Stay Tuned!

Tomorrow's topic will be South Carolina. . .we are not idiots contrary to popular belief. . .if you have an opinion, please comment and I will try to address it in tomorrow's blog.

Thanks for stopping in.

"Haunting" Memories

It's Hallowed Eve eve. Ooohhhh ha ha. Ghosts and goblins; pumpkins and apples; candy and costumes; tricks and treats.

Earlier darkness falls upon the cooler, crisper evening. Fall leaves crunch below your feet as you wander the streets and alleys knocking on doors of strangers demanding payment of food for their freedom from pranks.

We send our children out into the darkness, in disguise, to collect sugar laden treats that will keep them up into the wee hours of the morning. Who came up with this idea?

Halloween has its origins in the ancient Celtic festival of Sahmahin. The festival of Samhain celebrated the end of the "lighter half" of the year and the beginning of the "darker half" of the year. The Celts believed that this seasonal change thinned the border between this world and that of the Otherworld; allowing spirits, both good and bad, to pass easily from one to another. To avoid the "evil" spirits that might present themselves, people took to dressing as these spirits to avoid harm and scare them off.

As it was also time for the harvest, the Celts would take stock of food and livestock to store for winter. Thus, the search for "treats".

Halloween, clad in its colors of orange and black, costumes and disguises, has many traditional symbols: bonfires, Jack O'Lanterns, and candy apples.

The bonfires provided a symbolism of cleansing. The bones of the slaughtered livestock were tossed into the "bonefires". The hearth fires of the homes were extinguished and relit from the flames of the communal fire; providing a continuity for the approaching winter. In some of the clans, two bonfires were built side by side and the people and their livestock would pass through as a cleansing ritual.

The Jack O'Lantern actually began as a turnip. It became a pumpkin only in North America where the pumpkin was more abundant in late October (and easier to carve) than the turnip or rutabaga. The Irish legend goes that there lived a greedy, gambling, hard drinking farmer named Stingy Jack. Jack tricked the devil into climbing into a tree and then trapped him there by carving a cross on the tree. The devil took his revenge by cursing Jack to wander the earth forever, at night, with only a light in his head.

Candy apples and bobbing for apples were also part of the evolution of Halloween in North America. The festival came in the wake of the apple harvest. And the candied part was a result of the nuts and syrup also collected at this time of year.

Growing up in South Florida, my Halloween memories don't include those crisp, cooler evenings. More often than not, it was damp, rainy evening. I remember perspiring under the masks and had them off early in the search for treats. I remember being a sailor girl, a princess, a witch and a hobo. Mother didn't use too much of her creativity in developing my Halloween persona. I believe that came because I was the youngest of the six kids she raised.

As an adult, I have taken the guise of Cruella D'Ville, a very wicked witch who smoked a cigar, Ginger from Gilligan's Island, Morticia from the Adams' Family and Tina Turner (most people thought I was Ron Wood in drag). I love the thought of developing a unique costume; I just don't seem to get around to it in time for Halloween.

It's like all the other holidays. . .it just sneaks up on me.

Happy Hauntings and be safe out there.

866 American Lives Lost

It is said that in peace, children bury their parents; in war, parents bury their children.

American deaths and Afghanistan have weighed heavily on my mind these past few days. Claims of the "deadliest month" has become a repetitive headline; each month. There have been 866 American lives lost since the 2001 invasion; 53 deaths in October; and, President Obama met 18 fallen American personnel in a midnight visit to Dover Air Force Base last evening.

In a cold and misty night, the President and his entourage, quietly saluted the return of the flag-draped coffins in what the military calls "a dignified transfer." A Chaplin raises his hands in prayer as the "cases" exit the "precious" cargo plane. It is only recently, that the American public is once again allowed to see the return of these fallen victims of war. The Bush Administration had restricted the media coverage of these "transfers" since the onset of the Iraqi and Afghan invasions. Some say to give privacy to the soldiers' families; others say it was to mask the casualty count that these wars have produced.

I came of age during the war in Viet Nam; or the conflict as it was called. I remember the news coverage each evening of the bloody battles and knew young men that lost their lives in the "conflict." I knew and know many men that live "lost lives" because of that "conflict."

While President Obama has inherited these wars, the pundits proclaim that it will "define his presidency." As he, and his military advisers, ponder the deployment of yet more Americans into Afghanistan, he is being called "overly cautious and indecisive." I am having memories of Lyndon B. Johnson and his decisions to escalate American presence in Southeast Asia; in these lands where a civil war threatened the freedom of many. Viet Nam, sadly, defined the Johnson Administration too.

If we learned nothing else from the Viet Nam tragedy, we should have learned that you can not fight for someone else's freedom. It is not our fight. Freedom is something for which each individual must make a sacrifice. Do we, or can we, really "give" freedom? Do we all share the same definition of "freedom"? We went to the Middle East to search and destroy the Taliban and Bin Laden. We went there for selfish purposes and now claim we are there to protect the freedom of the people.

Whatever happened to good, old fashioned covert operations? If Bin Laden, one man, was our mission, why have we sent so many? Saddam is gone, why are we still there? Are we really there to "root out evil" and "crush injustice" or are we on a proselytizing mission to assimilate western culture into an ancient civilization? Did we not learn from the Crusades?

H.G. Wells said, "If we do not end war, war will end us." It is not my wish for our children.

Post Career Occupation

With the economy and job market in its spiral, not knowing if it's going back up or down, I am rethinking my "retirement plan."

After spending thirty plus years building a career and a bank account, I woke up one morning to find them both gone. Well, not completely; the memory lingers. But the substance of both is fading away. I have spent these many years "living to work". I was my career. I never thought about retirement. I never imagined myself not working; at something. And, the work didn't necessarily mean making money.

I was a "cheap date". My employers really did get more than they were paying for. I know that now and I am perfectly fine with that. I am willing to do the same again, in my retirement.

That's right - retirement. I contend that the "new retirement" is "working to live" and not the other way around. Since I have to keep working through, into and around retirement (until that final retirement we call death), I am going to do something that I love and that I love everyday. It will be a job; not a career; it will be my avocation; it will be fun and fulfilling.

It will be something I can be passionate about while I'm doing it, but not so consuming that I can't leave it at the door. It will be something that will provide me with a steady income, but not bonuses upon bonuses that will keep me tethered to the office. It will be something that gives me repletion, but not something that sucks the life out of me. In my retirement, the company store no longer owns my soul.

Do you know how my friend Webster defines retirement? Being retired: withdrawing from work or business because of advanced age; drawing back from contact with others; being in a place of privacy or seclusion; to withdraw from use. As any "old geezer" would say: poppycock! That was never the plan!


The "retirement plan" included increased time for leisure activities with family and friends; meeting new people; seeing new places; taking up art or music and reading that stack of books. Does that sound like being withdrawn from use? There's work to be done and we have the experience and knowledge to do it.

I am not entering retirement any time soon. I am entering my "post career occupation".

Embrace Your "Freakism"

"Flying the freak flag!" That's what my niece, Veronica, calls it when she reacts (read over-reacts) to a situation. I laugh. I know that the "freak flag" is part of a family tradition.

We are a passionate, opinionated and emotional lot. Chaos follows us. Panic envelops us. Laughter consumes us. We are consummate communicators - we verbalize everything. Those behaviors make some people very uncomfortable. We're sorry, we can't help it; we have learned to embrace our "freakism". And we proudly "fly the freak flag."

We don't think we're freaks at all. We find the humor in our reaction to life's little and huge obstacles alike. We just don't know how to contain the "freakism" before it explodes. Our arms begin waving, our feet may stomp and the words spill from our mouths.

Choruses of "what the hell" and "you got to be f**king kidding me" can be heard quite frequently. Paul Tillich said, "astonishment is the root of philosophy." We're just a bunch of modern day philosophers. We are always astonished by what people say and do, but we are never amazed. We're astonished by what we do and say too. We spend time a lot of time trying to figure it all out. And then, we roll our eyes, throw up our hands and chuckle - maybe we're just a bunch of big freaks?

Can you believe what I said? Did you see what I did? I lost it, didn't I? I'm such a freak! And I come from a long line of freaks.

Freakism is a learned behavior. It is animated and often loud and boisterous. It is raw emotion. When confronted by "freakism", many people view it as anger - sometimes insanity. It is neither. It is a reaction to perceived injustice, prejudice or plain stupidity. It is intolerant to lack of thought and logic.

Methinks we all have a bit of the "freak" within. Some are highly repressed. I suggest that letting the freak out every now and then is healthy and liberating.

Embrace the freak, just don't get it wet or feed it after midnight - remember what happen to the Gremlins.

A Woman's Nation - Divided

The posts over the last couple days addressing the Shriver Report on A Woman's Nation has drawn a number of diverse comments (primarily on my Facebook page). It concerns me, because it is evidence that there is still a huge divide on women's issues; and the divide is between the women.

I'm not sure if the divide centers on women with children and women without children or women with careers and women without careers or single woman and married woman. Both groups on each issue need each other's support. Each of us have made choices in our lives and each of us should address those choices with responsibility and acceptance.

The Women's Movement provided us all with choice. If it wasn't for the movement, many of us would not have had the opportunity to build our careers. Had we made the choice not to marry and not to have children before the movement, we would have been confined to pink collar jobs and low wages; literally eating cat food in our old age.

The Women's Movement sanctioned women with children working out of the home. It gave increased opportunity to single mothers to provide for their children. Mothers, married and single, have every opportunity to pursue education, career and relationships because of the movement. The children are no longer an excuse not to do something.

Some of us may believe that if you choose to have a child, that you should stay home and raise the child. Some women do not have that choice. Some of us believe that woman who pursue careers, without children are selfish. These are the judgements that create the divide.

Do not judge unless you walk in those shoes. We were given choices, but the choice we make are still a result of our personalities and value system. The cornerstone of the foundation of the movement was "acceptance"; acceptance of choices to fulfill our dreams.

Some women raise three children on their own, work full-time, volunteer in their community, go to the gym regularly and spend quality time with family and friends. That full schedule may be too much for other woman. Some women are married with children, stay home and keep house; and that is a full enough schedule for them. Both are right. Both made a choice.

We should not feel the need to make excuses for why we do or don't do more or less in our lives. You answer only to yourself.

We cry for diversity in the workplace, in education and within political policy. Why can't we achieve diversity and acceptance within our own gender? No more excuses. Just know you have choices thanks to many women before you.

A Woman's Nation - Part Deux

A Woman's Nation: the story of my life. I read more of the Shriver Report last night. And then I sent it to all of my nieces and young women friends. Yesterday, I said it was "old news". It is old news to me, but a "must read" for women 45 and younger; and for their fathers, brothers, husbands and sons.

Maria Shriver opens her chapter with great affection and reverence to the achievements of her mother, Eunice Shriver. Eunice was a great role model for many women. It was often said that "had Eunice been a man, she would have been President." Eunice had the "luxury" of being "liberated" and took the responsibility of being a role model very seriously. It was appropriate for Shriver to laud her mother in the opening paragraphs of this report.

One of the driving forces of the report/study undertaking was the sentiment that women did not have "a place to connect". Between the lines, that reads as the lack of "a good ole boy club." I submit that this is true for the fact that in the early days of achieving success, many of us saw each other as the "enemy". Instead of finding our role as successful women, we took the role of "mini-men". We wanted to be accepted as "one of the boys" and believed there was a very finite space for "mini-men" at the table. Maybe that was because we didn't have access to team sports as we grew up; we were trained to compete for the attentions of men and that very much got in our way as we left the confines of our father's and husband's homes.

"They don't speak with one voice and they don't have just ONE issue." Well said.

During John F. Kennedy's presidency, he charted the Commission on the Status of Women. The purpose of the commission was to reveal how the nation could best achieve "practical equality" with men educationally, economically and politically. Practical equality? Practical: dealing realistically and sensibly with everyday activities; that is in practice whether or not in theory, belief, value or law. There was a disguised contempt is that treatise.

In the Commission's final report, released in 1963, Margaret Mead, co-editor, wrote, "The climate of opinion is turning against the idea that homemaking is the only form of feminine achievement." It was no longer practical.

Hence the "battle of the sexes" began. Those of us who were of age in the 70s took to the schools, the workplace and the political forums. We came with a different perspective, with different ideas, but were forced to assimilate into the men's accepted practices. We went undercover, waiting for the time we could truly speak our voice. Nearly fifty years later, we are still seeking "one voice". Can we achieve "one voice" when we have so many issues to address?

The Shriver Report provides findings on TEN issues: economy, government, immigrants, health, education, business, faith, media, men and marriage. All of these issues affect men as well, just in different ways.

Much attention is given to the "sandwich generation". The generation that is finding itself responsible, not only, for the caring of its children, but the the caring and support of aging parents. Look around and you will find that the duties of care taking are more often thrust upon the women. By choice or by necessity, women find themselves attending to the needs of the generations before them and following them; and the men with them. Agreed that there are many men who have stepped up to the plate to assist and provide. However, have you ever attended a caregivers support group? Mostly women.

In the report it says that the battle of the sexes is now "the negotiation between the sexes." That is a huge step and I agree that we do sit down at the table to discuss who will pay what bill, who will take the kids to school, who will address locating an appropriate facility for Mom when the time comes.

However, "we are all a bit disoriented", in this constantly changing landscape - economy, health care, climate change. Hence I return to the comment I made yesterday: these are not just women's issues, these are "people issues".

We are genetically coded to be aware of the "differences" in each other; it is some sort of survival mechanism. Isn't there some"code" we can use to to collectively find one voice? It is not women versus men; it is not black versus white versus brown versus yellow; it is not Christian versus Jew versus Muslim.

For all practical purposes - its us against ourselves. The change to acceptance is within. Can we find the "place on the porch" together?

A Woman's Nation? Part One

Get comfortable, because I believe this is only the first posting in a series to comment on "The Shriver Report - A Woman's Nation." At this point in time I have listened to some of the NBC report and have read the Preface, Executive Summary and Epilogue of the report itself (www.awomansnation.com). I will read the full report tonight. So far I have learned that a woman's life is pretty hectic and often under-rewarded for the work we do. Really?

"When we look back over the 20th century and try to understand what's happened to workers and their families and the challenges they now face, the movement of women out of the home and into paid employment stands out as a unique and powerful transformation." (excerpt from the Preface)

This is not breaking news. I am a feminist and believe I have been since the late sixties. I am a feminist, not because my mother provided me with a role model or encouragement to step out of the box. I am a feminist because my father encouraged me and my brothers "let" me.

I was a feminist when the majority of people believed that I hated men or wanted to be a man. That was never true. I love men but just don't think they "get it". As for a being a man? No, I wanted the same opportunities that the men had.

We hated being told what do to by men. It wasn't that we minded taking care of the home and children; we just wanted to have the option to do something else too. "Too", that's the operative word. We should have dropped that word from our treatise. Because what happened was this: the men said fine, do something else "too", but make sure the kids are still cared for, the house is clean and dinner is still ready when I get home from work. And, we did. Well, some of us did.

We thought we had to prove that we could do a man's job and found that to do that we had to stop doing some of the "women's work" like childbearing. And then if we did forgo childbearing, we were frowned upon; regardless of the reason.

I actually got into a debate with a man about twenty years ago who complained that the price of real estate was a result of birth control. From a logic point of view, the theory "worked". The birth control pill allowed women to delay child birth. By delaying child birth, women entered the work force and were able to focus on upward mobility, thereby increasing their salaries. Married and with a two income household, there was more disposable income to purchase a home. Because of the ability to "get what they want", it drove the prices of real estate up in a competitive market. So you see, it is in fact the "woman's nation" that tanked the market, not the men who run Wall Street. Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaassssseeeeee!!!

But that is how it goes. Blame the victim. I do not say that from a position of feeling disenfranchised. I say that because the political and social policies in this country are stuck in the past; a past that resembles "Father Knows Best" and not the reality of "Roseann".

Even in the current battle for health care reform, women are still feeling the pinch of discrimination: we pay more for health care insurance because of this "pre-existing condition" we have called a reproductive system. We are "sick and tired" because we work full time, take care of kids, aging parents and the home; often in a single status.

If our society would walk the walk of equality and equity and create an enviroment of inclusiveness, this would cease to be a "woman's issue". It is a people issue.

Stayed tuned. . .

eRead this. . .

It is an irony that I am a "power-user" of the Internet and a blogger to boot, yet am leery of the advent of eBook Readers. No, I am not happy about them wanting to take away my leather bindings, dust covers, dog ears and margins for my notes, question marks and exclamation points. Even while reading a novel, I have pen or highlighter in hand. Books are my passion. I have books falling out of every nook and cranny in my home. What do I do with an eBook? Do I buy an eBook shelf?

Is there a place for me to highlight beautiful and profound quotes? How long and how much can I store on this device? Can I go back twenty years later and re-read some of the passages or the whole book if I want? Can I "virtually dog-ear" a page so I can find that quote again easily? What do I do for reference material? Am I just suppose to remember everything I've read?

I am concerned about my eye sight. Can my eyes handle the glare and small type of the tiny screen to make my way through, let's say, War and Peace? What phrase will replace "that book was a real page turner." If I'm not turning the page, what am I doing? Scrolling?

Wait a minute I just want to finish this next screen and then I'll be right with you. That just doesn't sound right. Then again I never thought I'd use the phrase, "I'll friend you." And poking someone was not acceptable.

The tactile experience of reading a book is part of the enjoyment; touching the book, holding the book and if you're lucky, smelling the leather binding. And what of the non-reader? How on earth will they decorate their homes without the look and feel of books? What will happen to the "coffee table book" industry? Surely they are not suggesting I replace my art books with some digital copy?

I have an iPod. I have downloaded some of my most favorite music on that device. It is great. I use it maybe twice a week. I'll use it when I take a walk outdoors or I'll use it when I know I am going to have a long wait at an appointment. Otherwise, I listen to my music on my audio system at home or in the car. At night, I have a CD player in my room to gently lull me to sleep.

I have a PDA. I browse the Internet and check email when I'm away from home. If I have access to a desk top or a laptop, I'm going to use it, not the PDA. Again with the squinting.

The eReader, I suppose, will be convenient for travel and taking your book to the office or the park. But, if I'm home, I want to touch the book and mark up the margins. That's the key: it is a convenience, not a replacement.

I have a small collection of antique books. Some of them are over 150 years old. They smell different, they feel different. There is nothing like reading Shakespeare from a "smelly, old book." It transports you. What will the "me" in 150 years have to give them that same feeling? I know it won't be an eReader. It will be a 300 year old book.

Playing without Privacy

Are you really serious about maintaining your privacy? Really, seriously, taking all the precautions to protect your identity? It's quite the paradox isn't it?

I want anonymity regarding my financial identity, yet, the fact that I am leaving on a two week vacation is posted in my status on Facebook. I wouldn't put a sign out in front of the house indicating that "I'm not home and won't be for two weeks", yet I post it on Facebook? So, you say "they" don't know where you live? Type your name into any search engine and see what pops up. Not only do "they" know where you live, they know what elementary school you went to and what level you have achieved in "YoVille". Social media is outing us on so many levels.

For the last ten+ years, I have worked as a certified privacy professional. Knowing and understanding the concept and legalities of privacy and the impact on target marketing is what I do for a living. I know that putting certain demographic information about myself in cyberspace will open me up to various, unsolicited, contacts. But, I want to "play" with my friends.

I can designate certain contacts as spam; I can opt out of mail, telemarketing and email contacts, but it doesn't stop the targeted solicitations that pop up on the various websites that I use and follow.

Lately, I've been particularly barraged with advertising relating to "dating" for "older, mature" people. There is the "Meet someone new today" ad that I swear has a photo of my great-niece's husband. Meet Elite Singles! Romance a Millionaire! Dating for Mature Singles can be very difficult! 1,000s of Big and Beautiful Singles in your area! 40+ and Single? Find love this Fall! Mature Singles Only because no one should be alone. Find Love Again!

I have been targeted as "an over 40, mature, big person, who is not in love but wants to be." How do I opt out of that? Why they think I'm "big", I'm not sure. Oh wait a minute, they probably know what size clothing I order online since I probably agreed to the terms and conditions of the retailer which stipulated in fine print that they shared certain information about me to third party vendors. They didn't share my credit card number or address, but did share what size, color and style dress I purchased. They know I'm single because I indicate such on my Facebook profile. And, they know I'm over 40 since I put in my birth year to register. They must know that I am beautiful because I got an ad that said I was "an intelligent beauty with invincible spirit." Target marketing is amazing!

The other catch to online privacy is that while you may be agreeing to share your information, you are often times sharing my information as well. Most Platform notices of access will indicate that you are agreeing to allow them to "pull YOUR profile information, photos, FRIEND'S info and any other contact info." You can thank me later for getting all those emails from the pharmaceuticals companies and debt consolidation companies.

Each morning, when I log on, I take the time to go through my spam folder and opting out from unwanted solicitations; if they don't cease, I send an email indicating I am reporting them to the FTC, FCC and Consumer Affairs. I get a number of phishing emails that I forward on to the bank or credit card company for them to do something about. I delete, unopened, all those emails from the "Minister of Finance" in Nigeria and the "lottery administrators" from the UK.

You are only as safe as the precautions you take. Each morning, after my personal hygiene, I perform "cyber-hygiene". If you don't you could get a virus.

Fall Colors in the Kitchen

I love Autumn. The greens and golds and oranges and deep reds. While the trees are beautiful this time of year, I'm actually referring to the vegetables. I love seeing, eating, cooking and smelling the products of the Fall Harvest.

People talk about lighting a fire for the crisp, cool autumn weather and I'm in the kitchen turning on the oven and the stove.

There are the winter squash, pumpkin, rutabagas and turnips, brussel sprouts and sweet potatoes (although I find them all year round). Apples, cranberries, chestnuts and pears. It is time to check my spice closet for plenty of nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, allspice, brown sugar and maple syrup. It's also time to check the clothes closet for drawstring pants.

Roasted turkey and roasted pork with hearty vegetables and smooth sauces; beef stew and slow cooked chili and vegetable soup; pea soup and lentil soup and sweet corn chowder; pumpkin bread and cranberry muffins and apple cinnamon coffee cake.

I have always said that Autumn was my favorite time of the year. And, I wonder why. I grew up in South Florida and only dreamed of being in the cooler climate of the north, surrounded by the changing landscape and the cooler and longer days. I would go to school with the traditional plaid skirts and fall sweaters only to be dripping with perspiration by the end of the day. The smells of autumn were confined to the kitchen. The cooking of the fall harvests provided the warmth and safety of the season.

I have changing landscapes now and I can layer on sweaters as the days cool down. But the real joys of this time of year come out the kitchen in waifing aromas of feasts from days gone by.

There is a turkey breast roasting in the oven; along with a herbed stuffing. Beside the turkey, cooking in a mixture of brown sugar, allspice, walnuts and maple syrup are my first acorn squash of the season. It smells sooooooooo good. Dinner is at 6 PM.

Re-channeling Frustration

How frustrating! I am so frustrated. You frustrate me. Traffic is frustrating. Being interrupted frustrates me.

After a while the word doesn't even look or sound right; that's frustrating. And, the definition starts to confuse me; that's frustrating.

I am one of those people that believe we create, and should own, our emotional responses to the world around us. Frustration is a "reaction" to something. I may react in frustration; but you can frustrate me with your response or in-action to an issue or circumstance. So, it's unlike anger whereby I make myself angry? You do not make me angry. . .I become angry? So you CAN frustrate me?

Webster's definition for frustrate:

" 1a: to balk or defeat in an endeavor b: to induce feelings of discouragement in; 2a: (1) to make ineffectual: bring to nothing (2): impede, obstruct; b: to make invalid or of no effect."

"to check or defeat another's plan or block achievement of a goal; making vain or ineffectual efforts however vigorous or persistent; checking or defeating by discouraging further effort; confusing or puzzling; interposing of obstacles or hindrances."

The origin of the word comes from the Latin "to deceive, in error, in vain." So, you can do something to deceive me and I can do something in vain; all resulting in frustration?

Frustration can restrict us to a an emotional paralysis or can motivate us to overcome the obstacle and forge on with our desired achievement. My frustration can be a result of my internal factors - laziness or lack of effort - or external factors - reduction in corporate spending to support my project.

I typed the word "frustration" as a news headline, into the search engine to find out what are our global "obstacles". I suspected the economy, global warming, health care reform and war. Here are a few of the results:

"Frustration Keeps Rising for Jacobs, Not Giants." a sports story
"Traffic James are Eco-Friendly." something about the level of driver frustration turning them into subway riders.
"Leading Off - Frustration at Fenway." another sports story
"Obama Meets Critics in New Orleans." now, those people in NOLA really have something to be frustrated about.
"Judge Halts Mandatory Flu Vaccines for Health Care Workers." lots of stories about H1N1 came up in the search.
"Zimbabwe Opposition Boycotts Unity Government." using frustration in this context in an understatement.
"Backlogs continue to frustrate progress at the VA." and still to no avail.

The search yielded 10,000+ results.

I submit that we're all frustrated and are wandering around in circles like a bunch of wind up dolls bumping against the walls of a cardboard box. We need to re-channel our energies and push the frustration levels to action and problem solving. I was so frustrated this morning because I was feeling "under the weather". I laid around and whined, then I got up and wrote something. I feel better. Now I need to solve the issues of world peace and global warming. Want to join me?

Experiment in Clarity

Most of us spend our day taking direction from someone for something. We are directed by laws, procedures, guidelines and common sense. Often times we have printed instructions to guide us through a process; other times we have to depend upon our comprehension and memory of someones verbal instruction/direction.

Instructions - immediately I am drawn to the image of my father and brothers trying to put together the Christmas bike or doll carriage. It was bad enough if one of them got hold of the instructions by himself; but to leave the instructions open to interpretation by three tired and frustrated men on Christmas Eve was disaster.

That's the key: interpretation. I have a lot of respect for those people charged with the responsibility of creating instructions for the assembly of "things". The words must be so clear and so concise; and the vocabulary of the most common denominator. Clarity, which can be removed from interpretation, is primary for any instruction. Which right to you mean?

I pride myself in giving very clear driving directions to my house. There is nothing worse than having a guest show up frustrated and frazzled after driving around in the neighborhood for an hour. I have found that landmarks are important. Also, while giving the instructions I make sure I stop intermittently to confirm their understanding. I haven't lost a guest yet.

Verifying and confirming understanding gives you an edge on getting the right message communicated. But what if you can't ask any questions? And you can't point or gesture? In my early days as a communications and marketing trainer, we would use a simple exercise to heighten awareness of clear and concise directions. Let's try it!

Take a blank piece of paper; 8 1/2" X 11" (pull a sheet out from your printer). Lay the sheet horizontally or landscape view on the surface in front of you. You will need two different color pens for this exercise; you may use red and blue, black and blue, black and red or any other combination you choose.

With Color 1 of your choice, draw at the center of the page a circle. The circle should allow white space in about 1/4 of the page to the top, to the bottom and on both sides of the shape.

Take Color 2 and to the right of the circle, as close to the center of the outer circumference and approximately an inch from the circle itself, make a point and label it "A".

From the top of Point "A", draw a line, at an angle upward, cutting through the right side of the circle and coming out of the top, left side of the circle. Draw a similar line, however, angling downward, beginning at the bottom of Point "A", and dissecting the circle on the bottom, left side.

On the right side of the circle, where the line intersects with the circle itself, label the top intersection "B" and the bottom intersection "C".

On the left side of the circle, where the line intersects with the circle itself, label the top intersection "E" and the bottom intersection "D".

We are done. How did you do? How did I do at giving instructions? Oh, you need to see the finished product to compare? Check below the blog achives on the left side of this page to see how your diagram compares with my diagram. I'm interested in hearing about your results.

Clothes Closet Intervention

Dear Clothes Closet:

I am writing you today to ask for your cooperation in locating that really nice pair of gray slacks that I bought a few months ago. I know you have them. I am just not sure why you insist on hiding them.

I have always tried to be good to you. I never use wire hangers and try to be careful in hanging all the dresses together, suits together, shirts together, etc. Most of the shoes have their original boxes. I "feed" you regularly and keep the door closed so the cats don't make their bed upon your floor. I stopped leaving the ironing board up so you would have more space to breathe.

Why do you explode like you do - tossing boxes to the floor and separating a pair of shoes under the racks? When the fresh laundry returns, why do you exhale, forcing me to squeeze the jeans into such a small space? Why won't you keep that suitcase in it's place on the top shelf? Why do you keep fighting me to stay organized?

Where are those new scarfs that I hung so nicely on the wall hooks? I found one buried under worn clothes atop the hamper. It was so wrinkled that I hardly recognized it. Was that nice? And why do you keep hiding my dry cleaning bag? There were some summer clothes in there that I could have used. But not now; now it is fall.

Please help me understand.

Signed, Coralee

Dear Coralee:

I read your post and am deeply hurt by your insinuation that I am in some way "abusing" you. You pop in and out at all hours of the day and night. You try on a pair of shoes and toss them to the floor; always looking for something better. Do you realize how many pairs of black shoes you have? I am amazed that you have never left the house with two different shoes on.

There are pants hanging in the dress section and you haven't returned your black ball gown to it's special place. I'm not even going to mention the pieces of apparel that you can no longer fit into. I do what I can to keep the inventory in line and fresh. You keep shoving more and more items into a finite space. And, what's up with the hats? You keep bringing them in, but I rarely see you wearing one (only to try one on and dance around in your underwear).

We can work this out together. But you must commit to at least one full day to help reorganize. We've been down this road before and I venture to guess we will be here again someday soon.

It's time for an intervention.

Signed, Your Clothes Closet

I am at a graceful age. . .

"She's aging gracefully." What does that mean? She hasn't fallen down and broken a hip? Or, does it simply mean, not fighting the inevitable wrinkling, sagging, aching, cracking and spotting signs of the added years?

I love the one-liners that come with age:

• I'd get a face lift but then it wouldn't match the rest of my body.
• I'm losing my hair and it's growing in places in shouldn't.
• Most of the stuff in my grocery cart says "for fast relief".
• I'm wearing a "cross-my-waist" bra.
• You don't look so old to me; blurry, yes.
• Let's drink to our health. . .plan.
• Never wear a hearing aid - people will expect you to listen to them.
• I've fallen and can't get up!

You know that you've gotten older when your calendar is filled with more doctor appointments than social events. When meeting friends for drinks and dinner, you now show up at 5 PM instead of 8 PM. The conversation starts with what's aching, bowel movements and how much you paid for the cholesterol prescription.

Dining choices are limited to low carb, low sodium, low sugar and low fat; and your bar tab is now one third of what it used to be. You are afraid you will slip and fall on the way to the rest room because you wore a pair of heels that you can't balance yourself in anymore. You ask for a 'to go" box and forget it on the table. People greet you and you have no idea who they are.

What is that extra skin hanging around my neck? And what about those jiggly underarms - what's that about? Recently I was looking at a picture of my sister and I. We both noticed that our chins were identical (a feature we never noticed before). My remark: yes, all FOUR of them are the same! When did that happen?

Really, I'm not complaining about the changes in my body and looks. This body has served me well (and others - get your mind out of the gutter). There's still a lot of energy and life left in the "old gal"; it's just a different look that I have to get comfortable with.

My idea of aging gracefully is three-fold: keeping my sense of humor; dressing age appropriate; and camouflage with cosmetics not surgery (I'm saving my anesthesia points for when I really need them). The problem with the cosmetics is that I don't want to end up looking like Joan Crawford and Bette Davis in "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?" But, the blue eye shadow is back "in", isn't it?

Well, my ibuprofen has kicked in and the facial mask is ready for removal; how's that for graceful!

Shove the Shoulds

I am pensive today. It's not a bad thing, just a little disruptive. Those old "tapes" are playing in my head: "you should do this"; "you should do that"; "you shouldn't go there." Shove the SHOULDS!

That was my mantra for many years - shove the shoulds. Then I realized that I was just giving it lip service. As long as I held my life up to comparison with others I was given in to what "should be". As long as I tried to meet the expectations of others I was given in to what I "should do." Is free will predestined? Am I going about self-exploration as it "should be"? I'm getting a headache.

The concept of self-actualization is based upon becoming what "I am". The rub lies in reconciling what I have been told to believe and what I feel. I feel I need to be emotionally selfish. I feel I need to give myself more attention. I feel I am over-extended in my commitments to others. I feel that those "feelings" are a bad thing. Someone must have told me that.

In the efforts and struggles to become comfortable in our skin, we look to others for example. Those examples are merely suggestions, not blueprint. Those examples are not "shoulds", those examples are possibilities. I must make the choice or I will stagnate and wither. Some of us find answers more quickly than others. Some of our questions are more difficult to answer. Some of us calculate our destiny while others simple "live the day".

I think "living" is good suggestion. Take it as it comes. Play it as it lays. One day at a time. Stop and smell the roses. Do one thing at a time. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. I will be there when I get to where I am going. No where to go and all day to get there. Baby steps. The Power of Now. Perhaps cliches, but scribed for a reason.

In his book, Stillness Speaks, Eckhart Tolle suggests that most people's lives are run by two things: desire and fear. "Desire is the need to add something to yourself in order to be yourself more fully. All fear is the fear of losing something and thereby becoming diminished and being less." To remove desire and fear in our lives we must relinquish judgement - good and bad. It just "is".

Mammy Yokum was right: "I am what I am and I am nos more."

Mushrooms on the Lawn - Fairies in the Garden

For the longest time I have noticed that one of my neighbors had a consistent growth of white mushrooms. Then I started to notice that a few other neighbors had mushrooms sprouting on their lawns. On this very rainy day I'm amazed to see the mushroom population soaring. If there on mushrooms on the lawn, are there fairies in the garden?

The mythical images of mushrooms as the shelter for fairies and gnomes and other garden creatures has always served me well as a magical truth. Mushrooms are mystical as well. . .mythical, magical and mystical.

Reality steps in when we realize that a mushroom is nothing more than the "flower" or "fruit" of an underground fungus. Once it emerges from the ground, spores are released from the gills of the mushroom. The spores are scattered by the wind and are forever present in our landscape. Photo credit: Digital Artist - Anna Ignatieva

Lawn mushrooms are commonly found in "Fairy Rings". That sounds so lovely. And then I realize what causes these fairy rings: old mulch and grass clippings, animal waste and rotting tree stumps. Not so magical anymore.

Some lawn care experts suggest there may also be a drainage problem for the lawn. That makes sense for my neighborhood considering we're on rolling hills and surrounded by a golf course. The manure thing bothers me a bit. How much manure has to be deposited to make mushrooms? I really rather think that it's fairy droppings. I know, too much information.

There are a number of recommendations to rid your yard of fairy rings and lawn mushrooms. Most of them include the use of a fungicide. I am not sure I want to add fungicide to the mix of manure and rotting tree stumps. Such a dilemma.

I have two great suggestions as strategies to combat the mushroom population:

Strategy number one: "I'm growing them on purpose." They provide shelter and comfort to the community of magical creatures tending my garden.

Strategy number two" "What mushrooms?"

Mimosa Sunday

Many moons and mango seasons ago in a kingdom called the Florida Keys a group of laudable salespeople gathered on the lawn of the Casa Marina. They had gone for brunch and stayed for Happy Hour. Little did they know at the time, but they had launched a tradition forever to be called "Mimosa Sunday."

As the crowd of brunchers began to scatter, a handful of people began congregating at a single table. "More champagne!" was the cry. The hotel workers began breaking down tables around them. A few more people pulled up chairs and grabbed a glass. "A little ice, three-thirds champagne and a wee bit of orange juice just for color."

The previous evening had been a blow out. People were dancing and jumping; doing the "gator" on the floor and a conga line that went through the hotel kitchen. "Shout" became the victory song. After the fifteenth time played, the band begged for a break; and hotel guests complained.

Memories of the evening were the topic of conversation around the Mimosa-drinking gathering. As the afternoon went on, others would approach - "you are all still here?" "Pull up a chair." "A little ice, three-thirds champagne and a wee bit of orange juice just for color." People left, but somehow would return. Mimosas and laughter and beautiful Florida sun and sky. . .

Some fast and long friendships were made that afternoon. It was agreed that the gathering would be an official "event" for the following year's meeting. And so it was. The meeting planners were sent to scope out the perfect venue for "Mimosa Sunday." The founders, reluctantly allowed Bloody Mary's. The guest list grew as people begged for a seat at the table.

The tradition survived and spread near and far. It was a glorious, December, Florida day in 1985. And as on most Sundays, accompanied by a Mimosa, the memory is vivid; and I smile.

Remember: a little ice, three-thirds champagne and a wee bit of orange juice just for color.

To Prize or Not to Prize, Whether tis Nobel. . .

Barack Obama, winner of the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize? I like President Obama. I voted for President Obama. Do I think he has yet to accomplish what he has set out to accomplish? No. Do I think he is smart and working hard to achieve the goals of his campaign? Yes. Should he accept the Nobel Peace Prize? No.

I struggle to understand the decision criteria used by the Nobel Foundation to make this award. There does not appear to be any clear qualifications for nomination and presentation. Alfred Nobel's will stated that the Peace Prize should be awarded "to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses." It is accepted that the Peace Prize can be awarded to persons or organizations "that are in the process of resolving a conflict or creating peace."

The announcement of his award stated "only very rarely has a person of the same extent as Obama captured the world's attention and given its people hope for a better future. . .his diplomacy is founded in the concept that those who are to lead the world must do so on the basis of values and attitudes that are shared by the majority of the world's population." Is Obama getting the award because more nations "like America" now? Is it because Obama is a "rock star"? In which case, was Bono nominated?


The scientific and literary Nobel Prizes are usually awarded in retrospect after the achievement has been published, discovered, accomplished; sometimes decades after the accomplishment. The Peace Prize seems to be awarded for more recent or immediate achievements. Again, I struggle to understand the "achievement" for which Obama is being lauded.


Commentary has suggested "that to award a peace prize on the basis of unquantifiable contemporary opinion is unjust or possibly erroneous, especially as many of the judges cannot themselves be said to be impartial observers." A nomination requires "only support from one qualified person." The description of qualified nominators is broad, and detailed in the statutes of the Nobel Foundation.

We are engaged in war on two fronts; we have been "outed" for tortuous and inhuman treatment of prisoners; we just "bombed" the moon. I am not feeling the "love".

I have no suggestion for a more deserving candidate for the Prize. Let's remember that Ghandi was never awarded the Peace Prize and the year after his death, no Peace Prize was awarded. It was announced that "no living person met the qualifications for award."

Should Arizona State University have awarded Barack Obama an honorary degree? Yes. Should the Nobel Foundation award Barack Obama the Peace Prize? No.

Sorry Mr. President, I love ya, but think you have to pass the test before you get to go to the prom.

The Black and White of Color

Sunshine, daises, lemon drops and gold. Daffodils, bananas, scrambled eggs and smiley faces. Tainted yellow, yellow jaundice, yellowing pages and yellow journalism. Even with color, we chose sides. My yellow is sunshine; yours is disease. Your yellow is gold; mine is caution.



I can "paint the town red" and "see red" in anger. Red to "stop" and alarm; the red-light district; lady in red; red flags. If I'm blue, you try to cheer me up; but if I'm in a blue room, I'm calm and peaceful. I saw a "blue" film - was it sad or erotic? I can be "green with envy" or gone green for the environment; I got the green light to proceed. You can be "in the pink" or have "pink eye". There are gray skies and the issue is gray when you see both sides.



Color: colors our speech; colors our art; colors our point of view. Do you live in a red state or a blue state? About 80% of the information we assimilate through sense, is visual. Color is objective in form and subjective in its affect on individual mood.

The presentation of color can convey many diverse meanings. Shades and variations of color can provide the opposite effect; dark blue is powerful, while sky blue is soft and ethereal. The quantity and placement of a color can deliver powerful symbolism. And color combinations can take on new meanings.

We live in a color-drenched world. Some research speculates that the human eye can distinguish more than one million colors. The communicative properties of color can be defined through natural associations and psychological or cultural symbolism.

Occurrences of color in nature are universal. Green is the color of vegetation; that is accepted. However, color often generates another level of meaning. The symbolism of color comes from cultural context and has no relation to the natural association; hence green is associated with greed, money and seasickness.

The range, of sometimes contradictory, psychological and cultural meanings of color arise from an array of sources. There are the cultural associations representing traditions, celebrations and geography: red and green are the colors of Christmas.

Perceptions of color as either good or bad can be based upon political and historical associations, as in the color of flags, political parties or royalty; red is the color of communism.

Color is also associated with spiritual or magical beliefs; Lent is represented by purple in the Christian world; green, a symbol of heaven for the Muslims and a symbol of fertility to the ancient Celts.

While we try so hard to distinguish black and white, we need to step back and realize that there are a million shades of black and white in the spectrum. Color me "searching".

Vision in Black

The door opened slowly. He wasn't expecting to see her there; it wasn't her place. His face turned a pinkish hue. She smiled, "I'm glad you're here, I can't get zipped up."

Hugging her pale skin was the blackest of black material. He pulled the zipper up her back, surrounded by the softness of velvet. She stepped back to reveal the full picture. "How do I look?"

The black velvet drew up around her neck in a proper way. But how it caressed her upper body was not so proper. The sleeves were long on her slender arms and came to a point just atop her hands; revealing her long, ring-adorned fingers.

At her hips, the velvet gave way to yards of black lace, swaying gently atop a slip of black silk. As she walked, the lace skirt skimmed above the floor. Her toe nails were ablaze in the reddest of red polish. Black straps of velvet cris-crossed her white feet that stood upon a three inch heel. She spun around to reveal herself in a full length mirror.

Above her left breast, she wore a cluster of rhinestones. She adjusted the direction of the broach and touched the matching chandelier earrings. In the process she moved the net veiling from her eyes to re-touch her make-up. The net fell just below her eyes barely touching her nose. With her blond hair swept up, atop her head was a small triangular hat adorned with rhinestones. It sat almost magically in mid-air while a few stray curls dropped along her face and the nape of her neck.

He swallowed and took a deep breath. She handed him the documents he had come to pick up. She reached for her purse and keys and they left the house together. Tonight would not be their night together; but, the opportunity would come again.

I loved that dress.

De-constructing the Grocery Shopping List

Growing up, Mom and Dad were always feeding an "army" of people; and, so there were numerous trips to the grocery store. Mom would say that we need this and that and Dad would say write a list. Mom would say "you need to go to the grocery store" and Dad would say "where's the list". When we got to the grocery store we would all say "who has the list?"

The "list": the plan; the map. Over the years I have discovered that there is an art to constructing the most efficient shopping list. Not only do you need to know what you need from the store, but you need to know where you can find it in the store. Hence, you need to know which store you are going to before preparing the list.

I have tried keeping a list of items as I run out. That list is posted on the fridge and has no particular order. I've tried shopping with that random list, but I have found that I invariably forget something and I wander the store aimlessly with no route to follow. And then I buy things I already have (I now have five bottles of barbecue sauce) or really don't need (cookies and ice cream).

My mission is to create a list with items in the order of the store aisles themselves. I take the random list from the fridge and begin transferring those items onto "the list" as I maintain a mental image of the store's layout.

In the upper left corner of the page I note the produce I need. Off to the right I jot down the bakery items. They moved the bakery on me a couple years back and I keep forgetting to start with those items. And, oh yes, the cheeses are in the front of the store by the deli.

The bottom left corner is reserved for soft drinks, water and snacks. The upper right corner lists the dairy products and juices. Meats follow produce and then pantyhose. While in the soup aisle I remember that the organic broths are now in the new organic section back over by the produce and bakery. I'll go back that way after I make a full swing through the store.

Then we need condiments and marinades and pickles and olives followed by toilet paper and plastic storage bags. I don't need cereal today so I will skip that aisle. I'm in the pasta section before I realize I need to go back to the cereal aisle to get coffee and tea and biscotti.

I know the store stopped carrying the cranberry preserves that I like, but just in case I make my way up that aisle just to stare blankly at the shelves and ask myself once again: why did they stop carrying those preserves?

As I turn the aisle filled with cleaning solutions I note that they have moved things around and rearranged the shelving. It's now a double wide aisle full of seasonal products and the cleaning solutions are now divided into two separate "half-aisles". Do I go left? Do I go right? Why is Halloween candy in the same section as Clorox and Glade Air Freshener? Hmmm, candy. . .

Straight ahead I see the milk; back on track. Milk, yogurt, sour cream, orange juice, cheese. . .Wait, didn't I just get cheese? I need more. Eggs, cream cheese, margarine. (Oh, don't forget to circle back and pick up the Lipitor prescription.)

Then I realize - I haven't checked the list. I stand there with the list in hand and eye my cart and the list. Not bad, so far so good. It looks like I missed petite diced tomatoes; I'll circle back. I return the list to the side pocket of my purse and find the coupons. Of course, I have coupons. Now I realize that I've selected the wrong brands and need to retrace my steps to get the discounts. On the way back to the condiment aisle I see a bin of videos - 2 for $10 - let's have a look.

I get in line for check out. Unload my groceries, hand the cashier my shopper discount card and the coupons. I swipe my debit card and I'm on my way home.

As I unload the groceries I realize that I forgot the Lipitor, the coffee, the petite diced tomatoes and I have four packages of cheese.

I start a new list on the fridge. It is back to the drawing board for me; I am still in search of the most efficient grocery shopping list. Any suggestions?

Your Karma is Interferring with my Qi

Remember the second "Ghostbusters'" film? The one where the river of pink slime ran through the underground tunnels of New York City? The pink slime that emitted bad vibes, bad karma, bad Qi (Chi)? Remember how contagious that dark mood became? Well, I think it was in the grocery store last night.

I had to run up for a few items and to pick up a prescription. I could feel that something was unsettled when I parked the car. It wasn't yet nightfall, but there was a darkness over the store; perhaps it was the pending rain that eventually came our way. I didn't find a single smile in the store. I found frustration, impatience, anger and even despair as one young man approached me for a few dollars. There was a sadness and it stuck to me.

When I got home, my sister asked me what was wrong. It was apparent. My energy was zapped while picking up some milk, fruit and muffins. I retreated to my space to recover. The negative energy had drained me. After an hour of breathing and and re-focusing, I was re-centered.

I began contemplating the concepts of Qi (Chi) and karma. Did everyone in there have bad karma? Or did one person have bad karma that infiltrated the Qi?

Qi (Chi) is translated literally as "air" or "breath". It is the "energy flow"; the force. Karma is the law of moral causation; literally: action or doing. It is believed that the differences in our lives is a product of past lives - previous actions - creating accumulated karmic tendencies. Any kind of intentional action - thought, word or deed - is regarded as karma. Is karma and Qi a philosophical/theological paradox like the "chicken or the egg"?

If Qi (Chi) is the life breath that animates all living beings, does it arise from matter or does matter arise from Qi (Chi)?

I believe that we function as "one". Your actions and thoughts affect me. Mine, affect you. We are connected. We cannot escape that connection. That, I believe is the "Plan".

It began raining late last night. It is still raining; a steady, hard rain. The rain was needed to cleanse the Qi (Chi). I feel much better.

May the force be with you.

Happy Birthday Alexis - WOW!

Twenty-three years ago, today, I was lucky enough to participate in the miracle of life. Not having had children myself, this memory becomes more and more precious to me. And as the years pass I still remember so many of the details of that day.

My dear friend Robin made a decision to become a single parent. I was supportive of her decision and in the process, she rewarded me with the designation of "labor coach." I was thrilled. I took my position very seriously, attended all of the birthing classes, made lots of notes in my workbook and readied myself for the day.

After a late-night, false alarm we decided that I should just stay at Robin's until the baby was born. So, I packed up some clothes and moved in for the countdown. I was working and was in my second year of graduate school. Robin gave me a "beeper" so I could be on alert. I carried a change purse of quarters. Yes, it was a time when cell phones were not so common place (and the ones that were available were the size of a shoe box).

It was a Friday and I was spending the day in classes. We knew the time was close. On my first break I tried to call the apartment. No answer. I went back into class and commented to my friend that Robin hadn't answered. Perhaps she was in the shower; perhaps she had gone for a walk. I tried again at the next break. No answer. I made my classmate beep me to make sure the beeper was working. At lunch time I called again. No answer. I called the doctor's office to see if they heard from her. Yes. Robin was on her way to the hospital with her mother. It's "SHOWTIME!"

I packed up my books and headed to the hospital. When I got there Robin had her good-natured smile on her face and laughed out "I guess I'm going have a baby." I held up my workbook and said "I'm ready to coach". And so it began.

As I consulted the pages of my "how to birth a baby" book, Robin went in and out of contractions. We sat up, we sat in the rocking chair, we watched a soap opera, we went to the bathroom, we ate enough ice chips to sink the Titanic. The TV programming turned to the six o'clock news. Doctor Hanft hadn't arrived yet. There was still time. The contractions started getting closer and more intense. I could see from the window that rush hour traffic was in full swing; how is the doctor going to get here in time? Robin started asking the question, "where the hell is he?" Back in the bathroom; back to the rocking chair; back to the bed.

"I want drugs NOW!" "Sorry, it's too late, you're going to have do without." "I need to go to the bathroom." "No, you're going to have the baby - Nurse, oh Nurse, I think we have lift-off!"

Sure enough, the time had arrived. The nurse threw some scrubs at me and said it's time to change. Now, not really thinking ahead, I had shown up to the hospital in a rather lovely aqua silk skirt and blouse; high heels and fully accessorized in a matching aqua and gold necklace and earrings. I put my scrubs on and the lovely little head covering. I looked at the the paper booties and realized that I was going to have to keep my heels on. Great, I'm going to help deliver the baby in high heels. I covered the heels with the paper booties. I forgot to take off my jewelry.

The nurse brought in a cart, re-positioned the bed and we began the last phase of "he he" and "ha ha" breathing techniques. "Try not to push." "You shut up." "Where is Dr. Hanft?"

At some point the door flew open and there was the dear doctor. He moved quickly into position as the accompanying nurse dressed him in scrubs. "Traffic" he mumbled. "You should have left earlier," I retorted. And so it began. Push, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, Relax. Push, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, Relax.

Dr. Hanft looked at me and laughed, "What do we have here, Scrubs by Ralph Lauren?" My jewelry perfectly matched the scrubs. I was looking good for Alexis' arrival.

And, then the miracle began to unfold. I could see the head crowning. They moved a mirror into position for Robin to watch. "Oh my", I thought, "she's a big girl." As I watched her shoulders squeeze through I winced. Robin whimpered. Wow! Oh, wow. . .here she comes. . .Oh, wow. "Stop saying wow. ..is she alright?" She's perfect. .she's a big girl, but she's perfect.

Alexis was presented to her mother, Robin. The umbilical cord waited. Robin looked at me and said "go ahead". "Really? really? Wow." I carefully took the surgical scissors and "snip." And there was this beautiful baby girl. . .crying and squirming and stretching outward. A miracle. I watched as the nurse cleaned her up and was told I was to accompany her to the nursery. WOW.

Robin picked up the phone to call her parents in the waiting room. She made the call while Dr. Hanft was giving her an episiotomy. What a woman!

It was a Friday night and I wanted to call everyone and tell them how wonderful it was to be part of this thing called child birth. I believe everyone was out at "happy hour". WOW. ..I sat quietly, at my home, with a scotch in hand. WOW!

Happy Birthday Alexis. I still look a you and say "WOW!"

Change of Plans. . .

Change of plans; I over-slept. Change of plans; the office called. Change of plans; call the doctor. Change of plans; I have nothing to wear. Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick.

Be nimble. Be "quick as a butterfly, sting like a bee." "Yes, the times they are a'changing."

I have come to a conclusion that the "things to do" list is merely a suggestion. Priorities, resources and desires change in an instant. This constant dynamic of change drives us into sleepless nights, caffeine driven days and alcohol sedated evenings. I "need" to go to the bank this morning somehow turns into "I should get to the bank sometime today, but it's Friday and I could always go on Monday morning."

Instead, I'll stay in my pajamas, check email, do some laundry and forgo having to put make-up on. I should shave my legs, but I could just wear slacks.

We often discuss the affect major change has on our lives. By major change I am referring to illness, job loss, change in financial position or relationship status. However, I now contend that those changes are out shadowed and precipitated by the stress of the daily dynamic. The traffic jam forces us to veer from our route, deters us from a timely arrival at home; our tardiness angers our spouse; the argument keeps us up all night; our sleep deprivation causes us to make a costly mistake at the office; and we lose our jobs; then we blame our spouse, end up in divorce court and lose our home. OK, maybe it doesn't all happen in a day; but, change is the culmination of a string of events; of twists and turns; decisions made at the spur of the moment. The universe is one and we are all "Ziggy."

So, do we "change" the cycle? NO, because we live for the changes. The anticipation of change is what fuels us, what we seek, what invigorates us. Change is spontaneous. Spontaneity is exhilarating. Change of plans; I am going to get my nails done.

And you thought this was going to be a pessimistic posting. . .have a great day.

I can't make this stuff up!

My mailbox was unusually full yesterday. Ah, the advent of holiday shopping catalogs. In spite of being on the "Do Not Mail" list, my name and address is golden to many mail order organizations. I like ordering from a catalog. It's simple and easy. And as far as stimulating the economy - I think I end up spending more on catalog sales. I spend and have nothing immediate to touch and feel, so I spend more.

However, occasionally there is a catalog that you wonder about it. How did I end up on their list? How is it that they even have a list? What the hell is this stuff? Who buys this stuff?

One such catalog arrived yesterday. I'll not mention the name (and forgive me if you use these products). I spent nearly an hour reviewing the items and laughing most of the time. Perhaps I was in a silly mood; perhaps the products themselves are silly. There were a lonely few items that I found very useful, but it was the description of the item that had me giggling.

This company has been offering "distinctive gifts since 1958." I suggest that some of the products and photos in the catalog have been around since 1958.

For some reason there were abundant choices to comfort your feet. Yes, I said feet. There were cardigan slippers to "treat your feet to toasty warmth"; orthodics to "realign your spine and pelvic areas"; toe separating socks "to keep your piggies apart"; snuggle slippers that will let "your toes wiggle with relief"; gel bunion covers with a snug fit that "prevents squeezing, rubbing and friction"; toe flexers "give you stronger, healthier feet in just ten minutes a day"; the bio energizer de-tox foot spa will leaving you feeling "invigorated" and having a "sense of well-being"; "a podiatrist recommended night-time bunion regulator with adjustable tension"; toe socks that "stretch and align toes"; and the ever popular toe straightener that "helps align crooked toes".

Wait, wait, there's more: if you order any of these items, you can also order:

The drum set alarm clock that wakes you up with a drum solo plus a "Good Morning" greeting. If that doesn't interest you, there is also the "Alarm Bell" Alarm Clock that sounds like a real fire alarm. Hmm, wake up to the sound of drums or a fire alarm? Sounds more like "broken" to me.

For the fashion-minded buyers, there are the "shirt-style dickey" or the "mock turtleneck dickey". The 35 Degree Below Knit Dickey is also offered (available in 6 colors!). Dickeys? Really? People still wear dickeys? Of course there is also the "modesty panel" that "enhances low-cut necklines". I thought the bare skin was what enhances the low-cut necklines.

I suspect that this catalog was born in the north lands. There are plenty of products to keep you warm: "the fleece ear-band that holds your cap on"; the "NFL blanket with sleeves"; the ponytail hat and headband for "stylish winter headgear"; cozy, knit snowflake gloves; an Arctic men's hat; a "snuggie" for kids; a "snuggie" for adults; no slip ice treads for your shoes; thermal liners for feet and hands; a knitted all-in-one hat and scarf; and the ever popular fleece wrap-around hat (popular with burglars).

There are a number of products for personal grooming and grooming others: the "Touch 'n Brush" as seen on TV; a glass mouthwash decanter; the "hair cutting umbrella" - a cape that resembles an inverted umbrella to catch clippings; the waist entender that adds up to 5" to the waistbands of jeans and pants; the hair funnel (a vinyl bonnet that secures around the head to allow hair washing from a sitting position); and my favorite, the EZ grip ear wax remover including two "spoon" tips and a super bright light to see deep into the ear canal. And I thought you weren't suppose to use "Q-tips" in your ears; well apparently a "spoon" is acceptable.

There is "restless leg cream" which doesn't detail if it MAKES your legs restless or relieves them. There is a book entitled "Why Are There NO Cats in the BIBLE": I wasn't aware that this was an issue.

You can order the "Fanny" Bank that "makes saving money a real gas!" "Just drop a coin in the strategically-placed slot of this tushy-shaped bank and listen as it lets out the loudest rip you ever heard." I can't make this stuff up!

There is the adorable "sleeping pet", "the next best thing to owning a real pet". It "breathes and snores." It uses two D batteries, ONLY ONE included.

I need to ask my eye doctor about the "perfect vision training glasses"; perforated lenses to work out your eye muscles. If he gives me the go ahead, I'm ordering the glasses along with the toe exerciser to complete my full body workout.

'Tis the season. . .