii is everywhere.  I have never seen so many lower-case i's in the media in my life. 

I am also struck my the way texting and Tweeting have overtaken the world, or so it seems.  I am a texter, but not a Tweeter.  Besides, texting is really a form of Tweeting, is it not?  The people I text with all share the commonality of a strange, abbreviated dialogue that will someday probably become a language.  Children's books will be much easier to write.  Imagine the dialogue:

hi, devon.  howr u?  urcute. ib fine. whtr u up 2?  gotta run.  by4now.

There will be no upper case lettering because hitting the shift key with a thumb is simply too time-consuming.  Shaving off letters and using single letters or numbers to represent words will take the place of formal, proper spelling.  Spelling taught in schools?  Forgeddaboudit.  Cursive writing and keyboard typing?  No one will know these skills were ever needed except in the faded, yellowed pages of antiquated textbooks.  Textbooks?  What were they?     

Imagine the human, physical transformation that will take place.  There is a song, from 1965, "Everyone's Gone To The Moon", by the Englishman Jonathan King.  He wrote the line, "Arms that can only lift a spoon".  I argue that our mutation will go far beyond that.  We will truly be a race with thumbs only.  The thumbs on future humanoids will be much smaller and thinner than present mankind's due to texting.  Our phones will have become our computers and primary, if not only, methods of communication.  The small keys necessary on these devices will necessitate physical mutations.  Ever watch teens texting?  I predict that these mutations may evolve by the end of the next generation.  The world will be a strange mix of the 'next generation' that has arms with a single, thumb-like digit and the 'lost generation'.....those emerging from caves still possessing all four fingers AND  a thumb.  

i have 2 go.  my fingers are shrinking and my thumbs r changing b4 my very is.

Ancora imparo

True Bright Spots

Amidst all of the ugliness of this world, I am seeing bright spots.  Besides my family and grandchildren, which are always bright spots......

• I saw smiles on the faces of my choir members last night and heard their laughter.  Priceless.
• My SO took us for a long ride in the country today.  The harvest colors are splendiferous.
• We visited our favorite apple orchard today and came away with fresh apples and we got to eat our allotted ONE apple-cider doughnut for the year.  There is just something magic and glorious about the combination of white flour, processed sugar and grease.
• I finally moved off square one today and tackled my to-do list that I had been avoiding for too many days.
• Lastly, I cannot close without mentioning the luminous bright spot shining over the country of Chile right now.  As moments have allowed throughout the day, I have been following the rescue of the trapped miners as they come to the surface, emerging from their virtual entombment for over two months.  Watching their faces as they step out of the capsule, watching the faces of their loved ones, people all over the world have become viral voyeurs as we observe this strange pageant play out thousands of miles away. This is a reminder that, for those who have reached the surface, there is a God - a supreme being - that has been present throughout the ordeal and the rescues that have taken place thus far.

True bright spots.

I am humbled and uplifted.

Ancora imparo 

My Talent and Proud Of It

I'm always searching for identifiable talents in others.  Genuine praise for another person is a powerful motivator, in any circumstance.  So, I guess it stands to reason, that I would be on the lookout for personal useful talents as well.  After all, who does not want to feel as if they possess a talent or two?

For a number of years, (most of my marriage to my SO) I have enjoyed a quirky talent that enables me to pick up items with the toes of my feet.  This drives my SO nuts, particularly when, in warm-weather months, we will be driving along and I will manipulate the buttons, levers and dials on the car's dashboard with the toes of my feet.  This seems natural to me, especially when I am just sitting in the car's seat, being driven down the boring interstate highway like "Miss Daisy".  Whenever possible, if a piece of paper or some other smallish item has fallen to the floor, I will retrieve it using either my toes or both of my feet.  (My theory here is whatever keeps me out of trouble with the rest of the world and doesn't hurt anyone else is just fine.)

Today I had a visit with my favorite bone-cruncher.....otherwise known as my chiropractor.  (Whatever you may think about chiropractic medicine does not bother me.  It works well for me.....that is all I know.)  This chiropractor works on my feet a lot.......more than I wish he did because the manipulations are never comfortable.  He has, however, done some amazing things for my body so I play along and try to adopt whatever suggestions he makes for me to improve my health.  Today he announced that my ligaments had improved enough to add one more exercise to my daily regimen:  Walking about, barefoot, on my tiptoes, for five minutes a day.  He has been after me, for months, to spend more barefoot time, which I have, and I can now go barefoot on hardwood floors, for more than an hour, whereas before, my feet would hurt after five minutes of bare-time.  Thusly, I do not question.....much.

I tell you this so that if you see me on my tiptoes, anywhere other than the grocery store where most things I want are out of my shortish-reach, you will understand why.

I'm working on my talent!

Ancora imparo

Mine Field?

Disclaimer:  This post is NOT related to any conversation I had with my SO but rather with recent occurrences that the media have covered.

Equality?  Sameness?

When I heard these two descriptors uttered in the same sentence, my mind immediately latched onto the social ramifications for so many diverse groups of humans.  The notions of 'equality' and 'sameness' were part of a presentation revolving around the sexes and I found my mind could not escape considering the two concepts.  At first blush, these two words would seem to represent polar opposites in thought, but my fascination narrowed in on the idea that there are those who believe that equality should equate to sameness. Can it be that if you and I are 'equal' we are the same? 

"Nay, nay!", say I.  In fact, it seems ludicrous to even consider that if I am someone's equal, we are the same.

Speaking only on behalf of myself, I can say, with absolute firmness, that while I may desire equality with someone else, I have zero desire to be the same as another person.  When considering the sexes, there is just no biological, physiological, gynecological, or even mental way that a female is the same as a male.  The world, as we know it, would come to an end if all humans were just one androgynous species.  The differences between males and females have their purpose(s) and to not recognize those differences just seems not only short-sighted with tunnel vision, but downright ignorant.  I'll step out on a precarious limb, right here, and say that when considering equality between the sexes, we, as a society, cannot nor should not ignore the differences between the sexes.  'We' can camouflage ourselves all we want, but in the end, there are just, flat-out, differences we cannot overlook, nor do I want those differences overlooked.

I am stepping off my soapbox and going to find my pink slippers, my pink housecoat, my pink hair curlers, and my pink bon bons.  I'll watch soap operas all day, then go read my Harlequin romance novels.....after which I'll welcome home my man from his hunter-gather day with his pipe and slippers.  The dog will sleep at his feet and I'll have a fire burning in the fireplace.  I'm certain he'd do the same for me......he just wouldn't look good in pink.

We'll be the "Stepford Spouses".

Ancora imparo

Lesson Re-learned

Today I had a viewpoint of mine driven home unexpectedly.  The scenario that I watched underscored and emphasized something that I already know.........what NOT to do in a group setting.

Groups are funny 'things'.  They rather have a life and a hierarchy of their own and I pity the person or persons who dare to disrupt a group's procedures.  I sat in with an established group and witnessed some discomforting realities:  Established groups do not adapt easily to new members, the leader of the group is vital to the group accepting new members and 'claimed' chairs are alive and well.  None of these descriptors bode well for groups to grow, but perhaps, that is the point.  Perhaps groups do not want to welcome new members.

What I observed transpiring is that newcomers to this group were not verbally welcomed, although a 'welcome back' was issued to an existing group member that had been absent; mention was made that "there were new team players and old team players in new seats"; and a comment/complaint from an existing group member that someone was "sitting in my chair" was allowed to remain without the group's leader responding with any welcoming remark to the newcomers.  My awareness was heightened throughout the time frame that the group met and I wondered if the newcomers would return next week.

I do not think I would return to this group.  Little effort was made to enfold the 'newbies' into the group and, frankly, some of the comments made might have encouraged me to get up and walk out, which these brave and intrepid folks did not.  They stayed, much to their credit.

It was a powerful lesson driven home.  As leaders, we have an incumbent responsibility to welcome new people to any group we are working with.  To not do this shouts weak leadership skills and sends an all-too-powerful message to newcomers:  Don't bother coming back.  We like things the way they were.  Go somewhere else.

May I long remember the lesson I re-learned today.

Ancora imparo

Under The Drill

I am facing the fact that I am a 'dental wimp'.  It is hard to believe that until I was around thirty years of age, any dental work I had done was performed without local anesthetic.  Somewhere, in my early thirties, I grew uncomfortable with oral pain and started accepting 'shots'.

Yesterday was the first of two sessions for a crown and it was my first crown experience with this particular dentist.  He was meticulous, careful (redundant, I know), and kept apologizing  for his perfectionist tendencies, to which I replied, "I like the perfectionism trait in my dentist!"  What I realized was that even after my mouth had been numbed with three shots, and I really couldn't feel him working, probing, drilling, and poking about in my mouth, I was still 'thinking' about the pain.  Although I felt no discomfort (for the first two hours, at least), I knew great pain was lurking about and I kept waiting to feel it.  Every time he'd withdraw his hand, and the wicked instrument it held, my body would instantly relax, even if only for a brief moment.  As soon as his hand reappeared in my peripheral vision field, my sub-conscious would signal potential pain, and I'd find my body involuntarily taking a deep breath and then holding my breath.  I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. I'd then give myself an internal chastisement over my fear of potential pain, only to feel the same reaction happen again - deep breath followed by the holding of my breath.  For the last half hour of my two-and-a-half hour dental visit, my tooth began to wake up and the resulting sensations were not pleasant but I did not wish to encourage my own wimpiness.

I know that perceived discomfort is just as troublesome as actual discomfort but I found that it was nigh to impossible for me to overcome the fear of possible pain.  Our psyches are such powerful forces, are they not? I am still marveling at the realization that all I had to do was 'see' the dentist's hand and I was certain that great pain was looming largely in my immediate future.  I can see why dental torture is so effective.  Ouch!

Enough already!  My new dentist is great.  Long live perfectionist dentists!

Ancora imparo

"Hip To Be Square"

"Hip to be square".

This is not a new idea.  Huey Lewis and the News gave it musical credence in a great song that came out in the mid-1980's.  In yesterday's posting, I posed the question, "When did it stop being OK to be square?"  I thought a lot about the answer to my own query and decided that, for me, I was just fine being square.

I'll segue to last night.  A friend and I traveled north to a Big-Ten college town to watch a rock/soul band perform.  The venue was a trendy lounge that still has the financial where withal to sponsor live music, to which I give the owners huge credit.  I don't 'get out' much, certainly not with anyone other than my SO, but since he was out of town, I hornswaggled a good friend into making the trip with me.  The lounge was full of mostly thirty through fifty-somethings, casually dressed for a night out, and looking for fun.  They all looked 'hip' and I shout 'square'.  I sidled up to the bar, which had a few empty chairs, took a twenty-dollar bill in my fingers - the 'hip' way I saw others holding currency - and tried to look like I did this all the time.  The 'mixologist' asked me what I would like and here is where my new-found 'hipness' vaporized.

I am not a drinker, per se, and I rarely stand at a bar, ordering drinks.  My SO always takes on this task.  Or, when in a restaurant, if I order an alcoholic beverage, it is a glass of riesling wine.  I am safe with wine.  I only like one type.  But, last night, when I inquired to my friend, "What can I get you?", she asked for vodka on the rocks and a chaser glass of water.  I was confident I could get the job done.  So I found myself, at the bar, face-to-face with this young thing waiting to take my drink order.  I told her what I wanted and she asked what kind of vodka I wanted.  Well, now, I don't drink vodka, never have.....that I know of......and, off the top of my head I could only think of one brand of vodka...."Blue Goose", I said.  (Little did I realize my mistake.) She was very polite, gave me a funny look and said, "Would you like to see the list of vodkas we have available?"  By now I knew that "Blue Goose" was probably not the name of a vodka brand and I saw my hipness fading quickly into the sunset.  I looked at the list and instantly knew my mistake.  "Grey Goose", I said. "Two shots".  I thought I would get a glass with two shots of vodka in it and a glass of water, as well, in addition to my wine.  What she brought me was two glasses, two shots each, of Grey Goose, along with the water and wine.  I paid (a lot) and took the beverages back to our table, which was full of thirty-somethings.  My astonished friend looked at the glasses and I told her the story.  We laughed so hard our Depends got a good workout.  She tasted the vodka and confirmed that each glass had two shots worth in them and declared I'd have to carry her out on a stretcher.  It was then that I realized that being 'hip' was not in the cards for moi. 

As I drove home, I had time to reflect that one truly cannot turn a square peg into a hip-looking round peg.  As Popeye would say, "I yam what I yam".  Just don't send me up to the bar.

By the way, the Grey Goose bottle has blue on it.  I knew I'd seen blue somewhere.

Ancora imparo

When Did It Stop?

When did it stop being OK to be square?  When did being an independent thinker become passe'?  Furthermore, just what is 'square'?  Just because I do not agree with another's views does not make me 'square', nor conservative, nor uninformed, nor disinterested, nor apathetic, nor WRONG, it just means that I have a different viewpoint from YOU. 

I was part of a lively discourse this past summer (how sad to have to say 'past') that circled around, and wove through, politics and political viewpoints.  Part of the discussion revolved around whether one could have liberal political views and be a social conservative OR have conservative political views and be a social liberal.  I enjoyed the conversation because everyone kept it civil, even humorous at times, and no one made another feel foolish or WRONG due to his or her opinion.  However, I came away from the confab puzzled that the over-arching thought was that people must automatically fit into one position or another.  To be sure, those assembled heartily agreed that a person could also be liberal/liberal or conservative/conservative, but no one expressed the viewpoint that a person could move between 'camps', depending on the issue at hand.

This puzzles me.  Why can't a person have multiple positions, moving between conservative and liberal?  Just because a person does not subscribe to a single set of views and mores does not make her or him a waffler, or weak, or timid, or cowardly or WRONG.  It just means that, depending on the 'issue', I have a differing opinion from YOU. 

It is said that the subject of politics does not make good dinner conversation.  I'd like to add ethics and morals to that list.  There are just too many items on the menu of life to choose from when discussing politics, ethics, and morals.  'Polite' conversation should stay with 'safe' topics like PC v.s Mac, Bears v.s. Packers, sailing v.s. powerboating, cats v.s.dogs, dark chocolate v.s. milk chocolate, crunchy cookies v.s. soft cookies, white popcorn v.s. yellow popcorn, full-day kindergarten v.s. half-day kindergarten, the Glass Ceiling, Margaritas with or without salt on the rim.  You know, really important 'stuff'. 

Agreeing to disagree is more fun, don't you think?  We might even be able to talk about yellow mustard v.s. Grey Poupon!

Ancora imparo

The Best Tools

The internet, and, Facebook in particular, abounds with personality/leadership tests you can take to determine if you are like a certain breed of dog, a famous person, a fruit or some other kind of food.  I have not seen a test that likens people to brands of cars but there probably is one such assessment out there somewhere.  My personal favorite would be to compare people to egg-preparation types, which I did in a spring posting, but that idea has not yet caught on.  I guess no one wants to be thought of as 'cracked', 'poached', or 'easy-over'. 

To where I'm going......There are those humans who are natural 'fixers', people who either have learned or have an innate sense that a situation or person needs 'fixing'.  'Fixers' frequently get themselves into boxes with no way out if the person does not wish to be 'fixed'.  Situational 'fixers' may be akin to, if not outright, leaders. Some situations can be 'fixed', others are hopeless or unworthy of the time and energy needed to 'fix' or 'meddle'.  'Fixing' and 'meddling' are first cousins, are they not?

Regarding human 'fixing'.....I know several people, very well, who are natural 'fixers'.  They seem drawn to the personality-type that wears a sign that says, "I need fixing."  I have observed some success between the 'fixer' and the 'fixee' but, more often than not, the 'fixer' becomes disillusioned, discouraged, and even deceived.

So what is the solution to wanting to alleviate someone else's pain, hurt, or sorrow?  Well, prayer, for one.  Praying for another is, perhaps, the most powerful antibiotic or pharmaceutical on the planet.  Prayer is free and can be done anonymously.   Prayer is calming to the person doing the praying and can be soothing and comforting to the one being prayed 'for'.  Praying for another is not 'fixing', but rather asking for intercedence from God on behalf of someone else. 

God gave us two of the best tools on earth for 'fixing':  Our ears and our arms.  Our ears are the perfect vehicle for listening, simply listening.  By listening to other people, we allow them to hear their own thoughts and give them the knowledge that someone else cares.  Our arms are the perfect vehicle for human touch.  With our hands, we can convey a gentle 'touch' on the arm or shoulder that says, "I am with you." or, if the person is open to hugging, our arms can wrap around another and send an unspoken message of "I am here." 

God sends the message of "I am here." every day.  There are days when I can feel Him wrap his mighty arms around me and lift me over whatever morass that I am confronting.  Let's give the gift of 'tools' to each other:  Our hands, arms, and prayer.

Ancora imparo 

Baffled and Befuddled

I love etymology, which is "the history of a linguistic form of a word shown by tracing its development  since its earliest recorded occurrence in the language where it is found, by tracing its transmission from one language to another, by analyzing it into its component parts, by identifying its cognates in other languages, or by tracing it and its cognates to a common ancestral form in an ancestral language".  (Whew!)  Merriam-Webster's CollegiateDictionary, Eleventh Edition

I'm certain anyone who reads this posting will think, to themselves, "Here she goes again.", and will have to stifle yet another yawn.  However, this is the path my brain took today when I was musing about a number of life-vignettes that are currently playing in the theatre of my mind.  I find it fascinating how one incident can lead to a thought-path that would have never occurred to me even moments before.

The 'Bic-lighter' of my thoughts, today, was a phone call, to me, from the corporate headquarters of the company who makes the car we drive.  I had sent an email, rife with frustration, about the closing of my car-maker's local dealership.  To the credit of 'corporate', the response was quick.....less than  twenty-four hours from the time I pushed 'send'.  The gist of the response was less than satisfying.  Basically, I was told that any closing of a dealership, selling my make of car, is totally the decision of the franchisee, and out of the hands of corporate headquarters.  My personal take on this is either that I was flat-out lied to or that it is the worst business model ever constructed.  It is no wonder that the maker of my car is struggling in the global economy. 

This, coupled with a perfect storm of a bevy of other minor frustrations, led me to think about self-incarceration in my office, just for the day.  Of course, I immediately realized the common understanding of the word incarcerate and thought, perhaps, I should look up the origin of the word before writing about my own incarceration.  What I discovered, led me to a state of confusion regarding incarcerate.  The root of the word comes from the Latin word carcer, which means prison.  OK, I'm onboard with that.  But, were we not taught, ad nauseum in school, that the prefix in means not?  I need someone to explain to me why the word incarcerate does not mean 'not in prison' and, if you are in prison, why are you not 'carcerated'? 

For the time being, I will be in self-imposed 'Ostrich-mode' in my office, maintaining my state of befuddlement and bafflement.  Care to join me?

Ancora imparo

Forced Flexibility

Forced flexibility.  It can have two meanings, at least in my world and this morning is a good example of both.  One scenario I am good at, or try to be - physical exercise that involves flexibility exercises. If I do not maintain a regular regimen of my self-prescribed combination of Pilates, yoga, and free weights, my body complains loudly.......more loudly than when it complains during exercise. I am finding that my muscles, ligaments and tendons are like pieces of leather that got wet and were then set out in the hot sun.  Each time I exercise, it is akin to re-wetting the leather and stretching it back out to its original form.  (I was going to use the word 'shape' but my original 'shape' is long gone.  I'll just settle for maintaining some semblance of a human form!)  I find it fascinating that my body's natural inclination, at this stage of life, is to shrink and shrivel, but not in important, outward ways.  Keeping flexibility is a constant battle, one which I'm not sure I'm winning or can even claim to have achieved a stalemate.

The other form of 'forced flexibility', one that I struggle with daily, is dealing with the natural changes that can occur in one's schedule due to life, the world, commitments, health issues, over-sleeping, work......any number of occurances that are outside of our control.  A good friend of mine regularly suggests that only control 'freaks' cannot 'go with the flow' and that if all of the world's control freaks would simply 'let go', the world would be a calmer place.  I cannot ascribe to that philosophy simply because 'one size does not fit all'.  Some days, life throws fastballs at us and we have a good, hardwood baseball bat at hand but, on other days, the bat is nowhere to be found and the fastballs strike from every angle.  I, like millions of other humans, am a creature of planning, habit, and purposeful execution. 

Can I 'roll with the punches'?  Absolutely.  Educating children teaches you that almost instantly.  However, my preference is to move through the day in an orderly and organized manner.  This day did not begin that way and my method of coping?  Coffee, the newspaper and a piece of chocolate. 

Bring on those fastballs.  I've found my bat now I hope you have yours.

Ancora imparo

As Evidenced By.......

In a recent post of Ancora imparo, I wrote about the beautiful countryside I rode past on my way to the central part of the state.  During that trip, signs of autumn were everywhere.  Now that I am back home for the winter months, I am attuned to the hints of change here, as well.

• The geese are in constant, pre-flight formation practice.  Small groups form continually and seem to take short trips, only to land, lay about for a bit, then take off again, squawking noisily as if to alert any other sky-bound creature that they - the great Canadian Geese - are commanding the skies. 
• My pallet is demanding.....well, maybe craving.....soups of all kinds.  Two days ago I made a large, crockpot full of chili.  Much of it has now been consumed but three meals worth have been frozen, waiting their turn to become a choir-night quick meal.  Just like "Jiffy Lube", these meals serve a great purpose - quick in to the microwave and quick out to a waiting bowl for an even faster consumption.  Today I felt like chicken/vegetable/barley soup and that is what is steaming away in the crockpot.  
• My morning walks now require ear-muffs, long pants, and a heavier coat.
• Our tile floors are cold to the feet and now invite the wearing of slippers.
• Candy, left in the car, doesn't melt.
• There is one extra blanket on my bed.
• Brainless, fall television series have begun.
• The evening darkness comes waaaay too soon.
• Likewise, daylight takes its sweet time in arrival.
• It is hard to come out from under the covers in the morning.
• Our local newspaper has begun a "countdown to Halloween".
• Our church is in the midst of its stewardship campaign. 
• Politicians are out in full force before the mid-term elections.
• The box elder bugs are everywhere.
• Fall road construction is in high gear, only to remain unfinished until next summer. 
• The annual 'collision' of baseball and football season is upon us.
• Ice water is being replaced with hot tea.

Let's enjoy this God-given season.  It is a welcome respite from the summer's heat and humidity!

Ancora imparo

New Set Of Procedures

I was gone for a couple of days this week, and, the following morning after I returned, I wandered into my office to turn on my laptop and saw I strange light, glowing from a spot that, heretofore,  (I love the word heretofore  but I cannot use it very often!) never had anything glowing on top of it.  After turning on the overhead light, I discovered that the source of the glowing light was something quite exciting.  The table next to my desk that had been previously empty, now had a television setting atop of a big, black box.

Allow me to digress for a moment.

The latest and greatest gizmos and gadgets in the electronic world will never darken a room in our home.  We are always about twenty-to-thirty electronic generations behind whatever Silicon Valley is promoting.  Our 'main' television has a digital converter box attached to it so it can receive a signal from our cable company.  The VCR just got disconnected last week and, thusly, my over-used, blank video cassette tapes will be retired as well.  I have been methodically video taping missed television shows for years now and have been comfortable with the procedure necessary to program the VCR.  "Quoth the Raven, 'Never more'".

Before I continue, keep in mind that our household will NEVER hold the latest and greatest,  but, with my new 'glowing light', I have come from the Stone Age to the Industrial Age.  The glowing light belongs to my early birthday present, a DVD recorder and re-writable disks.  Plus, the television from the kitchen has been sent to my office to replace the Stone-Aged model that died in the spring and the kitchen counter now sports a new eighteen-inch television.  While I was away, my SO was busy!

Yesterday I received a tutorial on the operation of the DVD recorder and I think I am ready for my newest electronic stage of life.  Yes, I have a fresh set of procedures to follow but I am full of confidence and excitement.  Industrial Age, here I come!

What can be next?  In ten years I'm certain I'll have a subscription to TiVo!

Ancora imparo

Fall......ing

Fall has arrived and, as if we needed any further reminder than the calendar, Mother Nature is doing her best to alert our eyes, ears, and nostrils to the fact that autumn is really here. 

While I had the recent pleasure of traveling three hours south in the state, evidence of the changing seasons was everywhere.  The fall crop fields were stunningly beautiful while flaunting varying shades of yellow, gold, and brown along with an occasional green-ribbon thread added in for visual effect.  Half-harvested fields of corn exhibited their beauty in the contrast of corn stalks waiting to be cut next to the foot-or-so stubble remaining.  Likewise, the wheat fields gently blew in the wind, patiently waiting their turn to be harvested.  The beauty of the agricultural landscape was interspersed with farm equipment, either moving in the fields amidst dust clouds or lumbering down the two-lane highway, chugging along with dogged determination to the next crop.  Somewhere in this agrarian portrait, a large wind farm added a silent, silver elegance to the picturesque acres that we passed by with their mechanical arms methodically moving as if in a mute, synchronized ballet.  Pumpkin stands were bursting at the seams with future jack-o-lanterns in all shapes and sizes, bales of hay and straw begged for purchase and sunflower stalks were banded together for October displays.  As if additional cues were needed, the requisite apple cider and its tasty cousin, the apple-cider doughnut were in full supply with no shortage of buyers!  Football schedules can be seen posted on bulletin boards in every small-town business and football teams can be seen and heard practicing through their plays with crunching and constant collisions.  Summer shorts and halter tops are being traded for denim and hoodies and storefronts remind us that Halloween is not far away. The nights are cool and the days have moderate temperatures, often accompanied by diurnal sunshine and the Harvest Moon at night. 

Does it get any better than this?

I think not!

Ancora imparo