I intended to stop by Shipley's to pick up a couple of my favorites - glazed - before arriving at the Bridge Studio yesterday morning to have a makeup game with Roop Prasad, my regular mentee for the past year on Wednesday mornings (2nd Wednesday of each month), but didn't have enough time. It's just as well, tho, because some kind soul had brought in a bunch of them to share with all of us!
For the past 35+ years, I've been kind of basking in the luxury of having a Shipley's dohnuts shop - well, in fact, several! - here in Houston. They're a local chain, with over 220 locations in Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma and New Mexico. Yep, you read that right. Nothing in New Hampshire. Oh, unhappy day!
What seems to be most prevalent in New Hampshire is Dunkin' Donuts ... at one point in my visit there last week, I counted three (3!) of their stores within a half mile radius. I'll give them credit for serving a great cup of hot chocolate, but you can have the rest of their offerings. Ugh! Just not to my taste.
However, I did notice several "bakery and cafe" or "bakery and restaurant" signs in the area. Will have to investigate some of those and let you know what I discover. Hopefully, one of them will have dohnuts more to my liking and be located not too far from where I'll be living. I like them nice and soft and fresh, so I only buy two or three at a time.
Moulton's Market, located just off the Village Green in Amherst, offers a little bit of this and a little bit of that. We (daughter, son-in-law and myself) were there a couple of times last week, mainly to pick up sandwiches and soft drinks to go.
On our last day there, I noticed they had homemade soups - chili and vegetable. I smelled them both. Delicious! Their deli menu changes daily, but count on me to report back on the soups, in particular. That's one item that reheats very well in the microwave. And yes, I'll have a microwave.
Getting back to yesterday, I was more than just a little surprised when Roop presented me with a parting gift ... a 100% cashmere scarf, a tartan pattern in shades of brown and made in Scotland. (Guess she'd forgotten we were also scheduled to play in the mentor/mentee game this coming Wednesday morning.) So soft! You just wouldn't believe the softness of this scarf.
I proudly wore it around my neck the rest of our game and intend to sport it again this coming Wednesday. Thank you, Roop, for your beautiful and most thoughtful gift.
Showing posts with label Good things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Good things. Show all posts
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Back home
I won't be able to say "home" again in another three weeks - exactly three weeks from today, as a matter of fact - will I? It'll seem strange, probably, to leave Houston after so many years of living in one place.
[Took a little break there and started a future post, "What I'll miss about Houston". It probably won't happen again with this one, but I just had to stop and begin writing it. There were a couple of things on my mind that I wanted to say before I forgot how important they were to me. Have you ever had that happen to you?]
Anyway, I arrived safely back in my townhouse somewhere between 9:30 and 10 last night. Boy, I was one tired puppy, I'll tell you that! (Two full, jam-packed days in New England, some of which you've already read about.) Our day began early yesterday, with breakfast and checking out of the motel, before heading on over to my daughter's and her husband's new house - and yes! all was finalized and properly notarized (late, but officially signed, sealed and delivered the evening before!) .. by 8am to meet with the contractor and go over the plans for "my apartment", among other things.
I hadn't wanted to get up. After our meal out the night before, I had literally "fallen" into bed back at the motel, but then had trouble staying asleep. Too much on my mind, I guess. Lots and lots of stress early on in the trip. Most of the irritating things that were happening did not really have a direct bearing on me, but I was right there while it was all happening and it was difficult not to internalize some of it.
What was directly related to me was that Wednesday, as I was spending six or so hours at the motel napping, writing my last post and catching up on e-mails, I kept having this memory of giving my son-in-law both my sets of car keys and house keys at the airport here in Houston on Tuesday before going through security. My mind clearly remembered him dropping the keys into his carry-on bag. I was concerned that I would arrive back in Houston with no keys whatsoever. Yowsers!
I left him a note to that effect. He responded by saying that I hadn't given him two sets of keys .. only one, and he had dropped those into my new computer bag. (Prior to that, I'd placed the computer in my 'to be checked in' suitcase.) And, to prove his point, when we got back from dinner, he searched through my bag and found just the one set .. the car keys. Well, jeez!
What was happening with my mind? What was I doing to myself? Particularly after the broken bed slat story, which you don't know yet because I haven't told you (And it's funny!), I was starting to get more than just a little concerned.
He reassured me that I just had a lot on my mind, that I was inadvertently juxtaposing imagined events onto actual ones. I shouldn't be worried, he said. And so, I finally decided that it was ridiculous for me to think I would not have left the house keys in the car - as I always do! - and given him just the one set of keys, the car keys. So, I drifted back into a fitful sleep.
Later on in that long and nearly sleepless night, I got up and searched through my computer bag. You'll never guess what I found. ... ... You guessed it - both sets of keys - car and house! Ye gods!!
Moving on with yesterday ... ... we drove out to their new house in broad daylight and much cooler temperatures (More about temperature extremes in NH in a later post. They set records throughout New England Wednesday. Think they were almost 10 degrees warmer there - 97 or 98 degrees, depending on your news source - than in Houston! LOL). That's gorgeous countryside, folks, btw, absolutely gorgeous! (Again, another post on down the line. Hopefully, one accompanied by gloriously-illustrative photographs.)
Before we left their house to drive into Boston to catch my late afternoon flight, which was scheduled to depart at 4:55 pm Boston time (boarding at 4:20), I was given the old grill routine as to where my keys were. Well, as far as I knew, they were in my computer bag, safely ensconced in one of the many zippered compartments where I had placed them several hours before. I wasn't about to walk out to their rented car and unzip everything just to make sure they were still there. Would you have? I mean, I knew they were there, right? Right.
And so, off we went. I took a little nap in the car on the way and then, Bingo, we were there! John (s-i-l) got out of the car with me and escorted me inside while my daughter went to wait in a nearby cell phone lot, pushing my wheelchair* up to the checkin counter, where we said our goodbyes after he was assured that I would have a wheelchair escort all the way through security (he wasn't allowed to accompany me) and to the bar, where I fully intended to have a great hand-made margarita while waiting for my boarding call an hour or hour and a half or so later. Sounded good to me!
*I realize that most of you do not know about this latest glitch in Goldenrod's life. Not something you need to lose any sleep over or be overly concerned about, but I simply no longer have the strength to walk very far. More later, no doubt, if and when, but we'll just talk about my trip this time around, if that's ok with you.
There was only one little snag, as I saw it. The fellow who came to 'escort' me was the same one who had left us absolutely high and dry in that same airport just outside of the passenger loading ramp two days before. (Told us at that time we had to take seats in the waiting area, that the wheelchair was needed for other purposes. He was unable to take us on down to the baggage claim area, he said. Dear me! It was along about that time, also, that John received his first "Something appears to be wrong with the closing" message, and so the next - perhaps more than a half hour or so went by with John whispering into his cell phone and frantically sending out and receiving text messages to try and find out what the devil had gone wrong.) Anyhoo, this was the same fellow.
I was leery of continuing on with this inept, but probably well-meaning, fellow. However, he got me to the bar ok .. and, after I checked with one of the serving staff and found out that I would indeed be able to acquire a good margarita, he deposited me there and left (after assuring me that he had ordered a wheelchair to pick me back up at the bar at 4:10 .. plenty of time to get to the gate and be one of the first of the early "VIP" boarders on the aircraft). Sounds good, right?
It was a good margarita and I enjoyed every sip of it! Had a really nice visit with another passenger who was waiting for his continuing direct flight on to Portland, OR. He lives there, but has to come back to Boston about once a month on business. (My son-in-law will be facing the same type of thing once they relocate to the northeast.)
As 4:10 approached, I kept eyeing the front door for the 'so-ordered' wheelchair. None appeared. I paid my tab, told the bartender that I was going to start walking outside, that I was expecting a wheelchair at any moment, but would she check to make sure one had been ordered? Long story short, none had been (Of course not! Could we possibly have expected anything else/more from this person??), but it didn't take very long at all for one to arrive and I got to the gate right at 4:20, the announced boarding time.
I was extremely pleased with the whole situation, until I was told that we wouldn't be boarding just then. Oh, my! Now what to do? I certainly didn't want my 'replacement' wheelchair person to have to wait there until early boarding was finally announced. Would you? Oh, my! But then we were told by one of the people behind the counter to just wheel my chair back (away from the counter, but in plain sight) and I would be taken care of as soon as possible. I didn't have really good feelings about this, but didn't know what else could be done. I acquiesced.
Many, many minutes later (more than 30), the fellow who had said to wheel the chair back away from the counter came out to get me and wheeled me onto the plane himself! My goodness!! I was first on!!! (But then, of course, had to wait another thirty minutes - or so - for everyone else to get on and stash their carry-ons, but what an experience. I felt really special!)
The trip back to Houston was interesting. (We took off from Boston 37 minutes late, but landed in Houston only 12 minutes after the original ETA. Have no earthly idea how the pilot could possibly have made up all that time! A really smooth flight, and an exceptionally smooth landing.)
I had the fortunate opportunity to be seated next to a young lady who is a speech therapist. She'd been in the Boston area, visiting with her father and mother. Her mother has Alzheimer's. Hideous disease! The mother is only a year older than I am. The gal I was sitting next to visits as often as she can. Her father - same age as the mother - takes care of her ... does all of the cooking, cleaning, yardwork, etc. They've been married for over fifty years and he is 100% dedicated to his wife's health and well-being. I simply cannot imagine such a lifelong and sustaining love. Wonderful!
I checked with the head stewardess, as we were in the final phase of our descent into Houston, to make sure a wheelchair had been ordered for me upon our arrival. She assured me that one had. My traveling companion accompanied me to the front of first class, carrying my computer bag, where I stopped off to use the ladies' room. I was then directed to wait in the front seat. I did.
Very shortly after the last ambulatory passenger deplaned, my wheelchair arrived. I got on and was quickly driven to one of those moving cart-type thingees. Next thing I knew, we were all deposited at the top of an escalator to go down to the baggage claim area. Well, I took one look at that escalator and was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to make it .. not while carrying that heavy computer bag. I was very much afraid of losing my balance.
I asked the driver if he could possibly take me down to baggage claim. Well, no he couldn't, he said, but he'd get me to someone who could! And so, the next few moments were spent wheeling madly around that floor - him talking on his cell phone the whole time. It was kind of funny, actually!
We stopped and made a u-turn next to someone he knew .. she loaded me onto a wheelchair, and away we went. When we got down to baggage claim, she asked me what color my bag was. I told her 'yellow'. (I'm a fossil, what can I tell you?) As soon as she disappeared around the corner to look for it closer to the front, I saw it. One of my fellow passengers grabbed it for me and hailed my fast disappearing escort. She came back and off we went to the outside area where buses were waiting to take arriving passengers to where they'd left their cars in a long-term parking area. She butted the line, got me loaded and disappeared almost as quickly as she'd arrived.
I had no chance whatsoever to give her a well-deserved tip. Same thing with my first two drivers. Just the darndest thing! I wouldn't have believed such a thing could happen had it not happened to me.
Anyway, I'm back, safe and sound. Have just a ton of things to do, not the least of which is get on up to Farmer's, where Larry Gray is no doubt waiting for half of my homeowner's insurance - due Sunday (Of course! Don't all of these due dates fall either on a weekend or a holiday?). More later!
[Took a little break there and started a future post, "What I'll miss about Houston". It probably won't happen again with this one, but I just had to stop and begin writing it. There were a couple of things on my mind that I wanted to say before I forgot how important they were to me. Have you ever had that happen to you?]
Anyway, I arrived safely back in my townhouse somewhere between 9:30 and 10 last night. Boy, I was one tired puppy, I'll tell you that! (Two full, jam-packed days in New England, some of which you've already read about.) Our day began early yesterday, with breakfast and checking out of the motel, before heading on over to my daughter's and her husband's new house - and yes! all was finalized and properly notarized (late, but officially signed, sealed and delivered the evening before!) .. by 8am to meet with the contractor and go over the plans for "my apartment", among other things.
I hadn't wanted to get up. After our meal out the night before, I had literally "fallen" into bed back at the motel, but then had trouble staying asleep. Too much on my mind, I guess. Lots and lots of stress early on in the trip. Most of the irritating things that were happening did not really have a direct bearing on me, but I was right there while it was all happening and it was difficult not to internalize some of it.
What was directly related to me was that Wednesday, as I was spending six or so hours at the motel napping, writing my last post and catching up on e-mails, I kept having this memory of giving my son-in-law both my sets of car keys and house keys at the airport here in Houston on Tuesday before going through security. My mind clearly remembered him dropping the keys into his carry-on bag. I was concerned that I would arrive back in Houston with no keys whatsoever. Yowsers!
I left him a note to that effect. He responded by saying that I hadn't given him two sets of keys .. only one, and he had dropped those into my new computer bag. (Prior to that, I'd placed the computer in my 'to be checked in' suitcase.) And, to prove his point, when we got back from dinner, he searched through my bag and found just the one set .. the car keys. Well, jeez!
What was happening with my mind? What was I doing to myself? Particularly after the broken bed slat story, which you don't know yet because I haven't told you (And it's funny!), I was starting to get more than just a little concerned.
He reassured me that I just had a lot on my mind, that I was inadvertently juxtaposing imagined events onto actual ones. I shouldn't be worried, he said. And so, I finally decided that it was ridiculous for me to think I would not have left the house keys in the car - as I always do! - and given him just the one set of keys, the car keys. So, I drifted back into a fitful sleep.
Later on in that long and nearly sleepless night, I got up and searched through my computer bag. You'll never guess what I found. ... ... You guessed it - both sets of keys - car and house! Ye gods!!
Moving on with yesterday ... ... we drove out to their new house in broad daylight and much cooler temperatures (More about temperature extremes in NH in a later post. They set records throughout New England Wednesday. Think they were almost 10 degrees warmer there - 97 or 98 degrees, depending on your news source - than in Houston! LOL). That's gorgeous countryside, folks, btw, absolutely gorgeous! (Again, another post on down the line. Hopefully, one accompanied by gloriously-illustrative photographs.)
Before we left their house to drive into Boston to catch my late afternoon flight, which was scheduled to depart at 4:55 pm Boston time (boarding at 4:20), I was given the old grill routine as to where my keys were. Well, as far as I knew, they were in my computer bag, safely ensconced in one of the many zippered compartments where I had placed them several hours before. I wasn't about to walk out to their rented car and unzip everything just to make sure they were still there. Would you have? I mean, I knew they were there, right? Right.
And so, off we went. I took a little nap in the car on the way and then, Bingo, we were there! John (s-i-l) got out of the car with me and escorted me inside while my daughter went to wait in a nearby cell phone lot, pushing my wheelchair* up to the checkin counter, where we said our goodbyes after he was assured that I would have a wheelchair escort all the way through security (he wasn't allowed to accompany me) and to the bar, where I fully intended to have a great hand-made margarita while waiting for my boarding call an hour or hour and a half or so later. Sounded good to me!
*I realize that most of you do not know about this latest glitch in Goldenrod's life. Not something you need to lose any sleep over or be overly concerned about, but I simply no longer have the strength to walk very far. More later, no doubt, if and when, but we'll just talk about my trip this time around, if that's ok with you.
There was only one little snag, as I saw it. The fellow who came to 'escort' me was the same one who had left us absolutely high and dry in that same airport just outside of the passenger loading ramp two days before. (Told us at that time we had to take seats in the waiting area, that the wheelchair was needed for other purposes. He was unable to take us on down to the baggage claim area, he said. Dear me! It was along about that time, also, that John received his first "Something appears to be wrong with the closing" message, and so the next - perhaps more than a half hour or so went by with John whispering into his cell phone and frantically sending out and receiving text messages to try and find out what the devil had gone wrong.) Anyhoo, this was the same fellow.
I was leery of continuing on with this inept, but probably well-meaning, fellow. However, he got me to the bar ok .. and, after I checked with one of the serving staff and found out that I would indeed be able to acquire a good margarita, he deposited me there and left (after assuring me that he had ordered a wheelchair to pick me back up at the bar at 4:10 .. plenty of time to get to the gate and be one of the first of the early "VIP" boarders on the aircraft). Sounds good, right?
It was a good margarita and I enjoyed every sip of it! Had a really nice visit with another passenger who was waiting for his continuing direct flight on to Portland, OR. He lives there, but has to come back to Boston about once a month on business. (My son-in-law will be facing the same type of thing once they relocate to the northeast.)
As 4:10 approached, I kept eyeing the front door for the 'so-ordered' wheelchair. None appeared. I paid my tab, told the bartender that I was going to start walking outside, that I was expecting a wheelchair at any moment, but would she check to make sure one had been ordered? Long story short, none had been (Of course not! Could we possibly have expected anything else/more from this person??), but it didn't take very long at all for one to arrive and I got to the gate right at 4:20, the announced boarding time.
I was extremely pleased with the whole situation, until I was told that we wouldn't be boarding just then. Oh, my! Now what to do? I certainly didn't want my 'replacement' wheelchair person to have to wait there until early boarding was finally announced. Would you? Oh, my! But then we were told by one of the people behind the counter to just wheel my chair back (away from the counter, but in plain sight) and I would be taken care of as soon as possible. I didn't have really good feelings about this, but didn't know what else could be done. I acquiesced.
Many, many minutes later (more than 30), the fellow who had said to wheel the chair back away from the counter came out to get me and wheeled me onto the plane himself! My goodness!! I was first on!!! (But then, of course, had to wait another thirty minutes - or so - for everyone else to get on and stash their carry-ons, but what an experience. I felt really special!)
The trip back to Houston was interesting. (We took off from Boston 37 minutes late, but landed in Houston only 12 minutes after the original ETA. Have no earthly idea how the pilot could possibly have made up all that time! A really smooth flight, and an exceptionally smooth landing.)
I had the fortunate opportunity to be seated next to a young lady who is a speech therapist. She'd been in the Boston area, visiting with her father and mother. Her mother has Alzheimer's. Hideous disease! The mother is only a year older than I am. The gal I was sitting next to visits as often as she can. Her father - same age as the mother - takes care of her ... does all of the cooking, cleaning, yardwork, etc. They've been married for over fifty years and he is 100% dedicated to his wife's health and well-being. I simply cannot imagine such a lifelong and sustaining love. Wonderful!
I checked with the head stewardess, as we were in the final phase of our descent into Houston, to make sure a wheelchair had been ordered for me upon our arrival. She assured me that one had. My traveling companion accompanied me to the front of first class, carrying my computer bag, where I stopped off to use the ladies' room. I was then directed to wait in the front seat. I did.
Very shortly after the last ambulatory passenger deplaned, my wheelchair arrived. I got on and was quickly driven to one of those moving cart-type thingees. Next thing I knew, we were all deposited at the top of an escalator to go down to the baggage claim area. Well, I took one look at that escalator and was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to make it .. not while carrying that heavy computer bag. I was very much afraid of losing my balance.
I asked the driver if he could possibly take me down to baggage claim. Well, no he couldn't, he said, but he'd get me to someone who could! And so, the next few moments were spent wheeling madly around that floor - him talking on his cell phone the whole time. It was kind of funny, actually!
We stopped and made a u-turn next to someone he knew .. she loaded me onto a wheelchair, and away we went. When we got down to baggage claim, she asked me what color my bag was. I told her 'yellow'. (I'm a fossil, what can I tell you?) As soon as she disappeared around the corner to look for it closer to the front, I saw it. One of my fellow passengers grabbed it for me and hailed my fast disappearing escort. She came back and off we went to the outside area where buses were waiting to take arriving passengers to where they'd left their cars in a long-term parking area. She butted the line, got me loaded and disappeared almost as quickly as she'd arrived.
I had no chance whatsoever to give her a well-deserved tip. Same thing with my first two drivers. Just the darndest thing! I wouldn't have believed such a thing could happen had it not happened to me.
Anyway, I'm back, safe and sound. Have just a ton of things to do, not the least of which is get on up to Farmer's, where Larry Gray is no doubt waiting for half of my homeowner's insurance - due Sunday (Of course! Don't all of these due dates fall either on a weekend or a holiday?). More later!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Final thoughts
Yes, I realize that I am publishing this before the men's gold medal hockey game or the closing ceremonies even begin, but - for me - this is as it should be. Yes, I'll be watching the hockey game (after "The Sixth Sense"), but then that'll be it.
I have thoroughly enjoyed the games. This will be my fifth post on them, and - if you have read the others - you already know what I liked most, what I found amusing, and what grated a little on me.
Rather than repeat myself, I thought it might be interesting to publish something a little different. And so, without further ado, here are my takes on ... ...
Pleasant surprises ... Not only watching (Via this wonderful link that Tammy sent me. Had to use it, because I was mentoring at the bridge studio Thursday evening, and was unable to view his performance live. Thank you, Tammy!) Evan Lysacek's gold medal-winning performance in men's figure skating, but realizing much later - during an interview with Bob Costas - that his hair did not naturally look like that, all plastered down, thank goodness. What a good-looking man! Adding to the pleasantness of my surprise was the calm and gracious manner in which he answered Bob's questions, including the one inquiring as to whether or not he intended to compete in the 2014 Winter Olympics in Russia. He replied (with a little wry grin on his face), "I'd like to, but I'm not sure they'll let me into the country!" (This comment, of course, a direct referral to Evgeni Plushenko's - not to mention the Russian premier's - very public criticism of his not performing a quad. I was a little surprised, actually ... glad, but surprised, to see the Russian perform in the gala yesterday.)
Another pleasant surprise was the amount of medals - and they started coming early! - the US won in the Alpine events. Unheard of, I think! Congratulations to all of our athletes who sacrificed, trained and worked so hard to compete in them. We appreciate you. I appreciate you!
Shocking things ... I don't know who was not shocked at the very unexpected turn of events in the men's speed skating event - 1500 meter, wasn't it? - when the skater from the Netherlands, easily on his way to Olympic gold, was mis-directed into the wrong lane by his coach and - rather than win the event - was subsequently disqualified. Since then, I have been searching for a word to describe this catastrophe. I have failed.
A Vancouverite's view ... Go here to read what Jo has to say about the Olympics being held where she lives and what she's been able to observe and take part in. Be sure to keep scrolling down to at least February 13th, where she talks about the opening ceremonies, which is one of my favorite posts of hers. Another of my personal favorites is this one, where she writes extensively about the White Bear People and the Spirit Bear. Fascinating stuff!
[I would like to add a comment or two about the gold medal winners' deportment during the award ceremonies. In my opinion, it is completely unnecessary that they sing - forget lip synching! - their national anthem. Is that how they got there, because they could sing their national anthem? No! They got there because of multitudinous hours of self-sacrifice, training and dedication to their sport. I can understand an athlete's inability to fully take part in the ceremony. I can only imagine - unless they've been in that position many times before, and very few have! - the euphoria they must be feeling and the blurriness of all the splendiferous activity going on around them. My most sincere hope is that someone has been recording this event for them, and they can relive it later when things have calmed down a bit. Standing at attention, perhaps with hand over heart, should be the maximum requirement. But, again, that's just my opinion.]
An epitomization of the best in all of us (we can only hope!) ... NBC has done a magnificent job showing us what our neighbor to the north - Canada - is all about, but in all of these really wonderful segments there is one thing that keeps screaming itself aloud - over and over - in my mind. The people, Goldenrod, the people!
And then yesterday, I was privileged to view - in its entirety - the premiere showing of Tom Brokaw's extended (30-40+ minutes) piece on the small town of Gander, in Newfoundland, and the part this extraordinary community had to play in the aftermath of early 9/11/2001. I am not the first blogger to write about this, no sirree. Check this site out for confirmation.
What a glorious piece! They broke for commercials a time or two during its airing, and I really didn't make note of the opening time (didn't know how long it would be!), so I can't tell you for sure how long it actually is from start to finish. I'll tell you one thing, tho ... ... it's well worth your time to view it (taping it, if possible, for future enjoyment) in its entirety.
So many heroes ... ... the airport controllers, who expanded from 3 to 14 (!) in a manner of minutes and landed (I forget the actual figure, but it was astronomical!) all of the diverted planes without incident. "It was an emergency," the chief controller said. "We train for events like these." ... ... the local bus drivers, who were on strike at the time, coming back to a man to assist in transporting the thousands of stranded airline passengers around ... ... the two local drugstores, who filled for free medicating prescriptions that had to be left on board with the checked luggage ... ... the thousands of townspeople (and those in surrounding communities) who quickly volunteered to step in and offer food, lodging and emotional support.
So many wonderful personal stories ... ... the stranded couple who actually met, married and then honeymooned there ... ... the parents of Kevin O'Rourke (sp? - cannot find the original article), a NYC fireman who was at first listed among the missing and later confirmed dead ... ... a passenger on Delta 15, who was instrumental in obtaining pledges for the citizens of Gander (who would not accept monetary contributions while the stranded passengers were there) in the amount of $15,000 (US) .. those monies were intended to establish a scholarship fund for graduating students in the area .. that fund has increased, btw, to nearly $900,000. (!)
There's a pretty fair writeup about Tom Brokaw's piece here, if you'd care to read further.
I'd just like to close by saying, "Thank you, Canada, for your hospitality and warmth during these past two weeks. I cannot imagine having a better neighbor!"
I have thoroughly enjoyed the games. This will be my fifth post on them, and - if you have read the others - you already know what I liked most, what I found amusing, and what grated a little on me.
Rather than repeat myself, I thought it might be interesting to publish something a little different. And so, without further ado, here are my takes on ... ...
Pleasant surprises ... Not only watching (Via this wonderful link that Tammy sent me. Had to use it, because I was mentoring at the bridge studio Thursday evening, and was unable to view his performance live. Thank you, Tammy!) Evan Lysacek's gold medal-winning performance in men's figure skating, but realizing much later - during an interview with Bob Costas - that his hair did not naturally look like that, all plastered down, thank goodness. What a good-looking man! Adding to the pleasantness of my surprise was the calm and gracious manner in which he answered Bob's questions, including the one inquiring as to whether or not he intended to compete in the 2014 Winter Olympics in Russia. He replied (with a little wry grin on his face), "I'd like to, but I'm not sure they'll let me into the country!" (This comment, of course, a direct referral to Evgeni Plushenko's - not to mention the Russian premier's - very public criticism of his not performing a quad. I was a little surprised, actually ... glad, but surprised, to see the Russian perform in the gala yesterday.)
Another pleasant surprise was the amount of medals - and they started coming early! - the US won in the Alpine events. Unheard of, I think! Congratulations to all of our athletes who sacrificed, trained and worked so hard to compete in them. We appreciate you. I appreciate you!
Shocking things ... I don't know who was not shocked at the very unexpected turn of events in the men's speed skating event - 1500 meter, wasn't it? - when the skater from the Netherlands, easily on his way to Olympic gold, was mis-directed into the wrong lane by his coach and - rather than win the event - was subsequently disqualified. Since then, I have been searching for a word to describe this catastrophe. I have failed.
A Vancouverite's view ... Go here to read what Jo has to say about the Olympics being held where she lives and what she's been able to observe and take part in. Be sure to keep scrolling down to at least February 13th, where she talks about the opening ceremonies, which is one of my favorite posts of hers. Another of my personal favorites is this one, where she writes extensively about the White Bear People and the Spirit Bear. Fascinating stuff!
[I would like to add a comment or two about the gold medal winners' deportment during the award ceremonies. In my opinion, it is completely unnecessary that they sing - forget lip synching! - their national anthem. Is that how they got there, because they could sing their national anthem? No! They got there because of multitudinous hours of self-sacrifice, training and dedication to their sport. I can understand an athlete's inability to fully take part in the ceremony. I can only imagine - unless they've been in that position many times before, and very few have! - the euphoria they must be feeling and the blurriness of all the splendiferous activity going on around them. My most sincere hope is that someone has been recording this event for them, and they can relive it later when things have calmed down a bit. Standing at attention, perhaps with hand over heart, should be the maximum requirement. But, again, that's just my opinion.]
An epitomization of the best in all of us (we can only hope!) ... NBC has done a magnificent job showing us what our neighbor to the north - Canada - is all about, but in all of these really wonderful segments there is one thing that keeps screaming itself aloud - over and over - in my mind. The people, Goldenrod, the people!
And then yesterday, I was privileged to view - in its entirety - the premiere showing of Tom Brokaw's extended (30-40+ minutes) piece on the small town of Gander, in Newfoundland, and the part this extraordinary community had to play in the aftermath of early 9/11/2001. I am not the first blogger to write about this, no sirree. Check this site out for confirmation.
What a glorious piece! They broke for commercials a time or two during its airing, and I really didn't make note of the opening time (didn't know how long it would be!), so I can't tell you for sure how long it actually is from start to finish. I'll tell you one thing, tho ... ... it's well worth your time to view it (taping it, if possible, for future enjoyment) in its entirety.
So many heroes ... ... the airport controllers, who expanded from 3 to 14 (!) in a manner of minutes and landed (I forget the actual figure, but it was astronomical!) all of the diverted planes without incident. "It was an emergency," the chief controller said. "We train for events like these." ... ... the local bus drivers, who were on strike at the time, coming back to a man to assist in transporting the thousands of stranded airline passengers around ... ... the two local drugstores, who filled for free medicating prescriptions that had to be left on board with the checked luggage ... ... the thousands of townspeople (and those in surrounding communities) who quickly volunteered to step in and offer food, lodging and emotional support.
So many wonderful personal stories ... ... the stranded couple who actually met, married and then honeymooned there ... ... the parents of Kevin O'Rourke (sp? - cannot find the original article), a NYC fireman who was at first listed among the missing and later confirmed dead ... ... a passenger on Delta 15, who was instrumental in obtaining pledges for the citizens of Gander (who would not accept monetary contributions while the stranded passengers were there) in the amount of $15,000 (US) .. those monies were intended to establish a scholarship fund for graduating students in the area .. that fund has increased, btw, to nearly $900,000. (!)
There's a pretty fair writeup about Tom Brokaw's piece here, if you'd care to read further.
I'd just like to close by saying, "Thank you, Canada, for your hospitality and warmth during these past two weeks. I cannot imagine having a better neighbor!"
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The locksmith ... ...
... has come and gone. (Arrived almost two hours after he was originally scheduled. It seems he had to break into a car way up on the north side of town and then fight heavy traffic to get over here in the far southwest.)
While we were waiting, my daughter and I did a walkthrough of whatall *I* wanted him to look at and then we came in here to take a look at the printer. It's making dirty-looking copies. Just recently started that routine.
She tried every which way she knew how to get it to make clean ones, but it was a no go. The upshot of this whole story is that she took the printer with her. My son-in-law will take a look at it, but she thinks he'll end up taking it to a professional. More later, if and when.
But getting back to the locksmith ... boy, I think we got a really good one. An amusing incident occurred when he first came into the house, tho. (I must add that it's only amusing if you have a really weird sense of humor, which I have.)
Those of you who have read my blog more than just a few times know how far down the list housekeeping chores are. In fact, they're so far down the list they don't even make the list, ok? I would rather brush my teeth, go to the bathroom, sit out on the back patio and walk the dog (I don't have a dog) rather than dust or scrub ANYthing!
And as for filing? Give me a break, will you please? Filing??? What the devil's THAT?!?
[Kind of a funny side story here. Julian Barr and I play duplicate bridge fairly regularly. He NEVER remembers our card and a few times - except for the most recent one - I was unable to find ours, which seemed to tick him off. ("Well, tuff titties," as my mother would have said. If he was that ticked, he should have brought HIS, right?) Anyway, when we played Sunday evening I brought our card with me. Guess where I found it? I had filed it, and in the proper place! LOL]
But getting back to the 'amusing incident' with the locksmith. When he came in the front door, he took one look around and asked, "Recycling?" Rrvit! My daughter ignored the question and quickly took him on the tour, showing him the problems that existed.
ALL outside doors, including the garage door - which I recently described in one of my posts as having a mind of its own and coming open whenever it felt like doing so, were in need of attention. However, it was my opinion that nothing could be done about ANY of them w/o incurring major - and I do mean major - reconstruction costs. (The house is coming ever closer, inch by inch, to falling down around me. Think that's a fairly true statement.) Hence the *I* in the second paragraph above.
I had already given my roflol (altho I used different lettering) opinions to my family, trying to get all of the sardonic laughter out of my system before said locksmith arrived, and - I might add - was surprisingly successful.
To make a long story shorter, and without going into whatall is wrong with my house - quite a 'downer', actually, so I'll not bore all y'all with it, I will just say that we had a locksmith extraordinaire. He thinks what he was able to accomplish will 'hold' for the next few months, until I'm out of here. Good news.
Not so good news is that while my daughter and I were sitting out on the patio visiting, my next door neighbor came over to tell me that he is leaving Houston next week. He has sold everything and is relocating back to Florida. While I am not terribly fond of my neighbor, that means I'll have a vacant house next door. He said he's having trouble finding a realtor who will even list the place! Gives you a little better idea of what has happened to this neighborhood, doesn't it?
Meanwhile, I'm sitting here unafraid. Really and truly. I don't like some of the things that have been happening and the direction in which they seem to be going, but I've never been one to sit around shaking in my boots.
I thought more than once that I should have a weapon, but just can't bring myself around to purchasing one. A couple of questions present themselves. 1) Would I use it? Probably yes, if I felt that my life was in danger. 2) Where would I keep it? On my body? That question is almost unanswerable. I need a Clint Eastwood-type around. Any volunteers?
While we were waiting, my daughter and I did a walkthrough of whatall *I* wanted him to look at and then we came in here to take a look at the printer. It's making dirty-looking copies. Just recently started that routine.
She tried every which way she knew how to get it to make clean ones, but it was a no go. The upshot of this whole story is that she took the printer with her. My son-in-law will take a look at it, but she thinks he'll end up taking it to a professional. More later, if and when.
But getting back to the locksmith ... boy, I think we got a really good one. An amusing incident occurred when he first came into the house, tho. (I must add that it's only amusing if you have a really weird sense of humor, which I have.)
Those of you who have read my blog more than just a few times know how far down the list housekeeping chores are. In fact, they're so far down the list they don't even make the list, ok? I would rather brush my teeth, go to the bathroom, sit out on the back patio and walk the dog (I don't have a dog) rather than dust or scrub ANYthing!
And as for filing? Give me a break, will you please? Filing??? What the devil's THAT?!?
[Kind of a funny side story here. Julian Barr and I play duplicate bridge fairly regularly. He NEVER remembers our card and a few times - except for the most recent one - I was unable to find ours, which seemed to tick him off. ("Well, tuff titties," as my mother would have said. If he was that ticked, he should have brought HIS, right?) Anyway, when we played Sunday evening I brought our card with me. Guess where I found it? I had filed it, and in the proper place! LOL]
But getting back to the 'amusing incident' with the locksmith. When he came in the front door, he took one look around and asked, "Recycling?" Rrvit! My daughter ignored the question and quickly took him on the tour, showing him the problems that existed.
ALL outside doors, including the garage door - which I recently described in one of my posts as having a mind of its own and coming open whenever it felt like doing so, were in need of attention. However, it was my opinion that nothing could be done about ANY of them w/o incurring major - and I do mean major - reconstruction costs. (The house is coming ever closer, inch by inch, to falling down around me. Think that's a fairly true statement.) Hence the *I* in the second paragraph above.
I had already given my roflol (altho I used different lettering) opinions to my family, trying to get all of the sardonic laughter out of my system before said locksmith arrived, and - I might add - was surprisingly successful.
To make a long story shorter, and without going into whatall is wrong with my house - quite a 'downer', actually, so I'll not bore all y'all with it, I will just say that we had a locksmith extraordinaire. He thinks what he was able to accomplish will 'hold' for the next few months, until I'm out of here. Good news.
Not so good news is that while my daughter and I were sitting out on the patio visiting, my next door neighbor came over to tell me that he is leaving Houston next week. He has sold everything and is relocating back to Florida. While I am not terribly fond of my neighbor, that means I'll have a vacant house next door. He said he's having trouble finding a realtor who will even list the place! Gives you a little better idea of what has happened to this neighborhood, doesn't it?
Meanwhile, I'm sitting here unafraid. Really and truly. I don't like some of the things that have been happening and the direction in which they seem to be going, but I've never been one to sit around shaking in my boots.
I thought more than once that I should have a weapon, but just can't bring myself around to purchasing one. A couple of questions present themselves. 1) Would I use it? Probably yes, if I felt that my life was in danger. 2) Where would I keep it? On my body? That question is almost unanswerable. I need a Clint Eastwood-type around. Any volunteers?
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Just for grins
A couple of weeks ago, Chuck posted a list of the world's shortest books. I asked him if the list was original with him and he said that it was from a mass e-mail a long time ago, altho he did revise and edit it a bit. Might give you a chuckle or two ... I know it did me!
And then, just a few days later, he dug up reasons why there would be no nativity scene in Washington this year.
Now, a little further north and quite a bit east, Steven has devised a way to make it snow on his blog. Isn't that clever? For the past couple of months or so, ever since Steven changed his background and type colors, I have been unable to read, enjoy or comment much on his blog. (I think I'm the only one of his readers bothered by this. I keep checking back - every other day, maybe - hoping that I'll be able to read something that he posts, because he's got lots of good stuff to offer, but the snow sure is fun!)
Much further west - out in Idaho - and not 'just for grins', Tammy posted the results of publishing (via Blurb) her 2007 and 2008 blog entries. What a lovely idea! Has anyone else thought of doing this?
I have been remiss in posting much about Christmas. Last year at this time, I was happily listening to a lot of special music and ended up with eight posts altogether that included some of my favorites. I hope you enoyed that series. I will be listening again and posting #1 later on today.
And then, just a few days later, he dug up reasons why there would be no nativity scene in Washington this year.
Now, a little further north and quite a bit east, Steven has devised a way to make it snow on his blog. Isn't that clever? For the past couple of months or so, ever since Steven changed his background and type colors, I have been unable to read, enjoy or comment much on his blog. (I think I'm the only one of his readers bothered by this. I keep checking back - every other day, maybe - hoping that I'll be able to read something that he posts, because he's got lots of good stuff to offer, but the snow sure is fun!)
Much further west - out in Idaho - and not 'just for grins', Tammy posted the results of publishing (via Blurb) her 2007 and 2008 blog entries. What a lovely idea! Has anyone else thought of doing this?
I have been remiss in posting much about Christmas. Last year at this time, I was happily listening to a lot of special music and ended up with eight posts altogether that included some of my favorites. I hope you enoyed that series. I will be listening again and posting #1 later on today.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Metaphysics, dream steps, poetry
Are you into stuff like that? Usually I am not, but for the past nearly two years I've been following the blogsite of Michael Patton, another of those I discovered while cruising the net.
Sometimes his poems make me laugh out loud. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes they lose me completely and I don't see much meaning in them. One day I found myself rereading a poem that I had commented on earlier and I saw something completely different in it. Kind of like art, I guess. Sort of depends on the mood you're in.
Michael never just writes poetry. He always begins with a few words of explanation and an illustration of some sort. It could be an actual photograph, but often he will treat us to one of his original drawings, such as this one ... ...
... which headed up "Permanently Evanescent", published just a couple of weeks ago. I seem to recall his having used this drawing at least once before. The explanation then had something to do with Prometheus (sp?), I think.
His drawings of cars and the people driving them are very funny! I spent some time just now trying to find the exact one I was looking for, but cannot. It would have been published several months ago. In its stead, here's one ... ...
... he used to accompany his poem, "Driving Naked", which he published on August 12th of this year. This is one of those that made me laugh out loud. I've just tried to link it directly for you, but for some reason or another have been unable to do so. If you'll go to the first link on this post and scroll down on the sidebar to August 2009 and bring that month of published poems up, you'll find it.
Anyhow, just thought I'd share - once again (I've recommended his poetry before) - one of my favorites with you. Hope you're having a great day. It's pouring down rain here!
Sometimes his poems make me laugh out loud. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes they lose me completely and I don't see much meaning in them. One day I found myself rereading a poem that I had commented on earlier and I saw something completely different in it. Kind of like art, I guess. Sort of depends on the mood you're in.
Michael never just writes poetry. He always begins with a few words of explanation and an illustration of some sort. It could be an actual photograph, but often he will treat us to one of his original drawings, such as this one ... ...
... which headed up "Permanently Evanescent", published just a couple of weeks ago. I seem to recall his having used this drawing at least once before. The explanation then had something to do with Prometheus (sp?), I think.
His drawings of cars and the people driving them are very funny! I spent some time just now trying to find the exact one I was looking for, but cannot. It would have been published several months ago. In its stead, here's one ... ...
... he used to accompany his poem, "Driving Naked", which he published on August 12th of this year. This is one of those that made me laugh out loud. I've just tried to link it directly for you, but for some reason or another have been unable to do so. If you'll go to the first link on this post and scroll down on the sidebar to August 2009 and bring that month of published poems up, you'll find it.
Anyhow, just thought I'd share - once again (I've recommended his poetry before) - one of my favorites with you. Hope you're having a great day. It's pouring down rain here!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Beth's delicious fudge recipe
This is per request from Nancy and I'm glad to share it.
Most of you know, I think, that I am - basically - an absolute and utter failure (no hope whatsoever!) as a cook, so when I come across a recipe that I am able to put together and have it turn out delicious each and every time - ho, boy, that's A#1 in my book!
It's really simple. (Has to be!) I'll be making a personal comment or two along the way.
Melt together in saucepan on top of stove a 14-oz. can of sweetened condensed milk along with 18-oz. semi-sweet chocolate bits.
Have you ever dealt with sweetened condensed milk? Sticky, isn't it? Keep the burner low while the chocolate is melting, stirring every so often, while you are tending to the nuts (which come next). Make sure you have something handy to set your stirrer on between times so you don't have sticky stuff dripping everywhere.
Add a dash of salt, 1 cup chopped pecans, 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla and 1 tablespoon butter to the above.
Those pecans have to already have been chopped into bits, ok? When you start adding everything, the texture almost immediately changes. There's very little time for you to futz around with chopping nuts. In fact, it's almost more than I am able to do to get it all mixed together before it begins hardening!
Set out on waxed paper (I use a cookie sheet - perfect size!) and spread around with a spatula to even as desired. Let harden. Cut to size. Salivate. Eat.
Most of you know, I think, that I am - basically - an absolute and utter failure (no hope whatsoever!) as a cook, so when I come across a recipe that I am able to put together and have it turn out delicious each and every time - ho, boy, that's A#1 in my book!
It's really simple. (Has to be!) I'll be making a personal comment or two along the way.
Melt together in saucepan on top of stove a 14-oz. can of sweetened condensed milk along with 18-oz. semi-sweet chocolate bits.
Have you ever dealt with sweetened condensed milk? Sticky, isn't it? Keep the burner low while the chocolate is melting, stirring every so often, while you are tending to the nuts (which come next). Make sure you have something handy to set your stirrer on between times so you don't have sticky stuff dripping everywhere.
Add a dash of salt, 1 cup chopped pecans, 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla and 1 tablespoon butter to the above.
Those pecans have to already have been chopped into bits, ok? When you start adding everything, the texture almost immediately changes. There's very little time for you to futz around with chopping nuts. In fact, it's almost more than I am able to do to get it all mixed together before it begins hardening!
Set out on waxed paper (I use a cookie sheet - perfect size!) and spread around with a spatula to even as desired. Let harden. Cut to size. Salivate. Eat.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
So, how was YOUR day?
Mine was great! Couldn't have been any better. The temperature outside was just a little chilly, but it's getting to be that time of year, right? Inside their house was a lot of warmth, and I'm not just talking about the fireplace, either.
We ate and ate and then ate some more. I took over some of Beth's delicious fudge that I had made the night before. It's probably all gone now. The last I saw of it, there were maybe a few pieces left and my granddaughter and her friend Jessica were busy grabbing one or two every time they went past the counter.
Sam - you remember Sam, don't you? - has been hibernating in my closet for a few months and I thought I should get him out, grab his clothes, and see what we could come up with in the way of a Thanksgiving outfit for him.
Well, my granddaughter thought Sam should be "Samantha" for the day, so here he/she is ... ...
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with bow on head. The photo came out a little dark, but you get the idea. Anyhow, Samantha was at the center of the table while we ate. A nice touch.
As an added plus, Samantha had no fear of being beheaded, defeathered, or any of those bad things that happen to other of her fowl friends. Beth sent me several jokes related to Thanksgiving and turkeys. Thought I'd share a couple with you.
This first one has all the turkeys running around mooing ... ...
... ... and this second (my favorite) shows a woman looking all over for the turkey she is sure she brought home with her! Can you find it? :)
Many games of bananagrams and a few of charades later - I suck at charades! - I was ready to call it a day. Just a fabulous Thanksgiving. Fantabulous!
We ate and ate and then ate some more. I took over some of Beth's delicious fudge that I had made the night before. It's probably all gone now. The last I saw of it, there were maybe a few pieces left and my granddaughter and her friend Jessica were busy grabbing one or two every time they went past the counter.
Sam - you remember Sam, don't you? - has been hibernating in my closet for a few months and I thought I should get him out, grab his clothes, and see what we could come up with in the way of a Thanksgiving outfit for him.
Well, my granddaughter thought Sam should be "Samantha" for the day, so here he/she is ... ...
.jpg)
with bow on head. The photo came out a little dark, but you get the idea. Anyhow, Samantha was at the center of the table while we ate. A nice touch.
As an added plus, Samantha had no fear of being beheaded, defeathered, or any of those bad things that happen to other of her fowl friends. Beth sent me several jokes related to Thanksgiving and turkeys. Thought I'd share a couple with you.
This first one has all the turkeys running around mooing ... ...
... ... and this second (my favorite) shows a woman looking all over for the turkey she is sure she brought home with her! Can you find it? :)
Many games of bananagrams and a few of charades later - I suck at charades! - I was ready to call it a day. Just a fabulous Thanksgiving. Fantabulous!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Seeing Alaska
One of my favorite bloggers, Chuck, has just concluded an 8-part series of posts which include videos he made and narrated about his Alaskan trip a few years back, but before you begin perusing any of those - my personal favorite is the one he did on the Kenai Peninsula, I recommend that you begin here.
This is just a wonderful post where he gives a really good overview of his "great Alaskan adventure" in 2004, traveling 10,000+ miles altogether from start to finish. Lots of photos. Lots of cross references. (He has a lot of fun cross-referencing.) Lots of detailed information.
His header really says it all ... "Adventure is not outside man, but within, for you cannot cross the sea by simply staring at the water." Chuck hasn't done much staring, and he's definitely crossed a lot of seas.
Getting back to Alaska, however, here is only one of the photos you will be treated to in this first post,
which was published on July 29th this year. It shows an aerial view of Glacier Bay National Park. Beautiful photograph!
Part 1 of Chuck's videocam series is titled "The Inside Passage -- Aboard the Alaska Ferry, Ketchikan, and Juneau", and was published in late October.
This month Chuck was really busy getting it all together and you can view selected posts or all, at your leisure. Part 2 (Nov. 1st) features "Skagway and the White Pass & Yukon RR". Part 3 - "Flightseeing Glacier Bay National Park" - followed the very next day.
Eight of these altogether, #8 publishing just this past Monday. Thank you, Chuck, for sharing with us so much of your wonderful trip. I, for one, have enjoyed seeing Alaska through your eyes.
This is just a wonderful post where he gives a really good overview of his "great Alaskan adventure" in 2004, traveling 10,000+ miles altogether from start to finish. Lots of photos. Lots of cross references. (He has a lot of fun cross-referencing.) Lots of detailed information.
His header really says it all ... "Adventure is not outside man, but within, for you cannot cross the sea by simply staring at the water." Chuck hasn't done much staring, and he's definitely crossed a lot of seas.
Getting back to Alaska, however, here is only one of the photos you will be treated to in this first post,
which was published on July 29th this year. It shows an aerial view of Glacier Bay National Park. Beautiful photograph!
Part 1 of Chuck's videocam series is titled "The Inside Passage -- Aboard the Alaska Ferry, Ketchikan, and Juneau", and was published in late October.
This month Chuck was really busy getting it all together and you can view selected posts or all, at your leisure. Part 2 (Nov. 1st) features "Skagway and the White Pass & Yukon RR". Part 3 - "Flightseeing Glacier Bay National Park" - followed the very next day.
Eight of these altogether, #8 publishing just this past Monday. Thank you, Chuck, for sharing with us so much of your wonderful trip. I, for one, have enjoyed seeing Alaska through your eyes.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The Gesundheit! Institute
I just finished watching "Patch Adams", the 1998 movie starring Robin Williams as Hunter "Patch" Adams, the controversial humanitarian who was very nearly denied his PhD in medicine due in part, according to the movie version of his story, to being "excessively happy".
The official review of this film, as it appears in my TV Guide, includes the word "cloying". Say that word slowly. Let it rattle around in your mouth for a while. Move it around with your tongue. Doesn't it almost make you want to spit it out? Nasty, disgusting stuff. The reviewer didn't think much of the movie, obviously, even though "an over-the-top Robin Williams" (the reviewer's phrase) did his very best to make Dr. Adams' story believable and palatable.
I could hardly disagree more. I am not the world's biggest Robin Williams fan, but he was the perfect choice to portray Patch, a firm believer in holistic medicine and healing through laughter. Through his portrayal, I came to know Patch Adams as a deeply compassionate man who wanted to improve patients' quality of life.
Here is what the real Patch Adams looks like, by the way ... ...
Is that one of the world's more colorful mustaches, or what??
The trailer at the end of the film described how Patch had provided free medical care to more than 12,000 patients, and went on to tell how plans were in the works to build a 40-bed facility on land that had been purchased in West Virginia.
I was a little distressed to learn a few moments ago, in doing research for this post, that the monies needed to build such a facility still have not been procured. That makes me sad.
If you would like to read more about Patch Adams' personal philosophy and the Gesundheit! Institute, go here. He even has his own blog site.
The official review of this film, as it appears in my TV Guide, includes the word "cloying". Say that word slowly. Let it rattle around in your mouth for a while. Move it around with your tongue. Doesn't it almost make you want to spit it out? Nasty, disgusting stuff. The reviewer didn't think much of the movie, obviously, even though "an over-the-top Robin Williams" (the reviewer's phrase) did his very best to make Dr. Adams' story believable and palatable.
I could hardly disagree more. I am not the world's biggest Robin Williams fan, but he was the perfect choice to portray Patch, a firm believer in holistic medicine and healing through laughter. Through his portrayal, I came to know Patch Adams as a deeply compassionate man who wanted to improve patients' quality of life.
Here is what the real Patch Adams looks like, by the way ... ...
Is that one of the world's more colorful mustaches, or what??
The trailer at the end of the film described how Patch had provided free medical care to more than 12,000 patients, and went on to tell how plans were in the works to build a 40-bed facility on land that had been purchased in West Virginia.
I was a little distressed to learn a few moments ago, in doing research for this post, that the monies needed to build such a facility still have not been procured. That makes me sad.
If you would like to read more about Patch Adams' personal philosophy and the Gesundheit! Institute, go here. He even has his own blog site.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Sunday morning
Well, it's just after 9:30 am now. I've been up for perhaps an hour. I wrote "Bending wire" sometime in the wee hours, just before trying to stay up to watch The Red Shoes, a 1948 ballet film starring Moira Shearer. I couldn't do it. I had to hit the pillow just after her performance in the new ballet, less than halway through the story.
The film goes on to a very tragic ending. Perhaps it will be re-shown later this week - it was playing on our 24/7 local movie channel - and I'll get a chance to watch it in its entirety. I've only seen this movie once before. It has to have been at least fifty years since then, perhaps more. I remembered the glorious photography, the beautiful dancing and - of course, Moira Shearer.
Wiki has a nice writeup about the making of this film which you can read about here, if you're curious and would like to learn more about the story.
I'm all caught up now with my favorite blogs, and I want to give a special shoutout to Steve Davis, our blogger friend from Alberta, Canada. (Not to be confused with Steven, who lives in southeastern Ontario.)
Steve recently got published for the second time outside of the world of philately, this one in an e-zine called Reflective Dog. His current work is a creative nonfiction piece about a bystander who witnesses JFK's assassination.
In his short work, Steve tries to recapture the emotion - the excitement leading up to and then the shock of the actual event. You can read it here, if you'd like.
This past March, Steve could barely contain his excitement as he wrote about his first feature article being chosen for publication in a mainline magazine, Saltscapes.
I had to grit my teeth yet once again, tho, in researching for this post, when I read where he wrote, "The title of the article and it's description is, ... " The bold emphasis is mine. Boy, is that ever a common error! Even among published writers, it would appear. I guess that's what editors are for, huh?
(On June 28th of last year, I published a fairly lengthy dissertation entitled "Its" vs. "It's". That one really sticks in my craw. Two of my blogger friends, who later told me how much they appreciated the lesson and now they completely understood the difference, are STILL making the same error! ? Just shut up, Goldenrod, mind your own business and get on with your post, OK?)
This morning I took some time to go back through a few of Steve's previous posts. I was looking for those where he was chronicling some of his struggles to be a published writer. I found one where he talks about making a resolution to write at least a page a day and another, where he offers quotes from other writers that he's found inspirational when his own resolve seems to falter.
Congratulations, Steve, on your most recent success story. May you have many many more!
The film goes on to a very tragic ending. Perhaps it will be re-shown later this week - it was playing on our 24/7 local movie channel - and I'll get a chance to watch it in its entirety. I've only seen this movie once before. It has to have been at least fifty years since then, perhaps more. I remembered the glorious photography, the beautiful dancing and - of course, Moira Shearer.
Wiki has a nice writeup about the making of this film which you can read about here, if you're curious and would like to learn more about the story.
I'm all caught up now with my favorite blogs, and I want to give a special shoutout to Steve Davis, our blogger friend from Alberta, Canada. (Not to be confused with Steven, who lives in southeastern Ontario.)
Steve recently got published for the second time outside of the world of philately, this one in an e-zine called Reflective Dog. His current work is a creative nonfiction piece about a bystander who witnesses JFK's assassination.
In his short work, Steve tries to recapture the emotion - the excitement leading up to and then the shock of the actual event. You can read it here, if you'd like.
This past March, Steve could barely contain his excitement as he wrote about his first feature article being chosen for publication in a mainline magazine, Saltscapes.
I had to grit my teeth yet once again, tho, in researching for this post, when I read where he wrote, "The title of the article and it's description is, ... " The bold emphasis is mine. Boy, is that ever a common error! Even among published writers, it would appear. I guess that's what editors are for, huh?
(On June 28th of last year, I published a fairly lengthy dissertation entitled "Its" vs. "It's". That one really sticks in my craw. Two of my blogger friends, who later told me how much they appreciated the lesson and now they completely understood the difference, are STILL making the same error! ? Just shut up, Goldenrod, mind your own business and get on with your post, OK?)
This morning I took some time to go back through a few of Steve's previous posts. I was looking for those where he was chronicling some of his struggles to be a published writer. I found one where he talks about making a resolution to write at least a page a day and another, where he offers quotes from other writers that he's found inspirational when his own resolve seems to falter.
Congratulations, Steve, on your most recent success story. May you have many many more!
Bending wire
Terry Border has a neat blogsite. Check it out for yourself. It's light-hearted and fun.
He recently published a book called Bent Objects: The Secret Life of Everyday Things. Then last Saturday (a week ago), on his site, he told about an idea he'd had for how people could order a copy directly from him. He'll autograph it and even make doodles on it if you wish. He says he doesn't draw, he doodles.
I first came upon his name as a direct result of reading one of Whalechaser's posts. I've been doing a bit of catching up lately. She had the following trailer for his book on her site ... ...
It intrigued me so much that I thought I'd find out a bit more about this man and share that information with you.
Well! Come to find out that he's got all sorts of ideas for promoting his income-producing hobby, including greeting cards that will be carried by Target stores. Says he's seen a couple in stores already.
For a delightful few minutes, spend some time on Terry's site. I think you'll find yourself smiling, perhaps even chuckling a time or two.
He recently published a book called Bent Objects: The Secret Life of Everyday Things. Then last Saturday (a week ago), on his site, he told about an idea he'd had for how people could order a copy directly from him. He'll autograph it and even make doodles on it if you wish. He says he doesn't draw, he doodles.
I first came upon his name as a direct result of reading one of Whalechaser's posts. I've been doing a bit of catching up lately. She had the following trailer for his book on her site ... ...
It intrigued me so much that I thought I'd find out a bit more about this man and share that information with you.
Well! Come to find out that he's got all sorts of ideas for promoting his income-producing hobby, including greeting cards that will be carried by Target stores. Says he's seen a couple in stores already.
For a delightful few minutes, spend some time on Terry's site. I think you'll find yourself smiling, perhaps even chuckling a time or two.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
A Transformative Moment
I've written so much about myself - blabbed, actually - that I thought I'd have this transformative moment be someone else's!
In 1977, I was a new 'single' and looking for a church home, preferably one that had an active singles group. I found one, at the Memorial Drive Presbyterian Church. This group, called TGIS (Thank God I'm Single, as they somewhat irreverently nicknamed it, instead of Thank God It's Sunday), met at 11 am each Sunday morning in a very large fellowship hall.
The vast majority of its members came only for TGIS, altho several arrived an hour early to attend the "folk" services. I asked about these. What were they like? I was told that these services were more 'relaxed', that the songs were often composed by the choir director and accompanied - not by the majestic organ, but by jazz combo-type performers and that parishioners often laughed, clapped and sometimes even shouted during the service.
That sounded very strange to me - yet, at the same time intriguing, and so I went to one. Then I went to another. And another. It was while I was attending one of those folk services that I first heard Dr. Wharton speak.
I was so impressed! His central message always seemed to be "God's love", "God's grace", "God's forgiveness". I couldn't get enough of listening to this man! He filled my heart with such joy. I attended every class he taught and dragged every one of my friends who would allow themselves to be 'dragged' to church with me, hoping they might feel just a wee bit for themselves some of the happiness that welled up inside me every time I heard such good news.
One of these was Ruth, one of my best friends, who was a Unitarian church member. I asked her after the service what her impression was and she said, "If I had to try and describe him in one word, that word would be 'nonjudgmental'."
As a Christian born in the late 1930's, I was taught early on that only those who believe that Jesus Christ is our Lord and Saviour will go to Heaven. However, I often heard Dr. Wharton say he had trouble believing that the God he loved so much could be so narrow-minded (his exact words).
He had many friends - close friends - outside of the Christian faith, but there were those within the church who felt threatened by his publicly-stated views. He had a profound influence on me, and to this day - 30-some years later - I am often reminded of his stance on judging others when I find myself being critical.
It is Dr. James A. Wharton's "transformative moment" that I would like to share with you ... ... the definitive moment in his life that forever changed him from a smug, anti-social and rebellious teenager into a lifelong and nonjudgmental servant of God.
He and his group were walking along down the sidewalk, seeing what kind of trouble they could get into, picking on whomever and rudely laughing at others' misfortunes when - all of a sudden - they heard the screeching of brakes and the unmistakable sound of 'something' being struck.
Quickly, they all looked around. There, lying almost in the gutter, was a woman. It was she who had been hit by the car. She was bleeding. Badly-injured, it appeared. She was unkempt and filthy and reeked of liquor. The group began to laugh and point.
Young James, however, went towards her to get a closer look. He felt compelled to take the dying woman in his arms, and as he did so he felt the love, grace, forgiveness and power of Jesus Christ go through his arms and enfold the woman.
"Even to the least of these," he thought, and was overwhelmed with God's love and mercy.
I'm sure I haven't told his story very well, but that's the truth as I remember him telling it many times over. In preparation for this post, I tried to look up James A. Wharton, to see if he's still with us here on earth.
He spoke on "Ichabod or Ebenezer?" at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary's centennial celebration in 2003, the text of which can (supposedly) be read on-line. However, when I went to the site, it's not there. But, this would have been six years ago. Tomorrow*, if I get a chance, I'll call their library to see if the text of his sermon can still be read.
*This is being written on Tuesday evening, the 18th.
I hope that you and your readers will forgive me, Steven, for not writing about myself here. You had such a splendiferous idea and I can't wait to read all of the linked entries!
In 1977, I was a new 'single' and looking for a church home, preferably one that had an active singles group. I found one, at the Memorial Drive Presbyterian Church. This group, called TGIS (Thank God I'm Single, as they somewhat irreverently nicknamed it, instead of Thank God It's Sunday), met at 11 am each Sunday morning in a very large fellowship hall.
The vast majority of its members came only for TGIS, altho several arrived an hour early to attend the "folk" services. I asked about these. What were they like? I was told that these services were more 'relaxed', that the songs were often composed by the choir director and accompanied - not by the majestic organ, but by jazz combo-type performers and that parishioners often laughed, clapped and sometimes even shouted during the service.
That sounded very strange to me - yet, at the same time intriguing, and so I went to one. Then I went to another. And another. It was while I was attending one of those folk services that I first heard Dr. Wharton speak.
I was so impressed! His central message always seemed to be "God's love", "God's grace", "God's forgiveness". I couldn't get enough of listening to this man! He filled my heart with such joy. I attended every class he taught and dragged every one of my friends who would allow themselves to be 'dragged' to church with me, hoping they might feel just a wee bit for themselves some of the happiness that welled up inside me every time I heard such good news.
One of these was Ruth, one of my best friends, who was a Unitarian church member. I asked her after the service what her impression was and she said, "If I had to try and describe him in one word, that word would be 'nonjudgmental'."
As a Christian born in the late 1930's, I was taught early on that only those who believe that Jesus Christ is our Lord and Saviour will go to Heaven. However, I often heard Dr. Wharton say he had trouble believing that the God he loved so much could be so narrow-minded (his exact words).
He had many friends - close friends - outside of the Christian faith, but there were those within the church who felt threatened by his publicly-stated views. He had a profound influence on me, and to this day - 30-some years later - I am often reminded of his stance on judging others when I find myself being critical.
It is Dr. James A. Wharton's "transformative moment" that I would like to share with you ... ... the definitive moment in his life that forever changed him from a smug, anti-social and rebellious teenager into a lifelong and nonjudgmental servant of God.
He and his group were walking along down the sidewalk, seeing what kind of trouble they could get into, picking on whomever and rudely laughing at others' misfortunes when - all of a sudden - they heard the screeching of brakes and the unmistakable sound of 'something' being struck.
Quickly, they all looked around. There, lying almost in the gutter, was a woman. It was she who had been hit by the car. She was bleeding. Badly-injured, it appeared. She was unkempt and filthy and reeked of liquor. The group began to laugh and point.
Young James, however, went towards her to get a closer look. He felt compelled to take the dying woman in his arms, and as he did so he felt the love, grace, forgiveness and power of Jesus Christ go through his arms and enfold the woman.
"Even to the least of these," he thought, and was overwhelmed with God's love and mercy.
I'm sure I haven't told his story very well, but that's the truth as I remember him telling it many times over. In preparation for this post, I tried to look up James A. Wharton, to see if he's still with us here on earth.
He spoke on "Ichabod or Ebenezer?" at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary's centennial celebration in 2003, the text of which can (supposedly) be read on-line. However, when I went to the site, it's not there. But, this would have been six years ago. Tomorrow*, if I get a chance, I'll call their library to see if the text of his sermon can still be read.
*This is being written on Tuesday evening, the 18th.
I hope that you and your readers will forgive me, Steven, for not writing about myself here. You had such a splendiferous idea and I can't wait to read all of the linked entries!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Crock pot taco soup
"The most delicious soup ever" is how Tammy refers to this ... ...
Doesn't that look absolutely scrumptious?
Here's the recipe ...
1 pound ground turkey, browned
1 envelope taco seasoning mix
1 envelope ranch dressing mix
1 large can diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can green chilies, undrained
1 can whole kernel corn, undrained
1 can black beans, undrained
1 can sliced black olives, drained
1 onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
Place ingredients in a crock pot, stir and add just enough water to cover everything. Cook on low all day or on high for about 4 hours. Top individual bowls of soup with a dollop of sour cream, if desired.
Tammy adds, "I would imagine this would be fine simmering in a large pot on the stove all day. Also, it would be delicious without meat, too."
I intend to try this when our weather cools down a bit. I'll be using RO*TEL's cans of diced tomatoes and green chilies, instead. Too bad they don't have the RO*TEL brand up there in Idaho. You might recall that I first wrote about RO*TEL this past January, when I was talking about a really neat recipe for chili. If you missed that post and would like a tried and tested chili recipe, or if you'd just like to go back and refresh your memory banks, here's the link.
I think I will not use turkey. Believe I'll try beef, instead. Also, I like mushrooms. I wonder how those would work? Could they be simmered along with all of the other ingredients in a crock pot?
Doesn't that look absolutely scrumptious?
Here's the recipe ...
1 pound ground turkey, browned
1 envelope taco seasoning mix
1 envelope ranch dressing mix
1 large can diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can green chilies, undrained
1 can whole kernel corn, undrained
1 can black beans, undrained
1 can sliced black olives, drained
1 onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
Place ingredients in a crock pot, stir and add just enough water to cover everything. Cook on low all day or on high for about 4 hours. Top individual bowls of soup with a dollop of sour cream, if desired.
Tammy adds, "I would imagine this would be fine simmering in a large pot on the stove all day. Also, it would be delicious without meat, too."
I intend to try this when our weather cools down a bit. I'll be using RO*TEL's cans of diced tomatoes and green chilies, instead. Too bad they don't have the RO*TEL brand up there in Idaho. You might recall that I first wrote about RO*TEL this past January, when I was talking about a really neat recipe for chili. If you missed that post and would like a tried and tested chili recipe, or if you'd just like to go back and refresh your memory banks, here's the link.
I think I will not use turkey. Believe I'll try beef, instead. Also, I like mushrooms. I wonder how those would work? Could they be simmered along with all of the other ingredients in a crock pot?
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Dibs and dabs
[Saturday afternoon - late] I'll begin this today and finish sometime tomorrow, probably.
First off, tho, I feel obliged to say
That I'll root for my Astros, come what may
Even if they appear downtrodden
I'll still be here. They're not forgotten.
I'll be watching tonight and tomorrow
Let's hope that both games do not end in sorrow.
All limericks and poor attempts at poetry aside - and it's a bit difficult to put them aside, I'm finding. Once Goldenrod gets started on a new kick, it's really difficult to stop her until she's exhausted everyone's (including her own!) patience.
[Sunday afternoon - late] Don't know if any of you read the limerick that Tammy composed for me - which was the subject of my last post - or not, but sometimes it almost seems as tho she can see me from way over there in Idaho and knows what's really going on.
I've been battling, for the past week or so, an infection that I thought was going to hospitalize me Thursday evening. Finally, tho, it seems to be getting under control, but it sure scared me!
Fortunately, the antibiotics I've been taking are in swallowable form (very similar in size and shape to Contac, which I've never had any trouble swallowing!) - which, as you might remember, is a real bugaboo for me.
Not really a whole lot going on. I've been getting a lot of sleep and am eating again ... ... lots of fruit. This is a great time of year to crave fruit!
Hope all of you are enjoying your weekend, and I'll talk atcha again real soon!
First off, tho, I feel obliged to say
That I'll root for my Astros, come what may
Even if they appear downtrodden
I'll still be here. They're not forgotten.
I'll be watching tonight and tomorrow
Let's hope that both games do not end in sorrow.
All limericks and poor attempts at poetry aside - and it's a bit difficult to put them aside, I'm finding. Once Goldenrod gets started on a new kick, it's really difficult to stop her until she's exhausted everyone's (including her own!) patience.
[Sunday afternoon - late] Don't know if any of you read the limerick that Tammy composed for me - which was the subject of my last post - or not, but sometimes it almost seems as tho she can see me from way over there in Idaho and knows what's really going on.
I've been battling, for the past week or so, an infection that I thought was going to hospitalize me Thursday evening. Finally, tho, it seems to be getting under control, but it sure scared me!
Fortunately, the antibiotics I've been taking are in swallowable form (very similar in size and shape to Contac, which I've never had any trouble swallowing!) - which, as you might remember, is a real bugaboo for me.
Not really a whole lot going on. I've been getting a lot of sleep and am eating again ... ... lots of fruit. This is a great time of year to crave fruit!
Hope all of you are enjoying your weekend, and I'll talk atcha again real soon!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Lawdy, lawdy, lawdy, lawdy ... ...
... but this is one of the funniest home videos I've ever seen!
Why ever did Chuck choose to post this on his site? (I have no idea - maybe he's planning a wedding? ... you'd have to ask him, but I'm so glad that he did!)
Doesn't this kind of remind you - more than a little bit, probably - of a couple of videos on YouTube of staged group dancing in various bus or train terminals around the world? In particular, the one I'm thinking about occurred in London this past January. Here it is (that is, if I haven't done something really stupid with my computer's memory banks) ... ...
There's another one, too, that I saw recently, but I can't find it. Oh well, you get the idea, I'll betcha!
I just got off the phone with Evelyn Berger, one of my regular bridge partners, and we have scheduled a date to play this coming Monday.
While we were on the phone, she was telling me stories of some of her recent mishaps, and I interrupted her by saying, "Stop, Evelyn! I just can't take notes fast enough!! Can you possibly write some of these down between now and Monday and then I'll put them in my blog (sans her name, of course!)?"
She said "Yes, I can!" Don't you just love it? Rrvit, rrvit and rrvit some more!!
Wonderful woman! She thinks she's old and doddering and that her stories have only to do with her age. No, no and no again, Evelyn! Your stories are timeless and have nothing to do with age, I can guarantee you!! (And you, my dear readers, will have some absolutely delightful stories to look forward to.)
Why ever did Chuck choose to post this on his site? (I have no idea - maybe he's planning a wedding? ... you'd have to ask him, but I'm so glad that he did!)
Doesn't this kind of remind you - more than a little bit, probably - of a couple of videos on YouTube of staged group dancing in various bus or train terminals around the world? In particular, the one I'm thinking about occurred in London this past January. Here it is (that is, if I haven't done something really stupid with my computer's memory banks) ... ...
There's another one, too, that I saw recently, but I can't find it. Oh well, you get the idea, I'll betcha!
I just got off the phone with Evelyn Berger, one of my regular bridge partners, and we have scheduled a date to play this coming Monday.
While we were on the phone, she was telling me stories of some of her recent mishaps, and I interrupted her by saying, "Stop, Evelyn! I just can't take notes fast enough!! Can you possibly write some of these down between now and Monday and then I'll put them in my blog (sans her name, of course!)?"
She said "Yes, I can!" Don't you just love it? Rrvit, rrvit and rrvit some more!!
Wonderful woman! She thinks she's old and doddering and that her stories have only to do with her age. No, no and no again, Evelyn! Your stories are timeless and have nothing to do with age, I can guarantee you!! (And you, my dear readers, will have some absolutely delightful stories to look forward to.)
Monday, July 20, 2009
Inspirations
I have a dear, dear friend ... one whom I have never met, but one whom I consider very dear ... who has recently undergone radical breast surgery (her second time around with this dreaded disease that we commonly term 'cancer') and is trying to recover from trying to rid her body of its latest alien invasion.
She is my age! She talks about 'having to take naps now' - whereas before the surgery she didn't, she says.
I'd like to share with you a couple of e-mails that she recently sent. This first one, titled "If my body were a car", goes like this ... ...
If my body were a car, this is the time I would be thinking about trading it in for a newer model. I've got bumps and dents and scratches in my finish and my paint job is getting a little dull, but that's not the worst of it.
My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see things up close. My traction is not as graceful as it once was. I slip and slide and skid and bump into things, even in the best of weather.
My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins. It takes me hours to reach my maximum speed. My fuel burns inefficiently, but here's the worst of it ... ... Almost every time I sneeze, cough, or laugh, either my radiator leaks or my exhaust backfires!
Not enough of an inspiration for you? Try THIS one! It's called "Smiles or groans" ... ...
1. The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much 'pi'.
2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.
3. She was only a whiskey maker, but he loved her still.
4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from Algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.
5. The butcher backed into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.
6. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.
7. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.
8. A grenade, thrown into a kitchen in France, would result in Linoleum Blownaparte.
9. Two silkworms were in a race. It ended up in a tie.
10. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
11. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.
12. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
13. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other, "You stay here. I'll go on a-head."
14. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.
15. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said, "Keep Off the Grass".
16. A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital. When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was, the nurse said, "No change yet."
17. A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.
18. The short fortune teller who escaped from prison was a "small medium at-large".
19. The man who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a 'seasoned' veteran.
20. A backward poet writes 'in-verse'.
21. In democracy, it's your vote that counts. In feudalism, it's your count that votes.
22. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.
What could I possibly add to these? Nothing of worth, certainly!
She is my age! She talks about 'having to take naps now' - whereas before the surgery she didn't, she says.
I'd like to share with you a couple of e-mails that she recently sent. This first one, titled "If my body were a car", goes like this ... ...
If my body were a car, this is the time I would be thinking about trading it in for a newer model. I've got bumps and dents and scratches in my finish and my paint job is getting a little dull, but that's not the worst of it.
My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see things up close. My traction is not as graceful as it once was. I slip and slide and skid and bump into things, even in the best of weather.
My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins. It takes me hours to reach my maximum speed. My fuel burns inefficiently, but here's the worst of it ... ... Almost every time I sneeze, cough, or laugh, either my radiator leaks or my exhaust backfires!
Not enough of an inspiration for you? Try THIS one! It's called "Smiles or groans" ... ...
1. The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much 'pi'.
2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.
3. She was only a whiskey maker, but he loved her still.
4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from Algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.
5. The butcher backed into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.
6. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.
7. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.
8. A grenade, thrown into a kitchen in France, would result in Linoleum Blownaparte.
9. Two silkworms were in a race. It ended up in a tie.
10. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
11. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.
12. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
13. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other, "You stay here. I'll go on a-head."
14. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.
15. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said, "Keep Off the Grass".
16. A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital. When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was, the nurse said, "No change yet."
17. A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.
18. The short fortune teller who escaped from prison was a "small medium at-large".
19. The man who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a 'seasoned' veteran.
20. A backward poet writes 'in-verse'.
21. In democracy, it's your vote that counts. In feudalism, it's your count that votes.
22. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.
What could I possibly add to these? Nothing of worth, certainly!
Friday, July 10, 2009
More scattered thoughts
Well, it's Friday. My cell phone chose to 'give up the ghost completely' mid-afternoon yesterday, and I spent most of the rest of that day stewing and moaning and groaning about that fact. At one point, I even went so far as to go next door to use my 'dreaded' next-door neighbor's phone.
(An aside here. Goldang, but he's good-looking. He's my son-in-law's age, too, for crying out loud! Down, Goldenrod, DOWN!! And don't you dare for even one half of one second try to imagine I feel 'that way' about my son-in-law. I DON'T, OK? I mean, my son-in-law is one heck of a terrific guy, but he's just not 'my type'. "What type is that?" you might well ask. My only answer would be that I know the 'type' when I see it. How do you like THAT answer for nondescript?)
I tried to correspond with my daughter via e-mail, but - as luck would have it - about the same time, she discovered that she was unable to send e-mails. Wouldn't you just know it? Dear lord!
ANYhoo, I traveled west to Katydid-land in the evening and my son-in-law provided me with an "extra" cell phone that he had, along with a new battery and a spare (for 'just in case') ... ... where does he get all these "extras" from, anyway?? (Might this be a case of 'don't ask, don't tell'?) In addition, he was able to re-program my "new" phone to my cell phone number. Sneaky little devil, isn't he? (LUV these sneaky little devils, particularly when they're on my side!)
As an added plus, I was able to watch my Astros soundly defeat the Washington Nationals in the second of two games ... the first one of which was a carryover from an early May suspended game (in Washington) in the bottom of the 11th inning, I think it was, with the score tied at 10 apiece. The game was over within five minutes of its resumed start, when 'Pudge' Rodriguez (our catcher) made an errant throw of what probably would have been an almost 'automatic' double play to end the inning and send the game to the 12th. As it was, however, the 'bad guys' scored the winning run and the game was over. Oh, my!
New topic ... ... I woke up several hours ago and tried to make my usual 'rounds' of the bathroom, fresh coffee, coming in here to see whatall was 'new' and so forth and so on with my computer and e-mails and such, only to discover that - when I tried to flush the toilet, there were these very strange gurgling noises. "Oh, come on now," I thought, "surely they don't have the water turned off!"
But, 'they' did - and for the next at least three hours, as it turned out. I had planned to wash the dishes and do a couple of loads of laundry - not to mention take a shower and wash the stench off of myself! As it was, I found myself in another 'snit' and ready to do battle with the first person/insect/cloud/whatever that appeared. (Fortunately, none appeared.)
My question is, and I put it to you ... ... When you're paying more than $175/month for 'maintenance', is it too much to ask that the Association inform you when they are going to turn your water off?
Water's back on. I'm still in a somewhat-rotten mood, but it's improving even as I write this.
It's going on 3pm. The powers that be have changed "Fantasy Island" to begin an hour later, so I've got to go. It'll be coming on any second now and I need to close and publish this quickly. Later!
(An aside here. Goldang, but he's good-looking. He's my son-in-law's age, too, for crying out loud! Down, Goldenrod, DOWN!! And don't you dare for even one half of one second try to imagine I feel 'that way' about my son-in-law. I DON'T, OK? I mean, my son-in-law is one heck of a terrific guy, but he's just not 'my type'. "What type is that?" you might well ask. My only answer would be that I know the 'type' when I see it. How do you like THAT answer for nondescript?)
I tried to correspond with my daughter via e-mail, but - as luck would have it - about the same time, she discovered that she was unable to send e-mails. Wouldn't you just know it? Dear lord!
ANYhoo, I traveled west to Katydid-land in the evening and my son-in-law provided me with an "extra" cell phone that he had, along with a new battery and a spare (for 'just in case') ... ... where does he get all these "extras" from, anyway?? (Might this be a case of 'don't ask, don't tell'?) In addition, he was able to re-program my "new" phone to my cell phone number. Sneaky little devil, isn't he? (LUV these sneaky little devils, particularly when they're on my side!)
As an added plus, I was able to watch my Astros soundly defeat the Washington Nationals in the second of two games ... the first one of which was a carryover from an early May suspended game (in Washington) in the bottom of the 11th inning, I think it was, with the score tied at 10 apiece. The game was over within five minutes of its resumed start, when 'Pudge' Rodriguez (our catcher) made an errant throw of what probably would have been an almost 'automatic' double play to end the inning and send the game to the 12th. As it was, however, the 'bad guys' scored the winning run and the game was over. Oh, my!
New topic ... ... I woke up several hours ago and tried to make my usual 'rounds' of the bathroom, fresh coffee, coming in here to see whatall was 'new' and so forth and so on with my computer and e-mails and such, only to discover that - when I tried to flush the toilet, there were these very strange gurgling noises. "Oh, come on now," I thought, "surely they don't have the water turned off!"
But, 'they' did - and for the next at least three hours, as it turned out. I had planned to wash the dishes and do a couple of loads of laundry - not to mention take a shower and wash the stench off of myself! As it was, I found myself in another 'snit' and ready to do battle with the first person/insect/cloud/whatever that appeared. (Fortunately, none appeared.)
My question is, and I put it to you ... ... When you're paying more than $175/month for 'maintenance', is it too much to ask that the Association inform you when they are going to turn your water off?
Water's back on. I'm still in a somewhat-rotten mood, but it's improving even as I write this.
It's going on 3pm. The powers that be have changed "Fantasy Island" to begin an hour later, so I've got to go. It'll be coming on any second now and I need to close and publish this quickly. Later!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
By His Own Design
I have truly lived and opened every door I possibly could to realize my potential and satisfy my desire for inner expression. What age would you say the person who wrote that is? Does that sound to you like a person who has lived a very long and fulfilling life?
When I read those words very early this morning, I was reminded of a documentary I saw on PBS recently, "By His Own Design" - the story of Emile Norman, a California artist. Have you ever seen this film? I had seen it once before, and felt fortunate to have the opportunity to watch it again.
Norman's life story is fascinating. The documentary tells about some of his growing-up years, the eventual estrangement from his parents, his first meeting with Brooks Clement ... ...
and the home and extraordinary life they built together at Big Sur. This documentary was filmed when Norman was 88 years old and is as beautifully-crafted a piece of work as Norman's art.
[The makers of this film occasionally had difficulty cornering the artist at long enough intervals to complete various segments of the documentary. Norman felt they were cutting into his available 'creative energy time'. However, whatever lingering frustrated memories they might have had vanished completely when they learned that Norman had written in his diary, "I just saw the film. Wow, wow, wow!"]
You can read more about Norman's life here and view some of his artwork, many pieces of which are currently for sale, on his home website. Yes, he's still working at age 90! In fact, he says, "If I'm not working, call 911!"
The words I quoted at the top of this post were not written by Emile Norman. They were written by Craig Peihopa - our Australian blogger friend, who is more than 40 years Norman's junior - in his most recent post.
Craig is in the prime of his life, and is well on his way to realizing his potential and satisfying his desire for inner expression.
When I read those words very early this morning, I was reminded of a documentary I saw on PBS recently, "By His Own Design" - the story of Emile Norman, a California artist. Have you ever seen this film? I had seen it once before, and felt fortunate to have the opportunity to watch it again.
Norman's life story is fascinating. The documentary tells about some of his growing-up years, the eventual estrangement from his parents, his first meeting with Brooks Clement ... ...
and the home and extraordinary life they built together at Big Sur. This documentary was filmed when Norman was 88 years old and is as beautifully-crafted a piece of work as Norman's art.
[The makers of this film occasionally had difficulty cornering the artist at long enough intervals to complete various segments of the documentary. Norman felt they were cutting into his available 'creative energy time'. However, whatever lingering frustrated memories they might have had vanished completely when they learned that Norman had written in his diary, "I just saw the film. Wow, wow, wow!"]
You can read more about Norman's life here and view some of his artwork, many pieces of which are currently for sale, on his home website. Yes, he's still working at age 90! In fact, he says, "If I'm not working, call 911!"
The words I quoted at the top of this post were not written by Emile Norman. They were written by Craig Peihopa - our Australian blogger friend, who is more than 40 years Norman's junior - in his most recent post.
Craig is in the prime of his life, and is well on his way to realizing his potential and satisfying his desire for inner expression.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Personal comments on "Life lessons"
I turned 72 yesterday, but did not publish a post. In fact, I didn't even answer the phone after my bridge partner called just two hours prior to game time and cancelled our game, saying that he wanted to spend time with his family on Father's Day. (Said he hadn't realized it would be Father's Day when he made the date - just the day before.)
This reaction is very much like me, I'm afraid. I do not follow enough of either Erma Bombeck's or Regina Brett's precepts. I sometimes tend to wallow in self-pity. This is a terribly unattractive trait, but one I possess -- unfortunately.
This post will not - or should not! - be a depressing one. However, it will be of a reflective nature. I've gotten some sleep and today is another day, right? There's an expression in Spanish that I dearly love ... "Manana es otro dia!" ... "Tomorrow is another day!" Well, this is tomorrow.
[Just a few days ago, I'd begun doing research on the qualities/characteristics of a "Gemini", and had intended to do a post on that for my birthday. Then, as occasionally happens with me on "important" days/dates/events/occasions, I couldn't bring myself to do such a post. That old 'depression gremlin' sneaking up on me again, I guess.]
But let's move on. There are several points from Regina Brett's "Life lessons" (published earlier today) that I'd like to expand upon.
Numbers 5 (Pay off your credit cards every month.) and 9 (Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.) ... ... My parents tried to impress the importance of those on me. My first husband tried to impress the importance of those on me. Not one of them made even the slightest impression! Where the devil was I? Pie in the sky? Head in the clouds? Live happily ever after? Who knows?!? I have paid dearly for those mistakes in the past and am living ... not all that unhappily most of the time - in fact, have almost forgiven myself and 'moved on' to the present, but am not all that sure about #42 (The best is yet to come.)
#7 (Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.) ... I have discovered that everyone wants to hear about your problems. It makes them feel better about their own! [One of the worst things about living alone is that there is no one to share the good news with!] That's kind of a sad truism about life, isn't it? We seem to thrive on others' misfortunes in an effort to take attention away from our own! But let's get back to the point of #7.
Years ago, when I was in therapy, my counselor shared with me a story about herself. It seems that she was in her apartment, sad, all alone and crying. She decided to go out to the neighborhood bar and continue her cry. One person after another tried to join her to offer some sympathy. None succeeded. She wanted to be alone in her misery, but not all alone! Does that make any sense to you? It does to me, but maybe you'd have to have 'been there done that'.
#11 (Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.) ... I've tried to do that. Am getting better, I think. Hopefully!
#14 (If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.) ... I referenced this one in my "I am so frustrated!" post of a couple of days ago. I've been guilty of extra-marital relationships in the past and am not proud of them. In fact, I wrote about some of these last year (or was it earlier this year? - it would have been in one of my "Memories of my mother" posts, I think) and have some personal knowledge of the damage they can do - not only to the relationship itself, but to the individual person involved.
Jacky sent me an e-mail - she was sorry to have missed my call, she said - wherein she echoed Al's advice to let him go (and perhaps lose his wife's newly-acquired friendship in the process). He would never understand, she iterated, that I was simply inquiring, hoping to renew a long ago remembrance with someone I'd known intimately and had fond memories of, but was not interested in a continuing relationship other than that of friendship.
#21 (Burn the candles. Use the nice sheets. Wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save them for a special occasion. Today is special.) ... Shades of Erma Bombeck here. Wonderful woman!
#23 (Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.) ... There's a kind of neat series on television right now ... ... well, shoot! I've just looked through all of the listings for this week and can't find it, so maybe it's not 'on right now' ... ... Anyway, it is/was called (something like) "Don't Eat the Daisies" -- "Pushing Daisies"?? ... a far-out premise, but in there are these two "little old ladies" who wear purple (or whatever other darned color they feel like wearing and who are funny as all get out!) ... ... Okay now, where was I? Oh, yes! On the subject of wearing purple.
I had on my refrigerator for years and years a poem one of my art clients gave me. (I can't find it, wouldn't you just know it? And I've looked!) She thought I 'wore purple' ... in other words, she thought I was eccentric and liked me all the better for it. (Worse yet, I can't even remember her name. Oh, well!)
#29 (What other people think of you is none of your business.) ... I've never heard that before, and I love it!
In fact, I like it so much that I'll end this post with that thought. Hope each and every one of you is having a good one!
This reaction is very much like me, I'm afraid. I do not follow enough of either Erma Bombeck's or Regina Brett's precepts. I sometimes tend to wallow in self-pity. This is a terribly unattractive trait, but one I possess -- unfortunately.
This post will not - or should not! - be a depressing one. However, it will be of a reflective nature. I've gotten some sleep and today is another day, right? There's an expression in Spanish that I dearly love ... "Manana es otro dia!" ... "Tomorrow is another day!" Well, this is tomorrow.
[Just a few days ago, I'd begun doing research on the qualities/characteristics of a "Gemini", and had intended to do a post on that for my birthday. Then, as occasionally happens with me on "important" days/dates/events/occasions, I couldn't bring myself to do such a post. That old 'depression gremlin' sneaking up on me again, I guess.]
But let's move on. There are several points from Regina Brett's "Life lessons" (published earlier today) that I'd like to expand upon.
Numbers 5 (Pay off your credit cards every month.) and 9 (Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.) ... ... My parents tried to impress the importance of those on me. My first husband tried to impress the importance of those on me. Not one of them made even the slightest impression! Where the devil was I? Pie in the sky? Head in the clouds? Live happily ever after? Who knows?!? I have paid dearly for those mistakes in the past and am living ... not all that unhappily most of the time - in fact, have almost forgiven myself and 'moved on' to the present, but am not all that sure about #42 (The best is yet to come.)
#7 (Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.) ... I have discovered that everyone wants to hear about your problems. It makes them feel better about their own! [One of the worst things about living alone is that there is no one to share the good news with!] That's kind of a sad truism about life, isn't it? We seem to thrive on others' misfortunes in an effort to take attention away from our own! But let's get back to the point of #7.
Years ago, when I was in therapy, my counselor shared with me a story about herself. It seems that she was in her apartment, sad, all alone and crying. She decided to go out to the neighborhood bar and continue her cry. One person after another tried to join her to offer some sympathy. None succeeded. She wanted to be alone in her misery, but not all alone! Does that make any sense to you? It does to me, but maybe you'd have to have 'been there done that'.
#11 (Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.) ... I've tried to do that. Am getting better, I think. Hopefully!
#14 (If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.) ... I referenced this one in my "I am so frustrated!" post of a couple of days ago. I've been guilty of extra-marital relationships in the past and am not proud of them. In fact, I wrote about some of these last year (or was it earlier this year? - it would have been in one of my "Memories of my mother" posts, I think) and have some personal knowledge of the damage they can do - not only to the relationship itself, but to the individual person involved.
Jacky sent me an e-mail - she was sorry to have missed my call, she said - wherein she echoed Al's advice to let him go (and perhaps lose his wife's newly-acquired friendship in the process). He would never understand, she iterated, that I was simply inquiring, hoping to renew a long ago remembrance with someone I'd known intimately and had fond memories of, but was not interested in a continuing relationship other than that of friendship.
#21 (Burn the candles. Use the nice sheets. Wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save them for a special occasion. Today is special.) ... Shades of Erma Bombeck here. Wonderful woman!
#23 (Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.) ... There's a kind of neat series on television right now ... ... well, shoot! I've just looked through all of the listings for this week and can't find it, so maybe it's not 'on right now' ... ... Anyway, it is/was called (something like) "Don't Eat the Daisies" -- "Pushing Daisies"?? ... a far-out premise, but in there are these two "little old ladies" who wear purple (or whatever other darned color they feel like wearing and who are funny as all get out!) ... ... Okay now, where was I? Oh, yes! On the subject of wearing purple.
I had on my refrigerator for years and years a poem one of my art clients gave me. (I can't find it, wouldn't you just know it? And I've looked!) She thought I 'wore purple' ... in other words, she thought I was eccentric and liked me all the better for it. (Worse yet, I can't even remember her name. Oh, well!)
#29 (What other people think of you is none of your business.) ... I've never heard that before, and I love it!
In fact, I like it so much that I'll end this post with that thought. Hope each and every one of you is having a good one!
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