Being in the 'Now'

How many times have you heard your parents say: "Now, in my day we......"? What was/is your very first reaction? C'mon admit it, set yourself free. It's 'cringe' isn't it? Or 'dread'? Whichever descriptive word you prefer. Your insides clench knowing for the most part you are about to hear something you really aren't interested in or that you have already heard several times before in one form or another. The second? It's all right you can say it now. Remember you are among friends who understand. Your eyes roll. I guessed it, didn't I? You try and hide it by looking away for a moment so they won't see you do it. But you can't just help yourself. And the third and final stage of coping is the emphasized exhale. The volume not loud enough for the story teller to hear but just enough for your satisfaction to be fulfilled. We all do these because we sincerely don't want to be rude. We can't hold up our hand and say "Stop!" because we have been introduced to this tale on previous occasions or we know we are about to be bored beyond tears or simply we have no interest in this particular scenario. The underlying purpose for the above is to provide a few nano seconds for our minds to place an invisible cushion between our frustration and our patience which enables us to listen attentively with a smile firmly planted on our face thus diverting any hurt feelings. At least that's the concept I have fashioned over time to protect my own sanity.

Now playing Devil's Advocate and analyzing the flip-side, how many times have you caught yourself repeating that infamous intro line to your kids? Do you become a screaming mimi realizing you HAVE become your parents!!?!! It has now truly happened and you swore it NEVER EVER EVER would!!!??!!!! Or is it actually part of every person's DNA? There is a gene that forces us to start using that when we reach a certain age. We have absolutely no control at all. It could be a possibility, you know. Wouldn't that be convenient if it were true! But, alas, I fear that is a wish, a fantasy (darn it all!).

I am here to fortuitously sprinkle some of my famous Happy Fairy Dust (HFD) over your head to ease your pain and to assure you there is a way to stop that annoying generational trend. How can we, as the masses who want to end this thousands-of-years-old-tiresome-generational-habit, turn the corner to a unveil a shockingly new and fresh next-thousands-of-years-old-generational-mindset?

Stay current. Be in the 'Now'. Then practice what you are learning. Converse with your kids, your partner, your lunch buddies. It's as simple as that. Starting right this very minute use a new application on your PC, surf YouTube, listen to a radio station that plays the Top 40, go to exhibits at museums and galleries, subscribe to a new magazine that features trendy (not meaningless 'fluff' but current, timely events) articles, catch a new TV series, try new recipes or go to that little bistro that opened up around the corner, buy the HUGELY thick September issue of Vogue and see what's predicted for spring. Do not wait until tomorrow. Do not profess false and insincere intentions. I'm telling you this will only work if we start a grassroots push through our connected personal networks. (Wouldn't that be way cool if two or three or ten generations from now those folks could point to a time line and say that in 2009 there was a torque in the American culture that brought about change?? We would be famous!!!)

Are you with me?? I am your friend, your relative, your neighbor, your acquaintance. Take my advice. I promise that if you do you will be happier. If you listen and do what I say your life will be easier, better. Wait!! What just happened?? OH NO!! I DO SOUND LIKE MY MOTHER!!!!!!!!!

A Well Written Book - The Love/Hate Conundrum

Do you remember turning to the last page of a book and thinking, "NOOOO!!! I'm not ready to say goodbye!! Come back!!" Your heart was sad. Your fingers weren't ready to stop turning pages. You felt bereft. Lonely. Like you were in a canoe in the middle of a lake with no paddles and no buddies to row with. Just you. Sitting in the boat. Wanting to keep going and going and goi......

The colorful collection of characters cast their spell into the very core of you, binding your imagination to their story. Drawing your mind into their world making their reality yours. You become a silent partner. A witness. Isn't that the true measure of a treasured tome? You plunge into each paragraph. The next chapter. You love and hate and bleed and sleep and laugh and eat. You discover a whole new collection of trusted friends. Of dreaded enemies. The plot finds you sweating in the heat, exhausted in the fields, satisfied after the feast, splashing in the brook, crying about the loss, smiling at the joke, caught in the awe of a magnificent sunrise and the resplendent glory of a sunset.

The twist of a phrase. The placement of the perfect adjective. The unanticipated surprise revealed in a BURST. The richly painted cerebral images of the characters. All artfully mixed and swirled into one glorious tale. To anticipate. To savor. To captivate. To fascinate. To entertain. To leave you wanting more.

Oprah Winfrey, Where are You?

Remember your first day on campus as a freshman? You were feeling pretty darned cool. You had taking your first step into your future and life was good. I was going to major in Art History and go on to be a world-renown expert in either Baroque Arts (emphasis on the genius of Bernini) or Jewelry (specifically Faberge) OR add Archeology as a co-major and dedicate my life to discover the next greatest tomb or temple. But my parents politely told me they would not support a major that did not have proven odds in my favor that would lead to a paying job. So not having the funds to support my own 4-year college degree I acquiesced changing my focus to Nursing then to Floriculture. I have loved all the designing and commentating and awards in my floral career but my heart still wistfully feels the "what if" of being established at Christies or Sothebys OR conducting a dig in Eygpt or Greece...... Part of the self-prescribed cure? I envision myself at a dig ripe with fabulous potential highlighted in Smithsonian magazine. And there I am!! Dust covered, heart racing, huge grin, excitement running high holding up some beautifully handcrafted ancient artifact that I had just plucked from the ground.

That was then. This is now and my Big-Girl dream is to be a writer. Actually it is more of an obsession. This blog would be incredible if it led to the chance for me to be a contributor to a newspaper or magazine (in print or on their website) AND writing the eleven books ~ three for kids and eight for adults that are living and growing in my head.. (Clarification: "Adults" meaning 'not children' as opposed to 'x-rated'). Plus I can keep my day job while I enjoy this new and exciting path of possibilities. I can think of one other wonderful avenue that could come to life: A fairy godmother.

Hey, Oprah! I am an energetic, hard-working adult who would love to be discovered by you. I would gratefully accept with sincere thanks a grant from you so I could write full-time and YOU would get the rights to publish the books and produce the movies sure to follow. What a great partnership!! If anyone reading this has a connection, an "in" personally or through another with this lady who likes to discover, support and encourage new talent PLEASE tell her about me. I would be more than happy to go to Chicago to meet her, write for her magazine, be an addition to her list of successes. Or if you know a publisher, editor or manager in the print field I am extending the same request for exposure to them to show them what I've got.

I do believe that Dreams can come true. So if any of you could give mine a shove I would be ecstatic!! and crazy appreciative!! and eternally grateful!! Tell the staff you have discovered a lady who would add spice and humor and thought-provoking tidbits in a little column space. Really! I'm not very big. I wouldn't take up much space. Send an email to oprah.com or MAKE THAT CALL!!! What are you waiting for??

Age Appropriate

Am I talking about movies with naked people? Nah. Perhaps television shows in the afternoon that feature cussing and disrespect? Nope. Then maybe I am referring to books that are explicit in their descriptions of intimate moments? No, no, and no.

I am in the prime of my life. You know, those wonderful confident years where you're past trying to figure out who you are. You like yourself. You have crafted your own style. You can hold conversations with ease. You handle your job with aplomb. You face challenges knowing you already know part of the answers.

BUT when I wake up in the morning and see a pimple on my chin that is when I lose it. WHY ME?? I am way past the turbulent years of a teen. Heck I have to use moisturizer now -- twice a day --just to try to keep the lines and dry skin at bay. So where oh where did that little surprise come from?

Not fair. Not fair. Not fair. I keep repeating to myself. Already paid my dues. So what do I do? I use the old trick I discovered for myself. Take a little liquid makeup and dab it on top. Dries it the fastest way possible. Simple. No fancy expensive products. I just have to be three days patient. RATS!! I hate being patient!!! (Oops...stay calm...act your age....)

Ignorance IS Bliss

Now don't get yourself all up in a huff. You are probably thinking, "What do you mean 'ignorance is bliss'??? In this day and age with the internet and kids and cells and...and...and... You can't ignore the world. You have to be diligent and listen and read and be current." I totally agree with you. TOTALLY. Give me a second to explain where I'm coming from.

I met a gentleman last evening who is a publisher of a magazine. Do I know anything about publishing? All the jargon and the deadlines and the pressures of that industry's competition and the organization of putting a monthly together and the hierarchy of staff and.... No, I don't. I am ignorant. I sat listening to his presentation realizing that in the time frame he was given I had just been exposed to the mere tip of the iceberg. But I was learning. I was blissfully learning.

My young adult son just had his tonsils removed. Did I know anything about tonsils? Sure, I know they are located in your throat and I had mine extracted when I was five. I was satisfied with that. But do you know what I found out this week? Tonsils get pitted by Mono and Strept. Food settles in those and harden becoming what is known as Concretions or Tonsilliths. You can actually see these white 'pearls' when you look in someone's throat. Did you know they pop out on occasion? Did you know tonsils get warts? Aha! They do indeed. I didn't have any idea. I was ignorant. I blissfully learned.

Flip a coin. On the one side Ignorance gives us the precious opportunity to keep growing, to soak up information and knowledge for ourselves alone or to share with others. Then there is the darker flip side where this chance is shunned, ignored. Even reviled. I urge you to keep your eyes and ears and mind open to absorb all things new. Makes this journey of life much more interesting and makes you more interesting to be around. For instance when you play Trivial Pursuit next time and the question is: What are concretions? You'll know!!! and you can astound your fellow players when you sweep them by casually saying the right answer!! They will be shaking their heads mumbling "how did she know that?"and you will be sitting there smiling ever so sweetly.

Not Before 70 If Ever

A very funny gentleman I know was talking about age during our last conversation. He recently had both knees replaced. We were sharing how time passes quickly and that the body changes without any warning. This big smile grew on his face and his eyes twinkled as his hands pointed toward his chest when he laughingly said "There's an 18 year old inside thinking 'What happened??!?'''.

Age has become a big issue with me. I am NOT ready for what has begun to change. So I have come up with a proposal for future generations. First, no white hairs of any kind will appear before the age of 70 if ever.. Second, no 'erosion lines' (clever, huh?, yet so descriptive) shall appear on a lady's chest appearing to run down into her cleavage if ever. Third, no crepe paper- like skin will appear on thighs before the age of 70 if ever. Fourth, upper arms will not resemble cottage cheese before the age of 70 if ever. Fifth,no joint or muscle aches before the age of 70 if ever. Sixth, No dark skin spots will appear before the age of 70 if ever. Seventh, hearing and sight will remain unimpaired before 70. Period. And Eighth, and most important, menopause will begin on a woman's 50th birthday lasting two weeks. That's it. Not a minute more. And for those 14 days the woman will choose a resort of her choice where she will reside during this difficult transition holding a fruity beverage sporting a cute little paper umbrella, enjoying a plethora of extreme pampering. She won't have to deal with little fresh-colored bumps that appear along collarbones and necks. Her nails won't break 'just because' and her eyelashes won't come out in multiples of five. Her moods will be only one: serene.

The obvious theme here is that I want to look as good on the outside as I feel on the inside. We make the effort to exercise and eat healthy and I believe we should be rewarded. Don't you agree? We have been taught since childhood that if you do your chores you earn your allowance. Or if you get good grades you earn bragging rights and the pride that comes with a job well done. So Bah Humbug! to tradition. Be gone! to bad genes. (~thought bubble~ I'm inserting my ideas in the Heavenly Suggestion Box of Life. I wonder if anyone upstairs is listening.....)

Why is that??

You awaken in the middle of the night by that innate mother's ear that is always listening for the sounds of your children. Your eyes open quickly and your feet start to swing off the bed before you are even fully awake. You grab your robe and head to the bedroom across the hall.

It is immediately apparent that your child is going to be sick within seconds. You try to scoot them out from under their sheets in order to carry them quickly to the bathroom. Not going to happen so you turn and reach for the wastebasket. Too late! The sheets and bedspread are now a mess.

Does this phase you at all? Nope. Your husband, having been wakened by your child's crying, is now beside you ready to strip the bed while you change the pj's and softly cuddle the little one. Fresh new clothes, cool/soft sheets, tears all dried you settle the child back into bed. You and your husband return to your room. He falls easily back to sleep. You? Not so easily. You stare into the blackness concentrating on the sounds of the night. There! Your child calls "Mommy!" and off you go, again, this time successful in getting to the bathroom. You shut the door to keep your voices contained so your spouse can get his rest. Again your child empties what is left in their stomach then needs to sit on the commode. After all is done you take a cool washcloth and softly wipe their face and neck and chest to help them feel refreshed. Back to the bed, tucking the sheets around their body. You turn off the light and sit in the dark until you hear the even, relaxed breathing. Then you soundlessly go back to the bathroom to clean up the sink and commode. How easily we do this. Without even thinking about the distastefulness of it all. The protective love we feel takes us beyond the mess and the smell and the laundry. This is our baby and we will cover them with our wings keeping them from any harm. Anytime. Anywhere.

Then why is it when we have to clean up after a child that is not ours we react differently? Do we help them? Yes! Do we do whatever we must? Absolutely! But now the sensual details listed above come to play in an uncomfortable fashion and !UGH! Not so easy to ignore, are they? An observation which I was forced to confront recently and, if I may say so, carried off the diaper duty with much (gag) aplomb! Now don't get any ideas--even though I was proud of myself I have no desire to repeat the activity more than I must!