Avians. Alfred Hitchcock made his famous movie, The Birds, back in 1963. I saw the movie and have been alert to an avian presence ever since. Alfred would, indeed, find my present circumstances amusing. Not me.
Birds are driving me nuts. The geese - not a problem here last season - are now encroaching on frequently strolled areas and , let me tell you, goose poo, dung, scat....whatever you want to call it......is a nasty substance. Geese are prolific "pooers". Canada Geese don't look that big from a distance, but when you get up close enough to them to hear them hiss at you, they really are big birds. I don't know what their main source of food is but, whatever it is, it produces a product that should really be powering big power plants - somewhere. Geese really are foul fowl.
Then there are the ducks. Mallards. Cute creatures that mostly stick to their watery environs and don't spend much time on docks or walkways. These birds are much more polite "pooers" than the Canada Geese. The problem with the Mallards is that their eggs have hatched and these cute, fuzzy little hatchlings are everywhere, along with their highly protective mamas. This is not normally an issue. It has been my observation that Mama Mallards are good mothers - alert, watchful, and vigilant - always mindful of their broods, how many and where they are. Communication between ducklings and mamas is this curious mix of demure clicks, high-pitched squeaks and loud quacks that command the immediate presence of each and every offspring. Ever see a flock of scared ducklings in the water? They become like harrier craft, little webbed feet almost lifting them off the surface of the water as they scurry back to their mama. The dilema arises when one duckling gets separated from his or her brood and mama. The poor little creature will emit an almost constant squeak, the frequency of which increases exponentially as minutes pass between separation and reunion. Quite pathetic, really, but there is nothing a human can do until the mama is able to maneuver herself and the rest of the brood back to the lone straggler.
Lastly there are the blackbirds - at least I think they are blackbirds. Could be starlings - I cannot tell the difference. After six seasons aboard this Aqua RV, I have never encountered birds that would peck at the boat......until this year. We are now in what the locals refer to as "May-fly season", where - almost daily - these pesky,tiny winged creatures hatch in the thousands, overnight, only to die and plaster their dead bodies all over everything. They are nuisance creatures before they die, too, flying about in thick swarms that serve to choke up every airway that a human possesses. You'd best not open your mouth or take a deep nasal breath when walking through a patch of May flies, or you will find yourself choking on protein you did not count on ingesting. The blackbirds, being smart and crafty, understand that the dead May Flies are a ready-made feast and, thusly, they peck furiously at the boat, in an attempt to eat as many of the thousands of dead flies as possible. This feeding frenzy begins shortly after the dawn begins to break. The only bright outcome in all of this pesky pecking is that occasionally the blackbirds will feast on spiders, as well as dead May Flies.
Alfred, I'd love to see what your screen play would be like, including Goose poo, lone ducklings, and uber-pecking blackbirds.
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 30, 2011
Annoyed And Beyond
Just when I thought I was practicing safe internet routines, I fell into a trap this morning and ended up "sending" a notice about a Facebook dislike button to all of my fb friends. Fortunately, Facebook caught my dalliance with disaster and sent me a message saying they (Facebook) had blocked the spamming - just not in enough time to prevent the "cloud" from broadcasting it to every friend.
Spammers and hackers would seem to have way too much time on their hands. If only they could apply their skills to more positive endeavors, instead of thinking of ways to annoy other people. I am savvy enough to avoid (cross my fingers) malicious internet bugs but this Facebook trap that I inadvertently got my self into seemed so innocuous and innocent - especially since it came from a trusted and good friend.
Live and learn. Like so many other tough lessons in life, I simply had it driven home to me, today, that cynicism, skepticism and fatalism are born out of real-life experiences. Think I am overstating this? I think not. Even in the realm of social networking, where maliciousness has no place, there are those who would seek to disrupt an otherwise uneventful and innocent action......checking one's Facebook page.
Let me leave you with my "take-a-way" from being scammed this morning: Many synonyms for annoyed. Perhaps some of these will be useful to you today or in the future. Just remember to not explore the "dislike" button for Facebook.
Irritated
Exasperated
Aggravated
Bothered
Vexed
Peeved
Miffed
Steamed
My personal favorite: Pi#%ed
Ancora imparo
Spammers and hackers would seem to have way too much time on their hands. If only they could apply their skills to more positive endeavors, instead of thinking of ways to annoy other people. I am savvy enough to avoid (cross my fingers) malicious internet bugs but this Facebook trap that I inadvertently got my self into seemed so innocuous and innocent - especially since it came from a trusted and good friend.
Live and learn. Like so many other tough lessons in life, I simply had it driven home to me, today, that cynicism, skepticism and fatalism are born out of real-life experiences. Think I am overstating this? I think not. Even in the realm of social networking, where maliciousness has no place, there are those who would seek to disrupt an otherwise uneventful and innocent action......checking one's Facebook page.
Let me leave you with my "take-a-way" from being scammed this morning: Many synonyms for annoyed. Perhaps some of these will be useful to you today or in the future. Just remember to not explore the "dislike" button for Facebook.
Irritated
Exasperated
Aggravated
Bothered
Vexed
Peeved
Miffed
Steamed
My personal favorite: Pi#%ed
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Forming Groups
Forming a group is a difficult task, at least for some people. I've had experience "putting" groups together so I know the challenge. It can be done but it does require some forethought, planning, and strategy. This is not to say that I am a master group-creator. I have been successful in the past and I have also led some less-than-functional groups and I remember how each committee was created.
Creating committees is almost always a risky undertaking. No matter how hard a leader tries, someone, somewhere will feel slighted, ignored, or insulted if not asked to be a part of the group. Even if the group is charged with a difficult or unpleasant charter, just the act of being "invited" or "not invited" is central to some people's needs to have their egos stroked. There are those who would never want to serve on certain committees but to not be given the option of refusal is tantamount to the greatest social slight in the world.
My least successful committees came from the "clipboard" or "sign-up-sheet" approach. This method involves opening up the membership of the committee to anyone who can use a pen or pencil to write out a name. This "shotgun" approach shoots out a volley and whoever gets hit by buckshot is deemed automatically well-suited to serve, regardless of interest, skill, or qualifications. Well-meaning people, who think it sounds like fun, may not make up the best cadre of members. Just because I like to look at myself in mirrors does not mean that I have a single shred of knowledge on how to make reflective glass, frame it or hang it. Committee efficacy also depends on forming a group with people who will all work for a common cause, with work being the operative word. Successful committees are staffed with people who will roll up their shirtsleeves and get down and dirty.....not just people who sit around and think about how others can work.
The groups who function the most efficiently and cohesively seem to be formed by invitation. Not invitations based on who is fun, good-looking, wealthy, influential, has the best "connections",or cooks the best but, rather, invitations by design. As I stated in an earlier paragraph, the thought needs to be, "Who are those individuals who can bring to the table the highest degree of skill and qualifications directly related to the task the committee has been charged with?" The effective leader knows how to seek out who would help achieve the best result and then goes about recruiting those who could bring productive and operational structure and culmination to a project.
I'm all for committees - anywhere and any time - but please, let thought always be given as to how they are created and who serves on them.
Ancora imparo
Creating committees is almost always a risky undertaking. No matter how hard a leader tries, someone, somewhere will feel slighted, ignored, or insulted if not asked to be a part of the group. Even if the group is charged with a difficult or unpleasant charter, just the act of being "invited" or "not invited" is central to some people's needs to have their egos stroked. There are those who would never want to serve on certain committees but to not be given the option of refusal is tantamount to the greatest social slight in the world.
My least successful committees came from the "clipboard" or "sign-up-sheet" approach. This method involves opening up the membership of the committee to anyone who can use a pen or pencil to write out a name. This "shotgun" approach shoots out a volley and whoever gets hit by buckshot is deemed automatically well-suited to serve, regardless of interest, skill, or qualifications. Well-meaning people, who think it sounds like fun, may not make up the best cadre of members. Just because I like to look at myself in mirrors does not mean that I have a single shred of knowledge on how to make reflective glass, frame it or hang it. Committee efficacy also depends on forming a group with people who will all work for a common cause, with work being the operative word. Successful committees are staffed with people who will roll up their shirtsleeves and get down and dirty.....not just people who sit around and think about how others can work.
The groups who function the most efficiently and cohesively seem to be formed by invitation. Not invitations based on who is fun, good-looking, wealthy, influential, has the best "connections",or cooks the best but, rather, invitations by design. As I stated in an earlier paragraph, the thought needs to be, "Who are those individuals who can bring to the table the highest degree of skill and qualifications directly related to the task the committee has been charged with?" The effective leader knows how to seek out who would help achieve the best result and then goes about recruiting those who could bring productive and operational structure and culmination to a project.
I'm all for committees - anywhere and any time - but please, let thought always be given as to how they are created and who serves on them.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Curious Day
The planets must be misaligned, the earth's magnetic field might be disrupted, or, simply put, it could just be one of those days.
Everything seems off-kilter. The internet connection here is, at times, either non-existent or slower than the proverbial January molasses. That was the first indication that this day wasn't going to quite be as usual. Of course, being a creature of habit, that made me cranky right off the bat. Even when I came up to the lounge, where I am now typing, the internet was still slow, although able to be accessed. My crankiness came down one notch. Not much, mind you, just one notch.
Then there are all of the unsupervised children running around here, quite literally creating havoc. I'm certain that their parents are holed up in boats somewhere, thankful that they could send their children out into the less-than-favorable elements today. "Go get some air!", was probably the order issued. "Be anywhere but here!" and they sent the children packing. The problem with this philosophy is that bored, unsupervised children, ages probably six to twelve, are completely and naturally prone toward mischief and mayhem. Take for instance this morning, when the doughnuts, juice and coffee came out. I wasn't planning on eating any doughnuts and it was a good thing, because the gaggle of children running amuck confiscated the doughnuts by the fistfuls - literally.
Because the weather is tending toward mercurial and gloomy, there are many adults wandering aimlessly, as well, obviously not certain about what they should do with themselves. It is too cold for the Bloody-Mary cliques to form on the docks. It is too windy to take boats out, and the rain is too threatening to lend itself towards any activity other than hunkering down inside the boats. This is a very bad combination and a recipe for disaster - cantankerous adults and flocks of bored children.
As for moi, I am much happier since I could find the internet - even if for a brief time. I have satisfied my addiction and might even be OK until tomorrow. More than likely, the painfully slow internet service is due to legions of other addictive adults and kids all trying to watch movies, play games, or simply surf the net today. With this weather, I'd say we all need about a 10-G network and even then that might not be enough!
Trying to pass the time.....
Ancora imparo
Everything seems off-kilter. The internet connection here is, at times, either non-existent or slower than the proverbial January molasses. That was the first indication that this day wasn't going to quite be as usual. Of course, being a creature of habit, that made me cranky right off the bat. Even when I came up to the lounge, where I am now typing, the internet was still slow, although able to be accessed. My crankiness came down one notch. Not much, mind you, just one notch.
Then there are all of the unsupervised children running around here, quite literally creating havoc. I'm certain that their parents are holed up in boats somewhere, thankful that they could send their children out into the less-than-favorable elements today. "Go get some air!", was probably the order issued. "Be anywhere but here!" and they sent the children packing. The problem with this philosophy is that bored, unsupervised children, ages probably six to twelve, are completely and naturally prone toward mischief and mayhem. Take for instance this morning, when the doughnuts, juice and coffee came out. I wasn't planning on eating any doughnuts and it was a good thing, because the gaggle of children running amuck confiscated the doughnuts by the fistfuls - literally.
Because the weather is tending toward mercurial and gloomy, there are many adults wandering aimlessly, as well, obviously not certain about what they should do with themselves. It is too cold for the Bloody-Mary cliques to form on the docks. It is too windy to take boats out, and the rain is too threatening to lend itself towards any activity other than hunkering down inside the boats. This is a very bad combination and a recipe for disaster - cantankerous adults and flocks of bored children.
As for moi, I am much happier since I could find the internet - even if for a brief time. I have satisfied my addiction and might even be OK until tomorrow. More than likely, the painfully slow internet service is due to legions of other addictive adults and kids all trying to watch movies, play games, or simply surf the net today. With this weather, I'd say we all need about a 10-G network and even then that might not be enough!
Trying to pass the time.....
Ancora imparo
Friday, May 27, 2011
I Need Some Crunch
I've been trying to change up my breakfast routine. This probably doesn't sound like a very challenging task but I do find that it is hard to break a food rut. Of course, eating scrambled egg whites doesn't sound very glamorous but they are quite tasty - especially when dotted with a bit of catsup. Scrambled egg whites probably make up sixty percent of my breakfast menus. Other variations on the theme of egg whites are egg-white omelets with spinach, fresh tomatoes, mushrooms, feta cheese or lite shredded cheddar. While I do miss egg yolks, they are just one of the many dietary choices I should not choose.
However, I digress. Back to the crunch concept.
In changing my breakfast pattern, for the past ten days or so, I've been enjoying fresh-fruit and fat-free-plain yogurt smoothies, with a little old-fashioned oatmeal and some rice milk thrown in. The flavor is splendid. My favorite fresh fruits to add are either bananas, pineapple, or strawberries. Add a little crushed ice, blend, and voila! Tasty! I realize this is a psychological issue and not one of nutrition, never-the-less, it is still hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea that I've eaten if I've not "eaten". Swallowing liquids and chewing a substance - then swallowing - are two different things. It is no wonder that I could never get into the Slim-fast craze when, just before every swimsuit season, it would sweep through my work place.
Obviously, I could have many greater issues than the current consternation about chewing versus swallowing. Perhaps I could still prepare my breakfast smoothies but float nuts, chocolate chips, cookie-bits, chunks of chocolate, or entire cookies on top of the liquid. This would provide the nutrition of the fruit smoothie as well as the excitement and texture of foods on which I could crunch.
Ooh - Twixt bars, KitKat bars, Butterfingers, O Henries, Pay Days, Nestle Crunches....the possibilities of crunch are endless!
Maybe I'd better return to scrambled egg whites?
Ancora imparo
However, I digress. Back to the crunch concept.
In changing my breakfast pattern, for the past ten days or so, I've been enjoying fresh-fruit and fat-free-plain yogurt smoothies, with a little old-fashioned oatmeal and some rice milk thrown in. The flavor is splendid. My favorite fresh fruits to add are either bananas, pineapple, or strawberries. Add a little crushed ice, blend, and voila! Tasty! I realize this is a psychological issue and not one of nutrition, never-the-less, it is still hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea that I've eaten if I've not "eaten". Swallowing liquids and chewing a substance - then swallowing - are two different things. It is no wonder that I could never get into the Slim-fast craze when, just before every swimsuit season, it would sweep through my work place.
Obviously, I could have many greater issues than the current consternation about chewing versus swallowing. Perhaps I could still prepare my breakfast smoothies but float nuts, chocolate chips, cookie-bits, chunks of chocolate, or entire cookies on top of the liquid. This would provide the nutrition of the fruit smoothie as well as the excitement and texture of foods on which I could crunch.
Ooh - Twixt bars, KitKat bars, Butterfingers, O Henries, Pay Days, Nestle Crunches....the possibilities of crunch are endless!
Maybe I'd better return to scrambled egg whites?
Ancora imparo
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thinking Of You, Nana and Mom
Flashbacks come at the oddest of times, triggered by the smallest of details.
I was at the sink of the Aqua RV, where I keep a small, white, maybe fifteen-inch-in-diameter round, plastic-type dish pan. If I recall correctly, I think it was initially designed to be a food container with a snap-over lid but we bought it to use as a dish pan and discarded the lid long ago. I have used this pan for a multitude of purposes, hundreds of times over the past five-plus years and never had a flashback to my maternal grandmother, "Nana", as I called her - or my mom, but today was different.
Preparing potatoes to use in potato salad, I took the pan from the sink and moved it to a nearby table that was a bit lower and easier for this short person to peel "taters" over. Just that action and the subsequent motions of peeling spuds took me back to a time long ago, somewhere in my sub-conscious. Suddenly I was transported to my childhood, into a 1950's kitchen, where there was no running water and most certainly no garbage disposal. The kind of kitchen where all of the garbage was collected in white, probably porcelain pans, later to be tossed out over a garden, into a pig pen, or onto rich, black farmland soil. This task would take place on multiple occasions during the course of a day as Nana and my mother cooked for my dad, myself, and the other farm laborers who would be fed a large, mid-day meal.
How many times this scenario played out during my younger years I cannot accurately state, but I do remember being the little "gopher" whose job it was to carry out the garbage and toss it wherever I was instructed, as far as my little arms could throw the white pan's contents. I always felt important being the "garbage heaver" because after I'd accomplished my task, I would frolic a bit with the kittens, rub the noses of the calves, sneak a fistful of raspberries, or chase a butterfly or two.
Those were good days. I still had two of my umbilical chords......Nana and my mother. Today my connection with them was re-established, even if just briefly, by a fifteen-inch plastic pan used to collect potato peelings. How strangely wonderful.
Thank you, God.
Ancora imparo
I was at the sink of the Aqua RV, where I keep a small, white, maybe fifteen-inch-in-diameter round, plastic-type dish pan. If I recall correctly, I think it was initially designed to be a food container with a snap-over lid but we bought it to use as a dish pan and discarded the lid long ago. I have used this pan for a multitude of purposes, hundreds of times over the past five-plus years and never had a flashback to my maternal grandmother, "Nana", as I called her - or my mom, but today was different.
Preparing potatoes to use in potato salad, I took the pan from the sink and moved it to a nearby table that was a bit lower and easier for this short person to peel "taters" over. Just that action and the subsequent motions of peeling spuds took me back to a time long ago, somewhere in my sub-conscious. Suddenly I was transported to my childhood, into a 1950's kitchen, where there was no running water and most certainly no garbage disposal. The kind of kitchen where all of the garbage was collected in white, probably porcelain pans, later to be tossed out over a garden, into a pig pen, or onto rich, black farmland soil. This task would take place on multiple occasions during the course of a day as Nana and my mother cooked for my dad, myself, and the other farm laborers who would be fed a large, mid-day meal.
How many times this scenario played out during my younger years I cannot accurately state, but I do remember being the little "gopher" whose job it was to carry out the garbage and toss it wherever I was instructed, as far as my little arms could throw the white pan's contents. I always felt important being the "garbage heaver" because after I'd accomplished my task, I would frolic a bit with the kittens, rub the noses of the calves, sneak a fistful of raspberries, or chase a butterfly or two.
Those were good days. I still had two of my umbilical chords......Nana and my mother. Today my connection with them was re-established, even if just briefly, by a fifteen-inch plastic pan used to collect potato peelings. How strangely wonderful.
Thank you, God.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Definition of Insanity
I think I may have written about this previously, so readers, please forgive me if I have used the title before.
Definition of Insanity: Repeating the same unsuccessful and non-productive action over and over and over.
That pretty much sums it up, don't you think? At least, that is the definition I was familiar in the workplace and I doubt that it has changed much since I left the classroom full-time.
Today I experienced the definition first-hand - once again - shopping in a store that has a large disregard for little customers and high regard for important customers; i.e. you are judged for your zip code, the heft of your wallet, the brand of your car and the label on your handbag. This business might as well post the requirements of store entry right on the outside of their primary entrance door. That way, little people such as Capt. SO and myself wouldn't waste time or energy walking into the high-altitude establishment where most of the employees are suffering from a lack of oxygen. The unfortunate reality is that, as prior customers, this business had services we needed. After today, it will be a cold day in Hades before I, at least, go anywhere near these people who are service providers, but take on the affectations of those customers they covet.
Business should be business and customers should be customers, but, in the real world, I understand that money talks - loud and clear - especially if those who have it wear it on their sleeves, have it hanging out of their pocketbooks, and stuck to their......... For the rest of us peons who pay as we go, we must acknowledge the caste system of who is important and who is not. Today, Capt. SO and I forgot, just for a moment, about our peon status. Rest assured, we will not make that mistake again.....ever.
We will take our peon business elsewhere.
Ancora imparo
Definition of Insanity: Repeating the same unsuccessful and non-productive action over and over and over.
That pretty much sums it up, don't you think? At least, that is the definition I was familiar in the workplace and I doubt that it has changed much since I left the classroom full-time.
Today I experienced the definition first-hand - once again - shopping in a store that has a large disregard for little customers and high regard for important customers; i.e. you are judged for your zip code, the heft of your wallet, the brand of your car and the label on your handbag. This business might as well post the requirements of store entry right on the outside of their primary entrance door. That way, little people such as Capt. SO and myself wouldn't waste time or energy walking into the high-altitude establishment where most of the employees are suffering from a lack of oxygen. The unfortunate reality is that, as prior customers, this business had services we needed. After today, it will be a cold day in Hades before I, at least, go anywhere near these people who are service providers, but take on the affectations of those customers they covet.
Business should be business and customers should be customers, but, in the real world, I understand that money talks - loud and clear - especially if those who have it wear it on their sleeves, have it hanging out of their pocketbooks, and stuck to their......... For the rest of us peons who pay as we go, we must acknowledge the caste system of who is important and who is not. Today, Capt. SO and I forgot, just for a moment, about our peon status. Rest assured, we will not make that mistake again.....ever.
We will take our peon business elsewhere.
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
On Automatic
In 1984 the Pointer Sisters had a smash hit, "Automatic". One line of the lyrics was/is: "The way to control it is go to the automatic." For some reason, that song got into my head today and starting the cognition process.
Automatic. We all go there. It is the space and place where we can operate and navigate without thought of motion, intent, or content. I don't believe that we rely on automatic from a position of complacency but rather from a place of safety and security. Automatic can only happen after purposeful practice and practice brings reliability and consistency in whatever we are trying to do or accomplish.
What is your "automatic"? I have many "automatics", I realize. Those actions that come from somewhere deep inside of me and that happen without really thinking at all. When I am on "automatic" and realize it, I feel somewhat like one of the "Stepford Wives" who moved about as automatons with robot-like movements.
But "automatic" is not about being robot-like, it is rather as if I am unsighted and can accomplish tasks without vision or sound.
Take for instance the scenario of losing electricity during a storm. Getting ready to go to work is a challenge when you have to move about in the dark. Somehow your tactile memory comes through and you can find everything you need to shower, dress, apply your make-up and do your hair. (You hope.) Of course, there is always the sigh of relief when you get to work, check out yourself in a mirror and find that nothing is on inside out, there are no combinations of clashing colors or patterns, your lipstick is on your lips-not your chin and that there is no toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe or trailing behind you.
Operating in the kitchen, in the dark, comes from automatic, doesn't it? Knowing exactly where each drawer is positioned, what is in each drawer or cabinet and where each object is placed. You can reach for a bowl, fill it with cereal, grab a spoon and pour the milk accurately over the cereal - all without the luxury of artificial lighting.
"Automatic" can also be a psychological state - a place we go, in our minds, that protects us from the buffeting winds of life, whether the winds be from external or internal sources. A psychological fetal position
that provides peace and tranquility when we need it the most.
Consider what your "automatics" are. Take them out, look at them, polish them up and keep them at the ready for when you are buffeted about. It is not a matter of if but when.
Ancora imparo
Automatic. We all go there. It is the space and place where we can operate and navigate without thought of motion, intent, or content. I don't believe that we rely on automatic from a position of complacency but rather from a place of safety and security. Automatic can only happen after purposeful practice and practice brings reliability and consistency in whatever we are trying to do or accomplish.
What is your "automatic"? I have many "automatics", I realize. Those actions that come from somewhere deep inside of me and that happen without really thinking at all. When I am on "automatic" and realize it, I feel somewhat like one of the "Stepford Wives" who moved about as automatons with robot-like movements.
But "automatic" is not about being robot-like, it is rather as if I am unsighted and can accomplish tasks without vision or sound.
Take for instance the scenario of losing electricity during a storm. Getting ready to go to work is a challenge when you have to move about in the dark. Somehow your tactile memory comes through and you can find everything you need to shower, dress, apply your make-up and do your hair. (You hope.) Of course, there is always the sigh of relief when you get to work, check out yourself in a mirror and find that nothing is on inside out, there are no combinations of clashing colors or patterns, your lipstick is on your lips-not your chin and that there is no toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe or trailing behind you.
Operating in the kitchen, in the dark, comes from automatic, doesn't it? Knowing exactly where each drawer is positioned, what is in each drawer or cabinet and where each object is placed. You can reach for a bowl, fill it with cereal, grab a spoon and pour the milk accurately over the cereal - all without the luxury of artificial lighting.
"Automatic" can also be a psychological state - a place we go, in our minds, that protects us from the buffeting winds of life, whether the winds be from external or internal sources. A psychological fetal position
that provides peace and tranquility when we need it the most.
Consider what your "automatics" are. Take them out, look at them, polish them up and keep them at the ready for when you are buffeted about. It is not a matter of if but when.
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 23, 2011
Grande Illusion
The weather had been Quixotic all afternoon. Weather forecasters had predicted a seventy-percent chance of rain, mostly after 1 p.m. with temperatures to be in the sixties. Cool and rainy. Not my cup of tea. But, wait, Mother Nature had other ideas and the afternoon turned out to be warm and sunny with big, poofy Cumulus clouds and a little breeze. Temperature control required either the air conditioning to be on or the hatches and salon screen to be open. Comfortable inside and out.
Later afternoon I strolled the dock, seeking conversation and found it with Jan, Bo and Molly. Well, Jan and I talked....I just got to pet Bo and Molly. During our conversation I could see the skies darkening more and more so I excused myself and began walking toward the car. During this short distance the skies opened up and by the time I boarded the Aqua RV once again, I was more wet than I wanted to be. Dripping hair and damp clothing required a quick towel off and a change of clothes. Grabbing a paperback, I headed for the upper deck, water bottle in hand, thoughts of a good book and relaxation in mind.
Just as I settled in, the wind and rain picked up once again. As the clouds ganged up, mashing themselves together, the effect was a dark and threatening 360 degree view. Suddenly the skies opened up, the wind surged, producing an effect I've never before seen.
The rain combined with the wind to create a horizontal vision much like curtains billowing in the wind.....only horizontally. It was as if the water's surface was covered with a wispy veil that someone had laid down but was whipping freely, as if thousands of air-conditioning ducts were beneath the water. The effect was one of a shimmering, gossamer, undulating film over the channel, creating millions of silvery threads combining together to give the illusion of a fine, silver tapestry blowing above an invisible cushion of air.
Even though this occurred during yet another transient storm, it was magical, simply magical. For just a fleeting moment I really was on a magic carpet ride, transported to another world.
A grande illusion, indeed.
Ancora imparo
Later afternoon I strolled the dock, seeking conversation and found it with Jan, Bo and Molly. Well, Jan and I talked....I just got to pet Bo and Molly. During our conversation I could see the skies darkening more and more so I excused myself and began walking toward the car. During this short distance the skies opened up and by the time I boarded the Aqua RV once again, I was more wet than I wanted to be. Dripping hair and damp clothing required a quick towel off and a change of clothes. Grabbing a paperback, I headed for the upper deck, water bottle in hand, thoughts of a good book and relaxation in mind.
Just as I settled in, the wind and rain picked up once again. As the clouds ganged up, mashing themselves together, the effect was a dark and threatening 360 degree view. Suddenly the skies opened up, the wind surged, producing an effect I've never before seen.
The rain combined with the wind to create a horizontal vision much like curtains billowing in the wind.....only horizontally. It was as if the water's surface was covered with a wispy veil that someone had laid down but was whipping freely, as if thousands of air-conditioning ducts were beneath the water. The effect was one of a shimmering, gossamer, undulating film over the channel, creating millions of silvery threads combining together to give the illusion of a fine, silver tapestry blowing above an invisible cushion of air.
Even though this occurred during yet another transient storm, it was magical, simply magical. For just a fleeting moment I really was on a magic carpet ride, transported to another world.
A grande illusion, indeed.
Ancora imparo
Umbilical Chords
Remember the umbilical chord that connected you to your mother during those formative months in untero?
Of course, we cannot remember having our tiny bodies attached to our mother's support system through the critical umbilical chord, but successfully attached we were and our presence is testimony to the miracle of the human body.
Last night, here on the Aqua RV, we rode out the rolling storms as they passed through our area. We knew they were coming and allowed Capt. SO to make advance adjustments to the lines and fenders. Our dockmates had returned home yesterday afternoon and asked us if we would keep an eye on their Aqua RV's lines and fenders as well. We, of course, said "yes" because most Aqua RV owners understand that we take care of one another.
After Capt. SO added three extra lines and tightened up already-present lines, we left the Aqua RV for an evening rendezvous with friends. The first line of the storms hit when we were in our friends' cottage but no untoward damages or surprises occurred. Two hours later the skies had somewhat cleared but then new, more threatening storm clouds appeared and we decided to head back to the Aqua RV. Around 9 p.m. all heck broke loose, with the rain, thunder and wind so loud that the our televisions could not be heard. Both of us scrambled to the upper deck to see "what was the matter" (from "Twas The Night Before Christmas"). Now, this may seem a silly place to be drawn to during a storm while one is on an Aqua RV, but that is where you will find most boaters during storms. The wind was ferocious, causing our dockmates' sailboat to list and strain on her lines so much that her hull looked as if it would hit the dock box in the slip. Visibility was limited to what could be seen during lightning strikes, but it wasn't hard to see what the wind was doing "next door". Our Aqua RV didn't seem to be adversely affected, thanks to the extra lines Capt. SO had secured.
About thirty minutes later, when the wind and rain had subsided for a brief respite, Capt. SO ventured out to shore up our neighbors' lines a bit. As we were preparing for bed and discussing the storm, I remarked how much boaters depend on their lines and Capt. SO said, "They are our umbilical chord to safety." Thanks to our "security" lines we were able to sleep, assured that the Aqua RV would stay in her slip.
I'm still ruminating on other symbolic umbilical chords. You might read more on this topic at a later time.
Ancora imparo
Of course, we cannot remember having our tiny bodies attached to our mother's support system through the critical umbilical chord, but successfully attached we were and our presence is testimony to the miracle of the human body.
Last night, here on the Aqua RV, we rode out the rolling storms as they passed through our area. We knew they were coming and allowed Capt. SO to make advance adjustments to the lines and fenders. Our dockmates had returned home yesterday afternoon and asked us if we would keep an eye on their Aqua RV's lines and fenders as well. We, of course, said "yes" because most Aqua RV owners understand that we take care of one another.
After Capt. SO added three extra lines and tightened up already-present lines, we left the Aqua RV for an evening rendezvous with friends. The first line of the storms hit when we were in our friends' cottage but no untoward damages or surprises occurred. Two hours later the skies had somewhat cleared but then new, more threatening storm clouds appeared and we decided to head back to the Aqua RV. Around 9 p.m. all heck broke loose, with the rain, thunder and wind so loud that the our televisions could not be heard. Both of us scrambled to the upper deck to see "what was the matter" (from "Twas The Night Before Christmas"). Now, this may seem a silly place to be drawn to during a storm while one is on an Aqua RV, but that is where you will find most boaters during storms. The wind was ferocious, causing our dockmates' sailboat to list and strain on her lines so much that her hull looked as if it would hit the dock box in the slip. Visibility was limited to what could be seen during lightning strikes, but it wasn't hard to see what the wind was doing "next door". Our Aqua RV didn't seem to be adversely affected, thanks to the extra lines Capt. SO had secured.
About thirty minutes later, when the wind and rain had subsided for a brief respite, Capt. SO ventured out to shore up our neighbors' lines a bit. As we were preparing for bed and discussing the storm, I remarked how much boaters depend on their lines and Capt. SO said, "They are our umbilical chord to safety." Thanks to our "security" lines we were able to sleep, assured that the Aqua RV would stay in her slip.
I'm still ruminating on other symbolic umbilical chords. You might read more on this topic at a later time.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The End Didn't Come....Yet
The pastor who proclaimed that the end of the world, as we know it, would come last week, must be feeling a bit embarrassed and humbled. If he is not humbled, he should be. What hubris it took to declare that he had interpreted the Bible and decoded what it really says. Whenever I hear a human announce that she or he has the correct interpretation of the Bible, my brain shuts off and I head in the opposite direction - as quickly as possible. Conceit is a dangerous and powerful aphrodisiac, often leading humans in directions that God didn't intend and does not "approve" of. It always astounds me when I hear stories of people who take these prognosticators at face value and spend their entire life savings preparing for events that some self-proclaimed prophet declares will transpire.
I just took part in an interesting conversation with others about what each one of us would do if we knew the "end" was approaching. Actions, tasks, or desires ranged from (really) having one last cup of "good" coffee, hugging family members that were close, calling family members living away to say "I love you" one final time, grabbing family pets (theological experts do not agree on whether or not pets will be allowed in the "Rapture"), and simply getting on the knees to pray.
For once, I didn't have an answer ready on the tip of my tongue. In these troubling times, the end could come by the hand of God or by the hand of some deranged individual or individuals. There is so much uncertainty, even on a day-by-day basis that if were to give much thought to "the end", I'm convinced I would either go mad or become hopelessly depressed. Either one of these options is a lose-lose for me so I will shoulder on as if every day is like another gift, for that is what each day is.
I hope you enjoy this "gift" day. I intend to.
Ancora imparo
I just took part in an interesting conversation with others about what each one of us would do if we knew the "end" was approaching. Actions, tasks, or desires ranged from (really) having one last cup of "good" coffee, hugging family members that were close, calling family members living away to say "I love you" one final time, grabbing family pets (theological experts do not agree on whether or not pets will be allowed in the "Rapture"), and simply getting on the knees to pray.
For once, I didn't have an answer ready on the tip of my tongue. In these troubling times, the end could come by the hand of God or by the hand of some deranged individual or individuals. There is so much uncertainty, even on a day-by-day basis that if were to give much thought to "the end", I'm convinced I would either go mad or become hopelessly depressed. Either one of these options is a lose-lose for me so I will shoulder on as if every day is like another gift, for that is what each day is.
I hope you enjoy this "gift" day. I intend to.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Big-Time Procrastination
Much has been written about procrastination. Even the experts cannot agree the cause for its occurrence. Some professionals believe that procrastination is a result of the procrastinator seeking to exert dominance and/or power. Others write that procrastination is a result of low self esteem and a lack of confidence. Yet other articles will proclaim that procrastination is simply laziness personified. Whatever the root cause, I am publicly proclaiming personal procrastination today.
I'm putting off doing a task because of......well, because of the odor I know will result when I use this new cleaning product. This product is supposed to be some miracle cleaning/polishing agent that will buff most any surface known to mankind.....but at a price - odor. (Too bad it cannot be used as a exfoliant on human feet. I'd never have to buff my feet again!)
Just like the opening line in fairy tales, "once upon a time" - in a former home that had really bad, iron-laden, water - I ignorantly used two products together that, had I been literate at that moment, I would have seen the warning that read, "Do not use in combination with..." the exact substances I thought would make a powerful cleaning combination. Well, they did make a powerful cleaning duo, but I was almost overcome with fumes in the windowless shower area I was determined to get spot-free. I never did understand what a foolish mistake I'd made until a later time when I was recounting the story to a group of friends and one of them pointed out to me the nasty nature of what I had combined.
Thusly, I am not real excited about using this wonder-substance. I have read the disclaimer on the spray can that says, "Use in a well-ventilated area." I take this kind of warning seriously these days, not anxious to repeat the feeling of light-headedness and difficulty breathing that I did "once upon a time".
Time to open all the hatches.
Ancora imparo
I'm putting off doing a task because of......well, because of the odor I know will result when I use this new cleaning product. This product is supposed to be some miracle cleaning/polishing agent that will buff most any surface known to mankind.....but at a price - odor. (Too bad it cannot be used as a exfoliant on human feet. I'd never have to buff my feet again!)
Just like the opening line in fairy tales, "once upon a time" - in a former home that had really bad, iron-laden, water - I ignorantly used two products together that, had I been literate at that moment, I would have seen the warning that read, "Do not use in combination with..." the exact substances I thought would make a powerful cleaning combination. Well, they did make a powerful cleaning duo, but I was almost overcome with fumes in the windowless shower area I was determined to get spot-free. I never did understand what a foolish mistake I'd made until a later time when I was recounting the story to a group of friends and one of them pointed out to me the nasty nature of what I had combined.
Thusly, I am not real excited about using this wonder-substance. I have read the disclaimer on the spray can that says, "Use in a well-ventilated area." I take this kind of warning seriously these days, not anxious to repeat the feeling of light-headedness and difficulty breathing that I did "once upon a time".
Time to open all the hatches.
Ancora imparo
Friday, May 20, 2011
Violated My Rule
Over the past five years, or so, I have adopted a "rule" that organizational experts recommend: For every one item that comes into your home, one item goes out. For the most part, this has worked well. In fact, I have been obsessed with getting rid of belongings, so more has gone out than has come in. (Well, sort of. I probably have purchased more clothing than I have discarded. Will have to work on this.) Anyway, I have a lot less "stuff" than I used to. Unless it is an item that Capt. SO and I have determined we need, I just don't buy much for us (Now grandchildren are another matter entirely!) because there just is not much space in which to store "stuff". This doesn't mean I would not like to purchase things, I just don't know where I would put them.
Space on the Aqua RV is definitely limited. However, I should qualify this. If you ever want to find anything, space on our Aqua RV is restricted. Burying things in obscure places does work but I would be hard-pressed to ever remember where I put anything. This afternoon I headed out to do final provision shopping, list in hand. A list works well for me - provided I stick to it. For the most part, I do limit my purchases to what I wrote down, although occasionally I do stray from my pre-determined list - which is exactly what happened today.
I blame Tarjay. Their seasonal plastic plates, bowls, trays, pitchers, serving containers and glasses are brightly colored with many geometric patterns, seemingly just to tempt the public into buying something they don't really need. (Me) I try not to fall victim to this subtle merchandising trick, but fall I did.....although not badly. I came back with six cute-as-can-be plastic glasses that will be perfect for summer beverages. Did we need these six cute-as-can-be plastic glasses? Absolutely not! But they will get used? Yes! and I even found a place to store them.....a place where they can be seen and easily obtained.
I love the way I can justify violating my one-in-one-out rule, don't you? I'm betting this is not the last instance where I violate this rule. Perhaps I should reconsider my rule???
Ancora imparo
Space on the Aqua RV is definitely limited. However, I should qualify this. If you ever want to find anything, space on our Aqua RV is restricted. Burying things in obscure places does work but I would be hard-pressed to ever remember where I put anything. This afternoon I headed out to do final provision shopping, list in hand. A list works well for me - provided I stick to it. For the most part, I do limit my purchases to what I wrote down, although occasionally I do stray from my pre-determined list - which is exactly what happened today.
I blame Tarjay. Their seasonal plastic plates, bowls, trays, pitchers, serving containers and glasses are brightly colored with many geometric patterns, seemingly just to tempt the public into buying something they don't really need. (Me) I try not to fall victim to this subtle merchandising trick, but fall I did.....although not badly. I came back with six cute-as-can-be plastic glasses that will be perfect for summer beverages. Did we need these six cute-as-can-be plastic glasses? Absolutely not! But they will get used? Yes! and I even found a place to store them.....a place where they can be seen and easily obtained.
I love the way I can justify violating my one-in-one-out rule, don't you? I'm betting this is not the last instance where I violate this rule. Perhaps I should reconsider my rule???
Ancora imparo
Thursday, May 19, 2011
It All Fits....Mostly
Today we moved back into the Aqua RV for the short season called summer. Its interior looks semi-settled. At least the bed is made and I do not think it will be long before one or both of us falls into it - perhaps face first. Capt. SO and I spend last night at a local hotel - not a bad hotel - just two unforgivable transgressions as far as I am concerned. Thin, scratchy and cheap facial tissues and fat, foam pillows. With my allergies in full aggression, the requirement for high-quality facial tissues is paramount in my mind and on my nose. With my sleeping always a hit and miss thing, a decent pillow is a must. Many hotels offer both foam and feather pillows but not this one. Two strikes against this establishment right off the bat.
Capt. SO and I began our day with an early wake-up call and breakfast, being told to be over at the storage building around 7:30 a.m. We were there, on time, and got to see the amazing feat of getting the Aqua RV on to a trailer and out of a very tight space, all by remote control. The man operating the remote was highly skilled and, when asked by me how many practice hours it took to reach his level of competence, he replied that when the trailer/remote device was initially delivered, it was handed to him and then the rep left. I didn't feel comfortable asking how many "oops" took place before he gained the confidence and skill I witnessed this morning.
We were in the water and sent on our way by 10 a.m., told to take her out and "run" her a bit to get air out of some lines, somewhere. We gladly obliged, especially since it was such a gorgeous day. We had just gone out of the "no-wake" zone, ready to open her up and both engine gauges hit red and engine warning alarms went off and so did the engines.....shut off by Capt. SO. After a few phone calls flew back and forth between Capt. and maintenance people, we anchored and waited for a TOW BOAT to come to our rescue. Never having had to be towed before, this was a new experience both for us and the Aqua RV. After three more hours of letting engines cool, bleeding lines of air while tied to a dock, and the subsequent addition of lots of antifreeze, we were on our way again.
Since we had lots of time to sit around and wait - for either engines or people - we took our time and put all of the "stuff" away that we brought that we deemed essential. Let me tell you that "essential" looks a lot different in a condo than in the cramped spaces of an Aqua RV interior. But, it all fits....mostly. By tomorrow's end, I am confident that it will all be hidden away.....somewhere......somehow.
Ah, summer.
Capt. SO and I began our day with an early wake-up call and breakfast, being told to be over at the storage building around 7:30 a.m. We were there, on time, and got to see the amazing feat of getting the Aqua RV on to a trailer and out of a very tight space, all by remote control. The man operating the remote was highly skilled and, when asked by me how many practice hours it took to reach his level of competence, he replied that when the trailer/remote device was initially delivered, it was handed to him and then the rep left. I didn't feel comfortable asking how many "oops" took place before he gained the confidence and skill I witnessed this morning.
We were in the water and sent on our way by 10 a.m., told to take her out and "run" her a bit to get air out of some lines, somewhere. We gladly obliged, especially since it was such a gorgeous day. We had just gone out of the "no-wake" zone, ready to open her up and both engine gauges hit red and engine warning alarms went off and so did the engines.....shut off by Capt. SO. After a few phone calls flew back and forth between Capt. and maintenance people, we anchored and waited for a TOW BOAT to come to our rescue. Never having had to be towed before, this was a new experience both for us and the Aqua RV. After three more hours of letting engines cool, bleeding lines of air while tied to a dock, and the subsequent addition of lots of antifreeze, we were on our way again.
Since we had lots of time to sit around and wait - for either engines or people - we took our time and put all of the "stuff" away that we brought that we deemed essential. Let me tell you that "essential" looks a lot different in a condo than in the cramped spaces of an Aqua RV interior. But, it all fits....mostly. By tomorrow's end, I am confident that it will all be hidden away.....somewhere......somehow.
Ah, summer.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Everything Is Getting Shorter, Including Me
As I was driving on the Interstate this morning, listening to classical music, my mind was too busy. Instead of unwinding with the music, which I eventually did, I was focused on what seems to be a shrinking of everything. Well, the things that should be shrinking are not and those that I'd prefer to keep as they are, are diminishing.
Take, for instance, the list of foods that I am supposed to, or should, eat. My taste buds still crave the flavors and textures of meat, bread and dairy products - namely cheese - and sugars; i.e. desserts. Yet my body is increasingly telling me it is not happy when I ingest many types of meat, gluten, dairy or sugar-laden products.. Hence, the shrinking list of foods that agree with all of my systems.
Then there is the shrinking list of months of the year that I enjoy. I almost feel Grinch-like by making this declaration - as if I am stealing the joy from others who really relish the cold and snow of winter or the heat and humidity of summer. As I get older, I find that my enjoyment of seasonal extremes is diminishing greatly. I do not look forward to the sub-zero temps during what we call "the dead of winter", nor do I anticipate dripping with sweat every time I step outside of air conditioned comfort during "the dog days" of summer. Rather, my favorite months are April, October, and November, when the weather tends to be more temperate.......here, at least.
Finally, I realize that my productive hours, during the day, are also lessening. I have always had two speeds, either stop or go, but I used to be able to "go" from 5 a.m. until 10 p.m., nonstop, like the Energizer bunny on steroids. I have noticed, as of late, that my "good" hours are shrinking as well. Before too many years, I'll be alert and productive only between the hours of 8 a.m. to 10 a.m. The rest of the day might be spent snoozing, drooling or knitting incessantly.
Oops, I see it is beyond the time when I am alert. Gotta go!
Ancora imparo
Take, for instance, the list of foods that I am supposed to, or should, eat. My taste buds still crave the flavors and textures of meat, bread and dairy products - namely cheese - and sugars; i.e. desserts. Yet my body is increasingly telling me it is not happy when I ingest many types of meat, gluten, dairy or sugar-laden products.. Hence, the shrinking list of foods that agree with all of my systems.
Then there is the shrinking list of months of the year that I enjoy. I almost feel Grinch-like by making this declaration - as if I am stealing the joy from others who really relish the cold and snow of winter or the heat and humidity of summer. As I get older, I find that my enjoyment of seasonal extremes is diminishing greatly. I do not look forward to the sub-zero temps during what we call "the dead of winter", nor do I anticipate dripping with sweat every time I step outside of air conditioned comfort during "the dog days" of summer. Rather, my favorite months are April, October, and November, when the weather tends to be more temperate.......here, at least.
Finally, I realize that my productive hours, during the day, are also lessening. I have always had two speeds, either stop or go, but I used to be able to "go" from 5 a.m. until 10 p.m., nonstop, like the Energizer bunny on steroids. I have noticed, as of late, that my "good" hours are shrinking as well. Before too many years, I'll be alert and productive only between the hours of 8 a.m. to 10 a.m. The rest of the day might be spent snoozing, drooling or knitting incessantly.
Oops, I see it is beyond the time when I am alert. Gotta go!
Ancora imparo
Was It An Univited Visitor?
It was bedtime....last night. I had just finished watching the season finale of "Castle", which ended both predictably and unpredictably. It is not unexpected to have a leading character shot or wounded during the finale in order to keep the viewing public guessing and wanting to tune in when the season returns, but I did not expect to have the character of police captain turn out to be a traitor and ultimately get killed.
And so I digress.
Capt. SO had turned in before me so I grabbed a flashlight with which to navigate in the darkness, not wanting to disturb his newly-attained sleep. The blinds were all in an "up" position and as I padded about, I kept noticing shafts of light coming in through the windows that line the condo on the side of the deck. Since this is a deck with stairs that lead down to the lawn below, the seemingly moving shafts of light gave me cause to pause and study the outer darkness carefully. Later I would realized that what I thought were moving shafts of light was just light interrupted in the inner darkness by furniture outlines as I was moving about.
Feeling silly, but still a tiny bit unsettled, I turned off the flashlight and walked closer to the windows. In order to move toward the windows, I had to weave through a few pieces of furniture and as the light shafts changed, I found my heart beating just a bit faster. "Is someone out on our deck?" "Do they have a flashlight?" I was transported back to my youth, reading a Nancy Drew novel, thinking of myself as an amateur sleuth.
Once my eyes adjusted to the natural darkness, I walked directly to the deck windows and gazed out. What I saw shocked me and then I started to giggle. The light shafts, that I attributed to a possible uninvited visitor on our deck, were actually beams of light from a gorgeous full moon. We've had cloudy, gloomy days and nights for so long that I had become accustomed to the darkest of nights, with the moon and stars obscured from view by heavy cloud cover. Even though I was bone-tired, I took a few minutes to appreciate what I was seeing - a bright, white orb sitting high enough over the trees to bathe my living area with celestial wattage, all too seldom seen as of latter months.
Thank you, Man-in-the-Moon for making an appearance!
Ancora imparo
And so I digress.
Capt. SO had turned in before me so I grabbed a flashlight with which to navigate in the darkness, not wanting to disturb his newly-attained sleep. The blinds were all in an "up" position and as I padded about, I kept noticing shafts of light coming in through the windows that line the condo on the side of the deck. Since this is a deck with stairs that lead down to the lawn below, the seemingly moving shafts of light gave me cause to pause and study the outer darkness carefully. Later I would realized that what I thought were moving shafts of light was just light interrupted in the inner darkness by furniture outlines as I was moving about.
Feeling silly, but still a tiny bit unsettled, I turned off the flashlight and walked closer to the windows. In order to move toward the windows, I had to weave through a few pieces of furniture and as the light shafts changed, I found my heart beating just a bit faster. "Is someone out on our deck?" "Do they have a flashlight?" I was transported back to my youth, reading a Nancy Drew novel, thinking of myself as an amateur sleuth.
Once my eyes adjusted to the natural darkness, I walked directly to the deck windows and gazed out. What I saw shocked me and then I started to giggle. The light shafts, that I attributed to a possible uninvited visitor on our deck, were actually beams of light from a gorgeous full moon. We've had cloudy, gloomy days and nights for so long that I had become accustomed to the darkest of nights, with the moon and stars obscured from view by heavy cloud cover. Even though I was bone-tired, I took a few minutes to appreciate what I was seeing - a bright, white orb sitting high enough over the trees to bathe my living area with celestial wattage, all too seldom seen as of latter months.
Thank you, Man-in-the-Moon for making an appearance!
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 16, 2011
You're Not Really Married Until......
Capt. SO and I attended a wedding this past weekend. The bride and groom have been around the marriage block more than once, they have whiskers and experience on their side and they are two kind, smart cookies. As with most weddings, I am more inclined to reflect on the ceremony itself rather than ponder what kind of married life the two tying the knot will have.
The audience, or congregation, as in this case the ceremony was held in a church, was comprised of all manner of family members and friends of the bride and groom. Many of us in attendance would not count ourselves as personal friends of the two, but rather church "friends" who wish them well in their new life together, since a wide spectrum of people received invitations to the wedding. The couple requested no gifts as they combined two long-term households and, as they explained to the pastor, "did not need any more toasters".
The pastor delivered an easy and relaxed, off-the-cuff sacred ritual (I know this is an oxymoron.) that met the bride and groom's requests and put all in attendance at ease. The focal point of the ceremony was not the fact that these two got married, but that - from a story about how they met at a local county fair and fell in love with two donkeys - a live donkey was actually brought into the sanctuary and down the aisle.....to the delight of everyone and the surprise of the bride and groom. The donkey, "Hurricane", was a docile animal whose sex was not apparent, and was, thankfully, church potty-trained. While obviously a bit nervous, the beautiful beast trotted willingly down the center aisle, led by the owner - I presume - and obediently let the bride and groom put their hands deep into the little animal's fur.
I cannot explain how touching the donkey's appearance was, except to tell you that tears came to my eyes as Hurricane trotted down the aisle. What trust Hurricane had in its owner/handler! How many of us could walk through the middle of a throng of alien creatures, halter on our heads, rope tethering us to one who is in charge of us?!
The joke now is that you are not really married until the jacka$^* has appeared somewhere in your ceremony. A retired pastor remarked, yesterday, that he'd never had a jackass (Yes, he said it just before prayer time.) in any ceremony he presided over but he'd married a few. (Yes, this 84-year old man said that, too!)
I don't make this stuff up, I just think about what I've observed and heard.
Ancora imparo
The audience, or congregation, as in this case the ceremony was held in a church, was comprised of all manner of family members and friends of the bride and groom. Many of us in attendance would not count ourselves as personal friends of the two, but rather church "friends" who wish them well in their new life together, since a wide spectrum of people received invitations to the wedding. The couple requested no gifts as they combined two long-term households and, as they explained to the pastor, "did not need any more toasters".
The pastor delivered an easy and relaxed, off-the-cuff sacred ritual (I know this is an oxymoron.) that met the bride and groom's requests and put all in attendance at ease. The focal point of the ceremony was not the fact that these two got married, but that - from a story about how they met at a local county fair and fell in love with two donkeys - a live donkey was actually brought into the sanctuary and down the aisle.....to the delight of everyone and the surprise of the bride and groom. The donkey, "Hurricane", was a docile animal whose sex was not apparent, and was, thankfully, church potty-trained. While obviously a bit nervous, the beautiful beast trotted willingly down the center aisle, led by the owner - I presume - and obediently let the bride and groom put their hands deep into the little animal's fur.
I cannot explain how touching the donkey's appearance was, except to tell you that tears came to my eyes as Hurricane trotted down the aisle. What trust Hurricane had in its owner/handler! How many of us could walk through the middle of a throng of alien creatures, halter on our heads, rope tethering us to one who is in charge of us?!
The joke now is that you are not really married until the jacka$^* has appeared somewhere in your ceremony. A retired pastor remarked, yesterday, that he'd never had a jackass (Yes, he said it just before prayer time.) in any ceremony he presided over but he'd married a few. (Yes, this 84-year old man said that, too!)
I don't make this stuff up, I just think about what I've observed and heard.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Where, O Where Has My Brain Gone?
I won't even ask the question: "Have you ever had a day like this?", because I know each and every human has had a day where the thoughts are flying faster than the synapses can connect.
I am there. My faulty GPS took me there, without my knowledge and definitely without my permission. There seems to be this non-definable state that is a combination of confusion, determination not to be confused, resolve to keep "it" all together, dogged will to get all my thoughts down onto lists, and the reality that when I look at one thing, it will trigger another thought about another "thing".
I just have too many things going on in my brain which, despite my need for it to be performing at top efficiency, seems destined, today, to continually fault out, much like the sputtering light switch that Capt. SO keeps fiddling with. I swear that I have a pad of paper, with writing instrument next to it, in every room of the condo, each pad having a list of "things" written on it that pop into my head. I am amazed that I slept as well as I did last night because on my walk this morning, I kept thinking of "things" and my brain was filled with desperation to hold onto those thoughts until I could get home and spill the thoughts out onto paper.
With every cross-out line I draw through a list item, I count it as a small victory as my brain fights the concept of eminent domain seizure from some unseen force that wants to derail my cognitive functions. My cerebrum seems to be caught in a dual to the death between the voices that shout "Think, think, think!" and the other voices that shout "Not today, not today, not today"!
Who will win? I know which set of voices needs to win and I can feel a settling effect simply from typing this posting. Somehow, forcing my mind to spell, create syntax, and add punctuation has helped quell the disparate disagreement raging in my head. For the moment, my zen has returned, but once my fingers leave the safety and security of my laptop's keyboard, I cannot assure anyone of a full sentence being able to be uttered from my mouth....at least today.
I have about seventeen hours to get "it" together.
"I think I can, I think I can, I think I can."
Ancora imparo
I am there. My faulty GPS took me there, without my knowledge and definitely without my permission. There seems to be this non-definable state that is a combination of confusion, determination not to be confused, resolve to keep "it" all together, dogged will to get all my thoughts down onto lists, and the reality that when I look at one thing, it will trigger another thought about another "thing".
I just have too many things going on in my brain which, despite my need for it to be performing at top efficiency, seems destined, today, to continually fault out, much like the sputtering light switch that Capt. SO keeps fiddling with. I swear that I have a pad of paper, with writing instrument next to it, in every room of the condo, each pad having a list of "things" written on it that pop into my head. I am amazed that I slept as well as I did last night because on my walk this morning, I kept thinking of "things" and my brain was filled with desperation to hold onto those thoughts until I could get home and spill the thoughts out onto paper.
With every cross-out line I draw through a list item, I count it as a small victory as my brain fights the concept of eminent domain seizure from some unseen force that wants to derail my cognitive functions. My cerebrum seems to be caught in a dual to the death between the voices that shout "Think, think, think!" and the other voices that shout "Not today, not today, not today"!
Who will win? I know which set of voices needs to win and I can feel a settling effect simply from typing this posting. Somehow, forcing my mind to spell, create syntax, and add punctuation has helped quell the disparate disagreement raging in my head. For the moment, my zen has returned, but once my fingers leave the safety and security of my laptop's keyboard, I cannot assure anyone of a full sentence being able to be uttered from my mouth....at least today.
I have about seventeen hours to get "it" together.
"I think I can, I think I can, I think I can."
Ancora imparo
Friday, May 13, 2011
Uncanny Abilities
I just came home from a school assembly honoring a gentleman - in every sense of the word - who is retiring after a teaching career spanning thirty-three years- dedicated to the age range of kindergarten through eighth grade. Assembly participation was shared equally by students and fellow staff members. It was obvious from all of the sniffles, red-eyes, and eye-wiping that everyone in that gymnasium was touched by the man in some way, shape or form.
There were several skits performed by students and, in those skits, the students demonstrated their uncanny ability to mimic their teachers. You think the student in the next-to-the-last row, window seat is paying zero attention? Think again. When put on the spot, I guarantee that student could give an Oscar-worthy rendition of the teacher in action. Today's assembly proved just that. I taught with this guy for twelve years and the students had his mannerisms, voice nuances, and sayings down to the proverbial "t".
In my classroom, when I would know I would be gone - which wasn't often - an adult substitute had to, by law, be present. However, since ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the sub population is not trained to direct bands, my students were always schooled in how to conduct. Huge conducting-pattern posters were always hung at the back of the bandroom, so that when the student conductors stepped onto the podium, they were looking over the heads of their compatriots, right at the gigantic posters. This always worked well and many of the students took conducting the bands very seriously.
The day before I would be gone, we always had a "dress-rehearsal" day where the students would follow the rehearsal schedule I had mapped out on the white board. I would stand at the back of the room, looking at the band's "back", face-to-face with the student conductors. For many of the student conductors, it was as if I was seeing myself in a mirror. The students were masters at mimicry. I never sensed disrespect but I did certainly "see" what I was like as a teacher and a conductor. They (the students) had me mastered perhaps better than I! I would usually find myself chuckling at the performances - for that is exactly what they were......acting performances......playing the part of moi.
Today, that is what I saw at the retirement assembly. Students who clearly love this teacher, some having had him as an instructor for nine years. That is a long time - a long stretch of continuity for kids - some of whom have little continuity in their home lives, but at school, they've had this "giant" of a human being demonstrating what it means to be thoughful, courteous, and humane to one another. The kind of teacher who loves kids and has loved what he has been doing.
It shows. Congratulations, Greg. May your retirement be all that you hope it will be.
Ancora imparo
There were several skits performed by students and, in those skits, the students demonstrated their uncanny ability to mimic their teachers. You think the student in the next-to-the-last row, window seat is paying zero attention? Think again. When put on the spot, I guarantee that student could give an Oscar-worthy rendition of the teacher in action. Today's assembly proved just that. I taught with this guy for twelve years and the students had his mannerisms, voice nuances, and sayings down to the proverbial "t".
In my classroom, when I would know I would be gone - which wasn't often - an adult substitute had to, by law, be present. However, since ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the sub population is not trained to direct bands, my students were always schooled in how to conduct. Huge conducting-pattern posters were always hung at the back of the bandroom, so that when the student conductors stepped onto the podium, they were looking over the heads of their compatriots, right at the gigantic posters. This always worked well and many of the students took conducting the bands very seriously.
The day before I would be gone, we always had a "dress-rehearsal" day where the students would follow the rehearsal schedule I had mapped out on the white board. I would stand at the back of the room, looking at the band's "back", face-to-face with the student conductors. For many of the student conductors, it was as if I was seeing myself in a mirror. The students were masters at mimicry. I never sensed disrespect but I did certainly "see" what I was like as a teacher and a conductor. They (the students) had me mastered perhaps better than I! I would usually find myself chuckling at the performances - for that is exactly what they were......acting performances......playing the part of moi.
Today, that is what I saw at the retirement assembly. Students who clearly love this teacher, some having had him as an instructor for nine years. That is a long time - a long stretch of continuity for kids - some of whom have little continuity in their home lives, but at school, they've had this "giant" of a human being demonstrating what it means to be thoughful, courteous, and humane to one another. The kind of teacher who loves kids and has loved what he has been doing.
It shows. Congratulations, Greg. May your retirement be all that you hope it will be.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Where Are MY Updates?
My computer has a good gig going on. It gets a regular virus scan, a regular malware scan, and, somewhere from "The Cloud", regular updates get deposited into my laptop, like unseen ghosts moving about in the night. I see a need for this technology to be adapted for humans.
Imagine if all of our homes had a machine that we could step in front of, or step through, that would scan us for viruses and other non-desirable maladies lurking about our physical plants. The ramifications for weight control would be huge. The scanner/sensor could have a siren attachment, along with a loud notification of any weight gain beyond .5 pounds. What a deterrent for eating that last cookie!
Carrying a negative aura about you? No problem with this scanner/sensor that would be designed to gauge one's grumpiness level. The machine could be programmed to emit a redish glow whenever someone who got up on the wrong side of the bed either stepped through the contraption or even came close to it. As of late, my machine would be glowing with more redness than a sunburn worthy of mention in the "Guinness Book of World Records".
Updates.....otherwise known as technology improvements? Who couldn't use those - on a daily basis. Just like the "Extreme Makeover" television series, I need an extreme makeover, starting with my studs. I need new electrical wiring, less insulation, internal climate control, a new roof, definitely a smaller basement, and a better security system. My shingles are wrinkling so new siding is in order. My landscaping is due for an overhaul as well. Plumbing? Well, we won't even go there. My pipes are rusty and my holding tank needs enlarging.
Yes, we all could benefit from the same attentiveness "The Cloud" showers on our computers. Wouldn't it feel great to go to bed every night, knowing that if we left ourselves plugged in, we'd be improved and updated by the time the morning sun rose? I'm certain that I have set forth a life-changing idea, one that might be worthy of an award of some type.
No problem. My new scanner/sensor's siren can sound off whenever I have an idea. Blue for a good idea......green for idiocy. Wanna guess what color will me emitted most often?
Ancora imparo
Imagine if all of our homes had a machine that we could step in front of, or step through, that would scan us for viruses and other non-desirable maladies lurking about our physical plants. The ramifications for weight control would be huge. The scanner/sensor could have a siren attachment, along with a loud notification of any weight gain beyond .5 pounds. What a deterrent for eating that last cookie!
Carrying a negative aura about you? No problem with this scanner/sensor that would be designed to gauge one's grumpiness level. The machine could be programmed to emit a redish glow whenever someone who got up on the wrong side of the bed either stepped through the contraption or even came close to it. As of late, my machine would be glowing with more redness than a sunburn worthy of mention in the "Guinness Book of World Records".
Updates.....otherwise known as technology improvements? Who couldn't use those - on a daily basis. Just like the "Extreme Makeover" television series, I need an extreme makeover, starting with my studs. I need new electrical wiring, less insulation, internal climate control, a new roof, definitely a smaller basement, and a better security system. My shingles are wrinkling so new siding is in order. My landscaping is due for an overhaul as well. Plumbing? Well, we won't even go there. My pipes are rusty and my holding tank needs enlarging.
Yes, we all could benefit from the same attentiveness "The Cloud" showers on our computers. Wouldn't it feel great to go to bed every night, knowing that if we left ourselves plugged in, we'd be improved and updated by the time the morning sun rose? I'm certain that I have set forth a life-changing idea, one that might be worthy of an award of some type.
No problem. My new scanner/sensor's siren can sound off whenever I have an idea. Blue for a good idea......green for idiocy. Wanna guess what color will me emitted most often?
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 9, 2011
Heard It On The Radio
Public Radio provides me with many thought-provoking stories, statements and segments. My mind often begins whirring after being poked and prodded by a guest whose topic may not be of any initial interest to me, but, as the interview proceeds, I become drawn in - either by the show-host's questions and/or the guest's responses.
I don't even remember the topic of conversation that was being held this morning.....something to do with a mid-eastern country, I think. I busied myself with whatever I was doing at the time, listening rather half-heartedly and then - boom - (Thank you, Donald Trump.) a sentence stuck out as if it was radioactive. "No nation has friends - we only have interests." I am not even able to attribute the sentence to the person who uttered it so my apologies to the guest-expert. What would become a two-by-four moment for me was not applying the statement as it was intended but thinking about how it applied to people.
There are those among us upright humans who do not tend a garden for friends but rather shower water, seed, and fertilizer only on those who might be of future (or present) use; i.e. whomever suits their interests at the time. Readers may have been on the receiving end of someone who seeks out "interests" rather than cultivating friendship and, if you have, you may be able to grasp my tongue-in-cheekiness here.
The thought I would put forth is this: Why bother going through the charade of motions to purport to be a friend, or seek friendship, when it could be more efficient to simply announce the need for another person on a need-by-need basis. This way, all intentions would be up front, understood, and out in the open. No need for insincerity, facades, disingenuities, or hypocrisy. Better to announce, "Hey, I need you just for this....but not beyond.", rather than to imply interest.
People should have friends, not interests.
Ancora imparo
I don't even remember the topic of conversation that was being held this morning.....something to do with a mid-eastern country, I think. I busied myself with whatever I was doing at the time, listening rather half-heartedly and then - boom - (Thank you, Donald Trump.) a sentence stuck out as if it was radioactive. "No nation has friends - we only have interests." I am not even able to attribute the sentence to the person who uttered it so my apologies to the guest-expert. What would become a two-by-four moment for me was not applying the statement as it was intended but thinking about how it applied to people.
There are those among us upright humans who do not tend a garden for friends but rather shower water, seed, and fertilizer only on those who might be of future (or present) use; i.e. whomever suits their interests at the time. Readers may have been on the receiving end of someone who seeks out "interests" rather than cultivating friendship and, if you have, you may be able to grasp my tongue-in-cheekiness here.
The thought I would put forth is this: Why bother going through the charade of motions to purport to be a friend, or seek friendship, when it could be more efficient to simply announce the need for another person on a need-by-need basis. This way, all intentions would be up front, understood, and out in the open. No need for insincerity, facades, disingenuities, or hypocrisy. Better to announce, "Hey, I need you just for this....but not beyond.", rather than to imply interest.
People should have friends, not interests.
Ancora imparo
Cute Little Guys
Little did I know, pun intended, that when I purchased a set of "Mr." books in the 1980's - and every "Mr." book written thereafter that I could get my hands on - that I was purchasing a slice of eventual Americana, thanks to children's author, Roger Hargreaves. All I knew was that my children loved to hear the books and Capt. SO and I loved reading them. The illustrations were simplistic in nature, perhaps giving adults a rotund and smallish character that they could identify with. Whatever the reason, the book series was a hit at our house.
The "Mr." characters were instantly lovable - displaying human traits and tendencies that we all share but may not be comfortable allowing the rest of the world to see. The series' illustrator did a magnificent job of adding facial expressions that conveyed impishness, impulsivity, rakishness, puckishness - along with a full range of human emotions - all displayed on those round, tiny faces.
Capt. SO and I did have one favorite "Mr." book, titled either "Mr. Noisy" or "Mr. Loud". Both of our kids' parents so enjoyed reading the book because we could be loud and goofy, which felt very therapeutic after a long day - knowing that after reading books, the kids would go to bed and one, or both, of us would have an hour or two of down time before no longer being able to keep our eyes open. I can still hear the children's giggles as we'd do our best to mimic what we thought a loud, obnoxious voice would sound like.
That is one of the beauties of books. The classic books are still around - as are newer, well-written books - and I have so many wonderful memories attached to a time when life (now) looked much more simple and laid back. I know, somewhere deep in my brain, that life wasn't really quiet and tranquil then, but my memory has chosen to file only those feelings of one-ness with the kids. A time I can only retrieve in my memory.
Priceless.
Thank you, Roger Hargreaves.
Ancora imparo
The "Mr." characters were instantly lovable - displaying human traits and tendencies that we all share but may not be comfortable allowing the rest of the world to see. The series' illustrator did a magnificent job of adding facial expressions that conveyed impishness, impulsivity, rakishness, puckishness - along with a full range of human emotions - all displayed on those round, tiny faces.
Capt. SO and I did have one favorite "Mr." book, titled either "Mr. Noisy" or "Mr. Loud". Both of our kids' parents so enjoyed reading the book because we could be loud and goofy, which felt very therapeutic after a long day - knowing that after reading books, the kids would go to bed and one, or both, of us would have an hour or two of down time before no longer being able to keep our eyes open. I can still hear the children's giggles as we'd do our best to mimic what we thought a loud, obnoxious voice would sound like.
That is one of the beauties of books. The classic books are still around - as are newer, well-written books - and I have so many wonderful memories attached to a time when life (now) looked much more simple and laid back. I know, somewhere deep in my brain, that life wasn't really quiet and tranquil then, but my memory has chosen to file only those feelings of one-ness with the kids. A time I can only retrieve in my memory.
Priceless.
Thank you, Roger Hargreaves.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Hallmark Daze
Hallmark Greetings, Inc. must love the "ka-ching" all the way to the bank with earnings from the special days it promotes. John Q. and Mary S. Public feed right into this mindset that makes us feel what???? Guilty - if we do not honor our loved ones by showering them with cards?
Please do not misunderstand me. I am all for letting my loved ones know just that.......that they are loved unconditionally and forever. I do, however, become uncomfortable on days such as today - Mother's Day - when so many places and institutions shower mothers with attention and accolades. Again, please do not misunderstand me. I believe that mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, god parents, guardians.....all deserve accolades and attention.......but I believe that this "over-attentiveness", I'll call it, only serves to bring raw emotion to the surface of those who are not mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, god parents, guardians and the like.
Every year I see the effect of this attention paid to mothers on the faces of those who, for some reason, are not, have not been, cannot be, or - the worst - used to be - mothers. Some women hide this sorrow well. It is masked by effusive smiling but if one looks closely into their eyes, one will see the pain. Other women cry openly, sometimes even hastily excusing themselves from whatever room they are in during the time the "mothers" are being recognized.
I suppose I sound like a Mother's Day Scrooge but I am not. I just remain convinced that on days such as this - Mother's Day - a little more sensitivity might be in order, trying to put ourselves in the shoes of women who do not carry the magnificent title of "Mother". I have known the delightful and amazing feeling to have a little (and big) hand reach for mine and hear the words, "I love you, Mom.", or, "I love you, Grandma." Let's instead celebrate all men and women - all humankind - as we form a great village where we care for one another and Hallmark's bottom line shrinks just a tad.
Ancora imparo
Please do not misunderstand me. I am all for letting my loved ones know just that.......that they are loved unconditionally and forever. I do, however, become uncomfortable on days such as today - Mother's Day - when so many places and institutions shower mothers with attention and accolades. Again, please do not misunderstand me. I believe that mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, god parents, guardians.....all deserve accolades and attention.......but I believe that this "over-attentiveness", I'll call it, only serves to bring raw emotion to the surface of those who are not mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, god parents, guardians and the like.
Every year I see the effect of this attention paid to mothers on the faces of those who, for some reason, are not, have not been, cannot be, or - the worst - used to be - mothers. Some women hide this sorrow well. It is masked by effusive smiling but if one looks closely into their eyes, one will see the pain. Other women cry openly, sometimes even hastily excusing themselves from whatever room they are in during the time the "mothers" are being recognized.
I suppose I sound like a Mother's Day Scrooge but I am not. I just remain convinced that on days such as this - Mother's Day - a little more sensitivity might be in order, trying to put ourselves in the shoes of women who do not carry the magnificent title of "Mother". I have known the delightful and amazing feeling to have a little (and big) hand reach for mine and hear the words, "I love you, Mom.", or, "I love you, Grandma." Let's instead celebrate all men and women - all humankind - as we form a great village where we care for one another and Hallmark's bottom line shrinks just a tad.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Debate Topic
Debate Topic: Why I Need Three Extra Residences, An Airplane and A Pilot
Three Extra Places, An Airplane and A Pilot: No not the title of a bad movie, but what I have decided to add to my bucket list of dreams. Today sealed the deal. I need to have three residences, other than the one I currently live in and I need an airplane - complete with a pilot to get me where I need to be, when I want to be there. Read on to find my constructive reasoning.
Reason Number One
Today Capt. SO and I were definitely in Grandparents' Heaven, getting to hang with The Three Musketeers, their parents, and five of their little friends for a birthday party/picnic. But, it took us almost seven hours of driving time in order to spend time in Grandparents' Heaven. We were lucky to be invited to witness this birthday party and even luckier to be available to attend. It won't be that many months that TLV will begin school and then school programs will come up that Capt. SO and I would love to attend but those three-plus hours one way will present a challenge.
Reason Number Two
Offspring Number One does some fabulous performing - in a direction opposite of Offspring Number Two and the Three Musketeers. I'd like to be able to hear her sing at every performance, because she's just that good.
Reason Number Three
Aqua RV season will be upon us shortly and the Good Ship Lollipop is three-plus hours north of Offspring Number One and about eight hours north of Offspring Number Two and the Three Musketeers.
Conclusion
In conclusion, I have concluded - based on my own research and opinion - that I need three more residences, an airplane and a pilot in order to be able to see Three Musketeers on a moment's notice; to be able to hear Offspring Number One sing at every gig; to be able to spend time on the Good Ship Lollipop.....way up north....and still get south when I need to at the times I want to.
That should be enough constructive reasoning to convince Capt. SO to see things my way.......don't you think?
Any bets on the odds of this happening?
Ancora imparo
Three Extra Places, An Airplane and A Pilot: No not the title of a bad movie, but what I have decided to add to my bucket list of dreams. Today sealed the deal. I need to have three residences, other than the one I currently live in and I need an airplane - complete with a pilot to get me where I need to be, when I want to be there. Read on to find my constructive reasoning.
Reason Number One
Today Capt. SO and I were definitely in Grandparents' Heaven, getting to hang with The Three Musketeers, their parents, and five of their little friends for a birthday party/picnic. But, it took us almost seven hours of driving time in order to spend time in Grandparents' Heaven. We were lucky to be invited to witness this birthday party and even luckier to be available to attend. It won't be that many months that TLV will begin school and then school programs will come up that Capt. SO and I would love to attend but those three-plus hours one way will present a challenge.
Reason Number Two
Offspring Number One does some fabulous performing - in a direction opposite of Offspring Number Two and the Three Musketeers. I'd like to be able to hear her sing at every performance, because she's just that good.
Reason Number Three
Aqua RV season will be upon us shortly and the Good Ship Lollipop is three-plus hours north of Offspring Number One and about eight hours north of Offspring Number Two and the Three Musketeers.
Conclusion
In conclusion, I have concluded - based on my own research and opinion - that I need three more residences, an airplane and a pilot in order to be able to see Three Musketeers on a moment's notice; to be able to hear Offspring Number One sing at every gig; to be able to spend time on the Good Ship Lollipop.....way up north....and still get south when I need to at the times I want to.
That should be enough constructive reasoning to convince Capt. SO to see things my way.......don't you think?
Any bets on the odds of this happening?
Ancora imparo
Friday, May 6, 2011
The Gift Of Time
Today was to be jam-packed. I'd prepared for this day as best I could, making lists of what needed to be done, when the tasks needed to be finished and what tasks could be completed early or in early, partial stages. I awakened today with a plan of attack, a course of action - a time table, and then, Voila! - a change of plans that has resulted in the gift of perhaps more than two additional hours in my day at home.
Have you ever been given the gift of time? Those kinds of days come few and far between, don't they?
I can remember when I was teaching, there would be rare occasions when a certain grade level could have a sudden change of plans for the day, or would have an pre-planned activity, precluding me from working with those children, but the resultant effect could be an open twenty to forty "bare" minutes for me. Again, this was very rare, but when it did occur, you would have thought I had been given a month's worth of extra time, the way I tore around, grabbing this and that, running here and there, usually heading for the office work room, hoping the copy machine was available or turning into the phone room, trying to return parental phone calls.
I have decided to use today's "extra" time to recharge my battery, first by getting in my yoga workout, which I thought would be a casualty of this day, and, secondly, reading a magazine that has been sitting patiently at the edge of my desk, calling to me, saying "Open me now!" Well, this is the day that the magazine's call-out will be acknowledged and acted upon.
Stop and listen for a moment or two, if you are able. Do you have a book, magazine or relaxing activity that has been reaching out to you, only to be rebuffed, day after day? Is your "low-battery" light on, having been ignored for some time? If you answered "yes" to either one of those questions, hopefully you will get lucky today, and either make or find some "self" time.
You, too, need the "gift" of time.
Ancora imparo
Have you ever been given the gift of time? Those kinds of days come few and far between, don't they?
I can remember when I was teaching, there would be rare occasions when a certain grade level could have a sudden change of plans for the day, or would have an pre-planned activity, precluding me from working with those children, but the resultant effect could be an open twenty to forty "bare" minutes for me. Again, this was very rare, but when it did occur, you would have thought I had been given a month's worth of extra time, the way I tore around, grabbing this and that, running here and there, usually heading for the office work room, hoping the copy machine was available or turning into the phone room, trying to return parental phone calls.
I have decided to use today's "extra" time to recharge my battery, first by getting in my yoga workout, which I thought would be a casualty of this day, and, secondly, reading a magazine that has been sitting patiently at the edge of my desk, calling to me, saying "Open me now!" Well, this is the day that the magazine's call-out will be acknowledged and acted upon.
Stop and listen for a moment or two, if you are able. Do you have a book, magazine or relaxing activity that has been reaching out to you, only to be rebuffed, day after day? Is your "low-battery" light on, having been ignored for some time? If you answered "yes" to either one of those questions, hopefully you will get lucky today, and either make or find some "self" time.
You, too, need the "gift" of time.
Ancora imparo
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Music Therapy
Music Therapy is an occupation that came into its own in the late 1960's and 1970's. A good college friend, Judy, majored in Music Therapy, doing her internship at a Veteran's Administration hospital in California. Judy was one of the few students I knew who majored in M.T., even though, at the time, Michigan State University had a fully-accredited Music Therapy degree within the Music Department. "Back then", at least at M.S.U., it was not a widely-populated major, drawing small numbers compared to the other Music Department majors.
During my first term, as a Freshman at M.S.U., my advisor did his best to steer me away from my declared major of Instrumental Music Education and towards a degree in Music Therapy. You see, "back then", female band directors were not the norm. Female students were seen more as choral majors, any kind of applied major (i.e. performance), or Music Therapy majors.......anything but band directing. I, however, was determined, and (diplomatically....I hope) ignored my advisor's advising.
Over the years, I've come to more fully appreciate the curriculum of Music Therapy, and the powerful influence it can have on those affected by either physical, mental, or emotional disabilities. I have seen, first-hand, its ability to soothe, motivate and even heal. After reading several books on the subject and attending workshops on how to weave Music Therapy structure into the bandroom, I found it to be a highly effective additive to my classroom instruction.
On a personal level, I've experienced the positive effects of music on an almost daily basis.....and this morning was no exception. My day wasn't off to a bad start - far from it - I was feeling just a little off-kilter.....which some would say is the norm for me. Once in the car, I turned on the radio to the public, classical station that I support, and found an almost immediate calming veil surround me. Not too long into my travels, I heard one of my all-time favorite pieces to both perform and listen to - Richard Wagner's "Overture" to the opera "Rienzi". It is at once, restful and almost bombastic, perfect for restoring one's zen and energy simultaneously. That was followed, shortly, by a series of Brahms piano works, and, if you are not familiar with Johannes Brahms' music, you need to be. I'll go out on a limb and state that Brahms wrote only exquisite music, with every note bringing one's soul a little closer to musical heaven.
So it is with music, whether it is rock, soul, classical, operatic.....any genre. It restoreth the soul. It did mine today and it can yours, too. Try it.
Ancora imparo
During my first term, as a Freshman at M.S.U., my advisor did his best to steer me away from my declared major of Instrumental Music Education and towards a degree in Music Therapy. You see, "back then", female band directors were not the norm. Female students were seen more as choral majors, any kind of applied major (i.e. performance), or Music Therapy majors.......anything but band directing. I, however, was determined, and (diplomatically....I hope) ignored my advisor's advising.
Over the years, I've come to more fully appreciate the curriculum of Music Therapy, and the powerful influence it can have on those affected by either physical, mental, or emotional disabilities. I have seen, first-hand, its ability to soothe, motivate and even heal. After reading several books on the subject and attending workshops on how to weave Music Therapy structure into the bandroom, I found it to be a highly effective additive to my classroom instruction.
On a personal level, I've experienced the positive effects of music on an almost daily basis.....and this morning was no exception. My day wasn't off to a bad start - far from it - I was feeling just a little off-kilter.....which some would say is the norm for me. Once in the car, I turned on the radio to the public, classical station that I support, and found an almost immediate calming veil surround me. Not too long into my travels, I heard one of my all-time favorite pieces to both perform and listen to - Richard Wagner's "Overture" to the opera "Rienzi". It is at once, restful and almost bombastic, perfect for restoring one's zen and energy simultaneously. That was followed, shortly, by a series of Brahms piano works, and, if you are not familiar with Johannes Brahms' music, you need to be. I'll go out on a limb and state that Brahms wrote only exquisite music, with every note bringing one's soul a little closer to musical heaven.
So it is with music, whether it is rock, soul, classical, operatic.....any genre. It restoreth the soul. It did mine today and it can yours, too. Try it.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Night Research and Fact-Fishing
Ever notice how the mind does crazy, even weird things?
A few nights ago, I know I lost a lot of sleep trying to dig back into my past from thirty-some years ago when Capt. SO and I lived in a different state. This was BK (before kids), although I'm not certain why that fact is pertinent to the gist of this posting?????? I kept trying to remember the names of the members of a family who lived across from the church we attended. The father sang in the choir I directed - a funny and friendly fellow who kept all choir members in constant stitches throughout all rehearsals. I became friends with his eldest - a woman, and, subsequently, came to be a part of a "coffee group" that met on a regular basis, alternating weekly at each others' homes. Except for me, all of the other women had children.....again, why that particular fact is germane remains a mystery to me, but at the time of my sleep-loss night, it was very important. My mind worked feverishly to recall as many details as possible, including the interior of the homes we met in, the detail of the other women's faces, their husbands' names and occupation, even the bread/muffin recipes we shared and ate. When the morning sun arose, I realized I was successful in roaming through the filing cabinet of my mind....at the expense of a great deal of sleep.
I remain fascinated by the road my mind took that night and, perhaps more importantly, why. Why did my subconscious grab onto to a person - the man in my old choir - and then continue to pursue every fact I could reprise? Try hard as I might, throughout that night, I could not deter mind away from the pursuit of old factoids. I tried counting backwards from one hundred - to no avail. Then I decided to try counting backward from two hundred, but that was too long and I'd lose my place, only to have my mind return to what I now think of as fact-fishing. I attempted to envision white, plump sheep jumping over a fence in an idyllic country setting - to no avail.
Perhaps my mind is telling me it needs new food. Maybe a creative class, a rigorous class, a new challenge? Is this my mind's way of letting me know I need to feed it? But, feed it with what? Perhaps all of my fact-fishing was triggered by my recent, and still on-going, Insanity Project? Whatever.......as teens - and some adults - would whine, the result was and is the same. Fact-fishing, particularly at night, results in one tired and grumpy person, who gets out of bed in a fog, genuinely confused as to why she needed to mental research in the night.
It is three days since my night-research foray and I'm still feeling its effects. I think that strong coffee could be in order. Oh, please, Capt. SO, start the grind-and-brew!
Ancora imparo
A few nights ago, I know I lost a lot of sleep trying to dig back into my past from thirty-some years ago when Capt. SO and I lived in a different state. This was BK (before kids), although I'm not certain why that fact is pertinent to the gist of this posting?????? I kept trying to remember the names of the members of a family who lived across from the church we attended. The father sang in the choir I directed - a funny and friendly fellow who kept all choir members in constant stitches throughout all rehearsals. I became friends with his eldest - a woman, and, subsequently, came to be a part of a "coffee group" that met on a regular basis, alternating weekly at each others' homes. Except for me, all of the other women had children.....again, why that particular fact is germane remains a mystery to me, but at the time of my sleep-loss night, it was very important. My mind worked feverishly to recall as many details as possible, including the interior of the homes we met in, the detail of the other women's faces, their husbands' names and occupation, even the bread/muffin recipes we shared and ate. When the morning sun arose, I realized I was successful in roaming through the filing cabinet of my mind....at the expense of a great deal of sleep.
I remain fascinated by the road my mind took that night and, perhaps more importantly, why. Why did my subconscious grab onto to a person - the man in my old choir - and then continue to pursue every fact I could reprise? Try hard as I might, throughout that night, I could not deter mind away from the pursuit of old factoids. I tried counting backwards from one hundred - to no avail. Then I decided to try counting backward from two hundred, but that was too long and I'd lose my place, only to have my mind return to what I now think of as fact-fishing. I attempted to envision white, plump sheep jumping over a fence in an idyllic country setting - to no avail.
Perhaps my mind is telling me it needs new food. Maybe a creative class, a rigorous class, a new challenge? Is this my mind's way of letting me know I need to feed it? But, feed it with what? Perhaps all of my fact-fishing was triggered by my recent, and still on-going, Insanity Project? Whatever.......as teens - and some adults - would whine, the result was and is the same. Fact-fishing, particularly at night, results in one tired and grumpy person, who gets out of bed in a fog, genuinely confused as to why she needed to mental research in the night.
It is three days since my night-research foray and I'm still feeling its effects. I think that strong coffee could be in order. Oh, please, Capt. SO, start the grind-and-brew!
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Find, Feed, Fix
Did you hear the news today? People with cardiac disease and larger amounts of belly fat are more likely to die. Well, that is earth-shattering news to me! Who knew?
Obviously, my opening paragraph is tongue-in-cheek, laden with sarcasm. These studies that get funded - by our tax dollars as a rule - the outcomes of which make a person want to slap up another person along side the head, just like on NCIS, never cease to amaze, daze and confuse me. There is seldom a shortage of media coverage regarding inane studies with topics such as smoking is detrimental to your health, falling from an airplane may cause broken bones, eating tuna seven days a week - three times a day - may result in higher levels of mercury in the body, stepping in front of a bullet can be risky, etc.
Who authorizes the funding for these studies? Backing up one level, who thinks up the study-topic in the first place? It is almost as if an outcome is researched first.....such as "being sedentary leads to higher weight" and then a study cause-and-effect is designed to fit the outcome. For instance, to prove that being sedentary leads to higher weight, subjects - perhaps tweens - are sought to spend hours a day playing video games or watching television. These children may, or may not, already be overweight. Those that are overweight at the beginning of the study continue to be overweight and those that were not overweight may gain weight but the results confound the researchers, who become so excited about the obvious outcome that the details get published and we all say, "Well, who knew?"
At times, the obvious is just that, yet billions of funding dollars are wasted on studies that consume hard-earned American cash, time and energy that could, instead, be diverted on finding cures, feeding the hungry, or fixing the educational morass our country finds itself in.
Here are some suggestions for studies: Does better education result in more personal success?; Does providing basic necessities - such as food, shelter and water - result in increased well-being?
Ancora imparo
Obviously, my opening paragraph is tongue-in-cheek, laden with sarcasm. These studies that get funded - by our tax dollars as a rule - the outcomes of which make a person want to slap up another person along side the head, just like on NCIS, never cease to amaze, daze and confuse me. There is seldom a shortage of media coverage regarding inane studies with topics such as smoking is detrimental to your health, falling from an airplane may cause broken bones, eating tuna seven days a week - three times a day - may result in higher levels of mercury in the body, stepping in front of a bullet can be risky, etc.
Who authorizes the funding for these studies? Backing up one level, who thinks up the study-topic in the first place? It is almost as if an outcome is researched first.....such as "being sedentary leads to higher weight" and then a study cause-and-effect is designed to fit the outcome. For instance, to prove that being sedentary leads to higher weight, subjects - perhaps tweens - are sought to spend hours a day playing video games or watching television. These children may, or may not, already be overweight. Those that are overweight at the beginning of the study continue to be overweight and those that were not overweight may gain weight but the results confound the researchers, who become so excited about the obvious outcome that the details get published and we all say, "Well, who knew?"
At times, the obvious is just that, yet billions of funding dollars are wasted on studies that consume hard-earned American cash, time and energy that could, instead, be diverted on finding cures, feeding the hungry, or fixing the educational morass our country finds itself in.
Here are some suggestions for studies: Does better education result in more personal success?; Does providing basic necessities - such as food, shelter and water - result in increased well-being?
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 2, 2011
Bucket Level: High, Low, or Empty
When I think of the word, "bucket", I first think of the movie, "The Bucket List", which I have referred to multiple times in Ancora imparo. I love the idea of a "bucket list", have made my own, and am working toward acting on the items on my list.
With spring chronologically and realistically here, the golfers are out in full force. I drive past a golf course on a regular basis and can see the driving range area of the golf course, where golfers are always lined up with their buckets of balls, practicing their swings.
Another bucket association comes from Kentucky Fried Chicken, or KFC, as it is now known. Having been the recipient of a chicken bucket or two over the years, I can attest to the crispy coating, the moist meat and the uber-fat content of the product. I have noticed that, at potluck dinners, the KFC bucket is almost always the first to empty.
My father-in-law lives on a farm, owns many pieces of agricultural equipment, among them, tractors with front-end loaders, complete with buckets, which he uses from time to time.....not always in the most logical of fashions.....for his age. A nonagenarian, his mind still tells him that he is a young, strapping and frisky young man - as compared to his body which may be able to but should not. These front-end buckets are both a blessing and a curse.
There is the series of "trust" bucket drawings that financial advisors use to demonstrate how one bucket of money flows from one trust to another. If you have never seen this series of drawings, try to have your first experience be with someone who can draw upside down on the paper. Fascinating.
Perhaps the most important types of "buckets" have to do with trust and respect, which are closely tied together. Every relationship, whether personal or professional, begins with full buckets of trust and respect. Ideally, these buckets remain full, but some individuals are not capable of maintaining full buckets, and, little by little, erode the contents of their buckets to low or empty. Try hard as I might, I find it almost impossible to overlook a low or empty bucket because the process of lowering the contents has quite possibly resulted in me experiencing the same type of negative interaction with said person or persons over and over and over and over.........
Here's to full buckets....of any kind.
Ancora imparo
With spring chronologically and realistically here, the golfers are out in full force. I drive past a golf course on a regular basis and can see the driving range area of the golf course, where golfers are always lined up with their buckets of balls, practicing their swings.
Another bucket association comes from Kentucky Fried Chicken, or KFC, as it is now known. Having been the recipient of a chicken bucket or two over the years, I can attest to the crispy coating, the moist meat and the uber-fat content of the product. I have noticed that, at potluck dinners, the KFC bucket is almost always the first to empty.
My father-in-law lives on a farm, owns many pieces of agricultural equipment, among them, tractors with front-end loaders, complete with buckets, which he uses from time to time.....not always in the most logical of fashions.....for his age. A nonagenarian, his mind still tells him that he is a young, strapping and frisky young man - as compared to his body which may be able to but should not. These front-end buckets are both a blessing and a curse.
There is the series of "trust" bucket drawings that financial advisors use to demonstrate how one bucket of money flows from one trust to another. If you have never seen this series of drawings, try to have your first experience be with someone who can draw upside down on the paper. Fascinating.
Perhaps the most important types of "buckets" have to do with trust and respect, which are closely tied together. Every relationship, whether personal or professional, begins with full buckets of trust and respect. Ideally, these buckets remain full, but some individuals are not capable of maintaining full buckets, and, little by little, erode the contents of their buckets to low or empty. Try hard as I might, I find it almost impossible to overlook a low or empty bucket because the process of lowering the contents has quite possibly resulted in me experiencing the same type of negative interaction with said person or persons over and over and over and over.........
Here's to full buckets....of any kind.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Second Day
Another posting installment from my pastor's Easter sermon.
He talked about "the second day" in relation to Christendom's holy season of Lent and Easter, where Christians observe day one as Good Friday, where Christ was crucified, day two where Christ died and day three - Easter - where Christ arose from the grave. His sermon came from the perspective of "Day Two", which he believes is always the toughest day after a life-event of some or great magnitude. His examples of "Day Two" were the day after the funeral, the day after a spouse or significant other walks out, the day after the divorce is final, the day after losing a job...... Even - going from the sublime to the ridiculous - The Royal Wedding can be an example of Day Two. Prince William and Princess Kate are in "Day Two", where, in the absence of pomp and circumstance, reality is a bit closer.
"Day Two" doesn't even have to be associated with grief and tragedy. It can be associated with any life-changing occurrence, such as getting engaged, having a baby, saying "yes" to a job offer, starting a new job.....any of these options can bring the thought of "what have I got myself into"?
Then my pastor asked a rhetorical question and a follow-up question, which I have not forgotten and have given some thought to: "Do you live your life as if you are stuck in Day Two"? and, "Have you moved on to Day Three?" It was the question about ever allowing myself to move on to Day Three that really made me sit up and salute. His "Day Three" perspective was about getting to a place where we celebrate life, where we allow ourselves to experience sheer joy and where we release ourselves from the bonds and fetters of being a slave to Day Two.
I don't think moving to Day Three is easy and I certainly do not believe that staying and living in Day Three is possible for the great majority of mankind. Are we humans pre-programmed to expect "gloom, despair and angony - all three" (yet another reference to the "Hee-Haw" television show) rather than being programmed to believe in our right to experience joy and happiness?
My humanity gets in my way. On a daily basis I can move from Day One to Day Two to Day Three, sometimes all in a matter of minutes.....forget the daily part. I do have antidotes, though, to help get me to Day Three and regular readers know what those antidotes are: The Three Musketeers, a dog, a good cup of coffee, and chocolate. I've had three out of four recently. Mother's Day is coming. I think Capt. SO should work on helping all four become a reality, don't you?
Ancora imparo
He talked about "the second day" in relation to Christendom's holy season of Lent and Easter, where Christians observe day one as Good Friday, where Christ was crucified, day two where Christ died and day three - Easter - where Christ arose from the grave. His sermon came from the perspective of "Day Two", which he believes is always the toughest day after a life-event of some or great magnitude. His examples of "Day Two" were the day after the funeral, the day after a spouse or significant other walks out, the day after the divorce is final, the day after losing a job...... Even - going from the sublime to the ridiculous - The Royal Wedding can be an example of Day Two. Prince William and Princess Kate are in "Day Two", where, in the absence of pomp and circumstance, reality is a bit closer.
"Day Two" doesn't even have to be associated with grief and tragedy. It can be associated with any life-changing occurrence, such as getting engaged, having a baby, saying "yes" to a job offer, starting a new job.....any of these options can bring the thought of "what have I got myself into"?
Then my pastor asked a rhetorical question and a follow-up question, which I have not forgotten and have given some thought to: "Do you live your life as if you are stuck in Day Two"? and, "Have you moved on to Day Three?" It was the question about ever allowing myself to move on to Day Three that really made me sit up and salute. His "Day Three" perspective was about getting to a place where we celebrate life, where we allow ourselves to experience sheer joy and where we release ourselves from the bonds and fetters of being a slave to Day Two.
I don't think moving to Day Three is easy and I certainly do not believe that staying and living in Day Three is possible for the great majority of mankind. Are we humans pre-programmed to expect "gloom, despair and angony - all three" (yet another reference to the "Hee-Haw" television show) rather than being programmed to believe in our right to experience joy and happiness?
My humanity gets in my way. On a daily basis I can move from Day One to Day Two to Day Three, sometimes all in a matter of minutes.....forget the daily part. I do have antidotes, though, to help get me to Day Three and regular readers know what those antidotes are: The Three Musketeers, a dog, a good cup of coffee, and chocolate. I've had three out of four recently. Mother's Day is coming. I think Capt. SO should work on helping all four become a reality, don't you?
Ancora imparo
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