Don, the Man....a Sweet Goodbye

"Addio Papa, marito dolce e amico (Goodbye Daddy, sweet husband and friend)!  Only the passage of time, filled with warm and tender memories, comforting thoughts and friendly conversations will heal the void your passing has left." 

Don the husband, the father and friend, a vital member of our Florida family has departed his earthly body.  For those left behind, his spirit, words of wisdom, welcoming heart and devotion to all he knew, will have to suffice. Death as we know it, is far from easy.  Don's daughter Becky, pleading with her Daddy to remain strong, "we have so many more things to do, memories to make, goals to set."  It is his legacy of life that we celebrate. 

Having know this courageous man for a relatively short ten years, my thoughts wander back, yearning to have known more.  Visiting with him and his family, reading his memories in print, though small in stature, this larger than life person, has left a lasting legacy.  With out a doubt no one wants to loose a loved one, inevitably we are all touched by this unfortunate event.  Circling the wagons, we will survive.  Don was a survivor, beating insurmountable odds his entire life.  As a first lieutenant in Vietnam, where the mortality rate for these young soldiers was excessively high, Don survived.  In his early thirties, suffering major heart problems, he survived.  His first bout of cancer, again a survivor..........but complications setting in, knowing his legacy would be secure, surrounded by his family and friends, Don made his final journey, home.

We miss him, his voice, his laughter, perhaps it is his smile or words of wisdom.  In time we will realize, he is still here with us all, just in a different capacity.  Taking things for granted, is an unfortunate trait, we as humans tend to possess.  Don's home is now eternity, he is peaceful, all things are beautiful, no pain, no worrying, just the calmness of his sleep.  His soul, oh his soul, high in the heavens, still speaks to us from the chambers of our hearts......... shhh, just listen,  he is still with us.  

Flight of the Osprey

Birds have never been an object of my affection, still remembering a childhood pet, Ginger the "killer" parakeet, killing her birdcage roommate, Miss Blue, who might just have been the only feathered flier able to cure my ornithophobia (bird phobia).  Snakes, bugs, including spiders, lizards, worms, even mice and rats, may not tickle my fancy and I certainly can live without them, but I don't cringe or nearly die of heart failure if one ventures near.  Birds are best left outside, soaring high against the vibrant blue skies, being carried by the faint breezes, floating effortlessly in the opposite direction from me!

Watching the birds of prey, they rule the airspace surrounding my home.  Winter time, allowing a more in depth view of their neighborhood.  Recent showers seems to have spruced up the floor of the preserve, bordering my backyard.  Inhabitants peeking out from beneath the decaying leaves, that once were the majestic emerald green dense canopy covering this tropical oasis.  Surely they are sun-bathing, an opportunity to soak up the rays of a cooler winter sun, stretching the legs that propel them to safety.  Birds of prey are the epitome of patience, concentration and there is beauty in their flight.  Much like a monarch presiding over his fiefdom, these birds observe, slowly spanning the floor of their "kingdom," honing in on less fortunate "subjects," their attack, strategically brilliant.  As an observer, one might think it is reckless abandonment, quite the contrary. 

Circling high above the ground, the sophisticated black and white feathered Osprey appears to be enjoying his flight, his wings stretched wide, circling, he is orchestrating his planned attack. In the blink of eye, his brain signaling, "dive, dive"!  Wings back, tucked closed to his now missile shaped body, his high speed descent begins.  The hunt, a moment of precision, ultimate beauty and heart-thumping excitment, talons appear from this feathered hunter's sleek body, his target never had a chance. 

Today, observing a pair of Osprey preparing a nest, high above the ground, their dance atop the light pole suggested a sweet tenderness between the pair.  Such a stark contradiction to their mode of survival.  As parents, they nurture, discipline and teach their offspring. Errors in technique or judgment would cause devasting results.  As a child of Mother Nature, they are embodied with a love and compassion for their young, their cold-hearted precision suggests otherwise.  They are true birds of prey, the flight of the Osprey, a majestic voyage to observe, a ballet of fitness, they are the ultimate warrior, they are the victors!

Stories from the Sick Mind!

Amazing what friends and followers seem to enjoy most on this little blog.  After posting the recent blog about POOP, my inbox was flooded with a variety of comments so numerous, both enjoyable, not so enjoyable and to some extent a little on the sick side, I felt like a small child at the candy counter, trying to decide which to pick as my ultimate favorite.  Alas, sadly I cannot, but encouragement, support and outright begging for more "shitty stories" have caused a memory overload.  So, for the many "sick and deranged" open minded humorous followers and others, who enjoy the pitfalls of everyday life, don't mind sharing, agree every one poops, deals with poop or that of another, including a pet, here is the "poop" scoop!

Florida's coastline has some of the most pristine, white sand beaches anywhere.  Surprisingly and unlike the beaches of the northeast, they are not always as crowded and in some cases, thankfully so!  Even Floridans agree, the coolness of the winter months, allows the tropical tan to wane.  First hints of spring, many head to shore, fighting with the tourists and snowbirds for the perfect spot to sunbath.  An acquaintance relays the episode:  "Time to bring out the true glow of my Latin skin tone." she recalls. "Armed with lotion, a newly toned body, WHITE swimsuit, my girls and I head to the beach!"  After feeling pretty smug about claiming the best spot, she begins her ritual of lathering the skin of her daughters and herself with lotion.  Grumblings in the lower gut signal a potential dash to the restroom but........perhaps it will wait.  Sitting on the beach blanket, soaking up the warmth of the late winter sun, she feels relaxed,  just a bit of lower bowel distress.  Perhaps eeking out a bit of gas would relieve the pressure.  Sitting in sand, she feels should act as a buffer zone, allowing any noise to be absorbed.  Giving it her best shot, she has pleasant results:  no noise, no smell and tummy feels much better.  Daughters beckons Mom to come to water's edge to observe their antics.  As my friend struts her stuff, daughters splashing her with the cool salt water, she squeals with delight.  She noticed people staring, their laughter, she assumes, is watching Mom playfully enjoying her young children.  It is only as she heads back to her beach blanket with her children, one lagging behind, she truly realizes the meaning of their playful stares.  "Mommy, what did you sit in? It looks like poop on your bathing suit!" questions the innocent child.   I only have one question for the poor woman, "How did that work out for you?"

Many years back while participating in a road race, a northeastern friend felt the call of nature mid way through the race.  Sensing he wouldn't make the pit stop, he opted for a quick dash down an embankment to a nearby riverbed.  Realizing the leaf cover would protect him, his thought process being, no paper, he would need a "clean" release of his feces from his anus!  Perhaps he would position himself with buttocks heading downhill.  Holding on to branches should do the trick.  Strategic planning complete, he begins the process.  As with all well thought out plans, their is bound to be a snafu.  In his case, the branches support his weight gave way.  He recalls, rolling ass over band box down the embankment, shorts stuck around his knees.  As he landed at river's edge, thankfully, other than numerous scratches and the distinct odor of poop stuck to his bruised body (he had rolled in his own poop), he was okay.  As if on cue he removes his shirt soaking it in the river, washing away all evidence of the stinkies.  He waved goodbye to the poop stained shirt as it peacefully floated away.  Climbing back up the hill, thanking God it was ninety plus degrees, the wet shorts soothing the concealed scratches.  As I recall, my friend relaying this story, tears of laughter still rolling down my face.

My sick mind still home to many more poop revelations, in time shall be revealed.  It is every one's willingness to share that makes it all the more interesting.  Laughter at everyday happenings, especially comfort in knowing they happen to all, is the best medicine for a cloudy Florida day.

Assumptions are Just Assumptions!

Although this little blog has evolved into much more than the stories revolving around our former little restaurant in that quaint New England town, it is still the multitude of memories that swirl, colliding with new people, places and oodles of silly little quirks, habits and bits of conversation that bombard my daily life.

In the past we have talked briefly about the daily habits of our patrons.  Many of the "regular" morning patrons preferring to sit in "their" seat.  Not so different at the most Magical Place on Earth in Florida.  Some Guests visiting this massive resort, for three or more weeks at a time, with local Guests coming in at least twice a week for a favorite meal and a chance to say hello.  Much like the family atmosphere that prevailed at the now darkened Fred's News, my early morning Guests are very much of mirror image of the lively group of morning regulars at our family restaurant.  Creatures of habit, many sitting in the same location as the previous morning, while others reminiscent of Groundhog Day, eating the same meal as yesterday morning.  Same place, same time, same weather, same clothes, if it works, GO FOR IT!

What I truly enjoy is the diversity of the Guests.  Accents, clothing, tattoos pretty much all the evidence needed to your own game inside mind game of "Trivial Pursuit!"  An occasional outside the box "no way stumper" crosses my path.  Recently a very well dressed young man and woman began frequenting my location.  Speaking with a very thick French accent, my first thought naturally would be France.  Yet this young couple also wore traditional religious clothing from the Middle East, the young woman's veil one of the most exquisite pieces of fabric I have have had the privilege to gaze upon.  Simplistic in nature, unassumingly adorned, the softest Robin's egg blue, I knew I was not the only person to have noticed it's beauty.  Petite in stature, the young woman's natural beauty glowing beneath this luxurious veil. As I spoke with the young couple, their adoration for each other was most evident.  They were on a "holiday."  Perhaps their honeymoon, I remember questioning.  "On no Madame, we have been married for two years!" their laughter evident they had fooled me.  Over the course of their stay, we spoke in depth every day, I thoroughly enjoying their accents and devotion to each other.  As vegetarians, they pretty much consumed the same meals daily, their final day taking snacks for the flight home.  Not wanting to be overly invasive into their private life, I had not asked where they hailed from.  Offering them good tidings and a safe trip home, they said their flight was only a couple hours.  Ah yes, they were islanders, I assumed.  Seeing that questioning look on my face, my young female friend offers the answer.....we fly to our home in Providence, Rhode Island, we are students from the University there.  Ah yes, who would have guessed.  Their English although spoke with the accent was truly perfect.  Both had been born in America to parents of diplomats, had met in private schools and the rest is history.  Sometimes assumptions are just that, assumptions.

To Be or Not to Be- a Vegetarian

Do we or don't we? Eating habits, lifestyle preferences, health reasons, religious beliefs, what's in vogue and what's quite possibly passe, give way to the age old question, Is being a vegetarian healthier?  I'd like to think yes, it's my preference but I do not force feed it to anyone except my husband, who by the way asks another question, What's in your wallet?  His take on the highly inflated cost of a vegetarian diet.  Perhaps, but even he admits, eating fresh, less fat related foods and almost no processed foods, does appear to give him more energy.  Using the word appear, in no way, constitutes a commitment on his part. Two weeks (fourteen days), I remind him, will not begin a new life time habit of eating healthier. Twenty eight days and he'd have a good start.  In his world, there are two completely different parallel paths, his train of thought versus mine.  Understand, the admission of parallel paths pretty much means "Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter, quite like unrequited love!" Thank you Charlie Brown!  I love the thought of a healthier lifestyle, unfortunately his thoughts are not reciprocated.

Being a vegetarian does not necessarily make you the healthiest person on earth.  As the unhealthy better half mentions, "I have smoked my whole life," and .....! "And what?" is the sarcastic snap back that has just jumped from my stunned and frustrated being.  Perhaps in his world it's okay but not mine.  He has managed to win the battle of bladder cancer, I remind him, "This is quite possibly the first battle."  His doctor also mentions, "there is a direct link between bladder cancer and smoking."  What is he not processing here?  Too much red meat, sticky buns, cheese danish, bacon, potato chips and gallons of carbonate high sugar drinks, have also ruined his ears!  "But honey, I like them, I've been eating that stuff.........."  The battle continues on all fronts.  A quick reminder of a recent comment I overheard him making to a candidate running for the Board of Directors at our community, I too was on that ballot, "she is the most sweetest, stubborn, toughest person I have ever met!" That boy "ain't seen nothing yet!"  My two year term began last week!

Unlike religion, which should be every one's choice, no one's God is any better than another,  my case for being a vegetarian is packed with fact filled reasons.   According to the book "Eat Right 4 Your Type" by Dr. Peter J. D'Adamo, people with different blood types process foods differently.  My type A, flourish on vegetarian diets.  Ironically, everything that is supposedly good for people with type A blood, I like.  My husband, is O type.  Unfortunately, they need some sort of lean meats.  Chicken, turkey, fish are in, burgers, BBQ ribs, sub sandwiches loaded with roast beef and cheese, NOT SO MUCH!  They do not thrive on high fat, high sugar and processed foods, this slows them down.  Could be why you know who lacks energy and feels watching football is a form of exercising.  It is if you count the steps taken back and forth to the refrigerator and snack cabinet!

  

Watching Your POOP!

As with all stories. some are good, others not so much! Some are heartwarming and poignant, other may tug at the heartstrings and some quite different.  Months ago, an Oprah telecast, had well known celebrities, in deep conversations with Dr. Oz.  Most of the show was dedicated to major health issues, but the interesting and most comical conversations revolved strictly around human excrement, otherwise simply known as POOP! 

How these topics are presented play a large part in how they are accepted.  For instance, the late George Carlin, an outstanding yet contoversial comic, whose wide range of topics were delivered with "who gives a flying crap" attitude, usually saved personal habits of the human species for the last few minutes of his dialogue. When asked why, his response, "I always save the best shit for last!"  Anything that might possible be viewed as disgusting is definitely worthy of a laugh!  Even Dr. Oz seriously lecturing viewers to "look at their feces" drew chuckles and embarassed stares from his A-list Guests.  Perhaps the Oprah show should have been broadcast from an "Active Senior Community", bowel habits are the normal topics of conversation, even in the restaurant.  As one older gentleman downs a bowl of oatmeal, topped with half a cup of brown sugar and an abundant serving of "plumped" raisins, his inner thoughts freely flowing from his food filled mouth, "my guts have been killing me lately, this ought to cure it!"  My guess, the "plumped" raisins know right where to go!

As an observer of people, their style of walking tells alot about what their brain is trying to relay to their respective, bladders and/or colons.  With no two people alike, depending on the message they are receiving from their brain, walking/running techniques may be very similar. While trying to dissect this procedure I have found it much easier to break it into categories, children first:  with this group there is a sub-category, diaper wearers, better known as infants.  It is at this age, we as adults find anything they do, adorable.  Perhaps a little less so if you are the designated diaper changer, better known as the "ass-wiper!"  At this stage we observe the human feces, immediately knowing if this child is eating correctly.  Much like my friend consuming the "plumped raisins", the results are very much similar!.

Our next group, still very much a sub-category of the first, is again divided into yet another sub-category.  Toddler-through young adolescents; an interesting and exciting group to observe! The joy of "potty training" also allows the parent, grandparents and anyone else within close proximity of the first "poop in the potty," all by their tiny little self, to be observed up close and personal!  Sheer joy may quickly change to terrifying moments, while at the mall or on vacation.  I believe, a child grabbing his /her crotch and/or rear-end, crying and sobbing uncontrollably, while being dragged through the crowd, by an enraged parent, quite a thrill!  It is at this point, a sprinter or  possible marathoner might emerge years down the road.  As I observe, a feeling of self satisfaction emerges, "ah yes, been there done that," floats through the cluttered mind!

Our next group, teen-agers, have a less than exciting time with body excrement from the anus.  Probably a good thing,their lives are filled with new and exciting challenges daily. Their decisions whether or not to pee or poop anywhere or put it off to a later time, are most admirable.  They could also care what it looks like as well!  It is at this age "farting" is the norm, smell says it all! As the twenty-something years approach, the male and female species part their ways on this subject...unless of course they become the "Mommy marathoner" or "Daddy sprinter!"

Uneventful middle years, may be divided into sub-categories as well. Thirty-somethings may give way to the slouches of the forty-somethings and as the half-century mark approaches, peeing and pooping somehow begin to make their way back to the fore-front of a "healthier lifestyle."  Recently- a friend, in his later fifties, mentioned he'd been visiting with relatives, eating richer than usual foods.  Celebrations for the holidays, eating out more than usual, and perhaps a tad bit too much alcohol consumption was causing "gastro-intestinal distress." Sensing his embarrassment, I blurted out, "Hemmoroids getting to you?"  The redness disappearing from his face, I attempt to hold back the laughter,  the story unfolded.  Without going into such gory detail, the bottom line was emerald-green poop!  Dinner at a Mexican restaurant, too many jalapeno laced Margarita's and.........one As*hole, spewing "green fire-laced lava," just to tickle the fancy!  But........ at least he"s looking at his poop!

Riding the Rails!

Watching the Golden Globe Awards reminded me of my secret desire to travel the world.  Hugo, Midnight in Paris and even WarHorse, unlocking great memories of six days in Paris.  Although very much a modern day thinker, I marvel at the accomplishments of our predecessors, their history colorful, violent, diverse and extremely passionate.

On a recent visit to the local movie theater, taking in the new Sherlock Holmes film, the night streets of Paris and the Opera House looking so familiar, my husband leans closer, thinking he is whispering, he utters in a booming voice, "It doesn't really look like that, does it?"   At least ten people within earshot either turn around or lean forward trying to observe "the big-mouth".  "Yes, from the outside it's pretty much the same!" I whisper. After a very long and extremely audible sigh comes the big "WOW!" followed by even louder, "SHHHHHH!" with the finality of "Hey BIG MOUTH, shut up!"

Scenes from Sherlock, seem to summons, as if by some bizarre incantations, outstanding memories of my train rides while in Paris.  The first, just a ten minute excursion into the next village from my home base.  A quaint area, but in its infantile stages compared to other French communities.  This area, built up because of Disneyland Paris, offers affordable homes, shopping and anything else, making it almost a self-contained mini-city.  Food shopping in the mall area, quite the experience, chocked full of numerous products, for every finicky palate that may reside or visit the area.  Local produce, meats, bakery and deli items, a visual playground of tasty morsels, while aromas of fresh bread and pastries, delight the senses.

Riding the rails through the french countryside, heading into Paris, the City of Lights, the landscape, very much reminiscent of the ride from New Haven, Connecticut into New York City.  Numerous stops at every station, as commuters, shoppers, tourists and everyone else void of a vehicle head for their destinations.  As we sit, listening to conversations, unfamiliar to our ears, I am pleasantly surprised I can still pick out bits and pieces of the rapid fire french vocabulary, that is bombarding my brain waves.  It is the rise of an unusually haunting but sweet sounding melody, being sung by a petite young woman carrying her tiny child, that my ears pick up on.  As many in the train car turn to observe, her voice becomes louder, clearer and even more mysteriously beautiful.  It is perfectly pitched, tender to the point of deliberate, my young performer is on a mission!  Her young face, naturally beautiful and tender, she sings for money.  By the look in her eyes, she appears sincere and as I try to scan the passengers riding with us, many have a hint of sadness on their faces.  As the train slowly comes to a stop, few give money, my young performer, with a slight smile of gratitude moves on to "beg" further down the line of train cars, more abundant with new passengers.

We exit the underground train station in mid town Paris.  Storm clouds fill the sky, but are a breathe of freshness compared to the darkness of the underground station.  As we walk the narrow streets of Paris, the extreme history of the place is evident EVERYWHERE! Tourists seem so easy to spot, their maps in hand, people rush in every direction, I know I am smiling THIS is going to be FUN!

Answers are....... Always There!

As parents, we raise our children to "spread their wings and fly," hoping that we have done the right things, the unknowing wounds inflicted while they were maturing will be overshadowed by the love and support you have and continue to give them.  With many variables in this endless universe, one simply known as life, wreaks havoc on the mind and heart, threatening our souls to the very core.  Learning long ago, planning down to the last detail, may sometimes come back to haunt you. We wish, we pray, we hope, longing for inner peace, for our children and ourselves.  We support family and friends through hard times, we laugh, we cry...we talk.

As with all things, "practice is suppose to make perfect," yet we all know luck, has much to do with life.  Our children were raised knowing it was okay to make mistakes, just please learn from them, no repeat performances accepted.  As friends and patrons frequented our restaurant, it seemed as though the large "family" always had advice for each other, they were willing to jump in at the first signs of distress, not just for us, but for those that frequented our small town restaurant daily.  As with all communities both large and small, gossip abounds.  Most of the time gossip is what it is, petty,   When it becomes hurtful, the outer limits have been reached.  Unfortunately, those that continue, don't always realize the nature of their attack, causing undue anguish on those living the nightmare.  Question: What is a "family?"  Aren't they suppose to offer support, comfort and prayers?" 

Negativity seems to be the normalcy of today's society, sad but true. We thrive on other people's heartache and misfortunes.  We make mountains out of other's weaknesses and we judge.  Being just a guilty as others, admitting there have been times, I should have ended overheard conversations, but did not.  Saddened by this admission, searching my soul and asking for guidance, I will not repeat such painful performances.  Instead, a show of support for both family and friends when it is most needed.

Our lifespan on this planet is relatively short, wouldn't it be better to race through life on a positive note? A very close friend battling cancer, serves as a reminder, just how lucky we are.  It seems this past year we have not only participated in our own battles but have watched others.  Those who have approached every obstacle with enthusiasm and a positive inner being, survive.  Others chose, perhaps not so wisely. But then we are NOT them.

But pressure doesn't always come from illness.  Everyday obstacles pressure us, whether it's the career or lack of, a fault in judgement resulting in the crumbling of what was suppose to be a solid foundation used to springboard one into a successful career, a relationship beginning or ending.  Perhaps it is a young person wanting to possess the heart of another who may be pressured into a relationship much too soon.  Pressures can hurt, but on a positive note they build character, and may determine just who is a friend or foe.  As I search for answers in my own life, memories sometimes gush forward, blocking paths and thoughts.  It is these moments, I walk with and talk to my inner person, remembering words of wisdom from those that are family and friends.  Memere always said, "it's okay to talk to yourself, just don't answer!"  Instead I listen, the answer is always there. 

        

Football Sunday!

Although the house is now occupied by just the two of us, one would think two televisions would be sufficient.  We have four, down from the six we had at the peak of raising our children.  When last counted, we had three sons.  In doing the math, one would think we should now have three televisions. One is the guest room, one in the living room, another in the family room but the porch now sports one as well!  This being the peak of football season, the only one not in use is on the porch.  Truth be known, if it were warmer, that too would be on surround sound.  Thank you dear Lord for a cold weekend!

As the sun warmed the golf course, the chill of the north breeze waned, allowing a quick nine holes of golf.  A full eighteen would of been nice, but FOOTBALL Sunday is upon us.  Occasionally, I will watch (sickness, being unable to move, loss of a bet) but, not MY choice of sport!.  I say this knowing that in this land of tropical sun, swaying palms, barbecues and all things sports, the possibility of death by stoning could occur, but guys in tight pants trying to break each others' bones, just to prevent scoring, isn't my cup of tea. Then neither is NASCAR or HOCKEY!

As the sun reached its peak of brightness, the blue sky dazzling the senses, the scent of the numerous gardenias in bloom, drifting aloft on the afternoon breeze, the hint of barbecue being fired up, my husband asks,"what time is it, please?" "Mmmm, I don't really know(a white lie), and it's such a beautiful afternoon to be OUTSIDE!" is my quick response, with the emphasis on, OUTSIDE! As if a dejected small child, with the look of that bottom lip quivering, he softly questions, "but Mom, it's FOOTBALL Sunday, my Giants are playing Green Bay, don't you want to watch it with me?" "No, nada, nope, no way, what are you tapped?" I snap. As we returned to the house, the golf clubs, hurriedly stored in the garage, the golf shoes, neatly stashed, a tall glass of ice tea poured, TV remote in hand, the silence is shattered, the decibel level, hurtful, he has made it just in time! 

A quick goodbye kiss, I close the door. Breathing in the afternoon warmth, I feel a calmness, With the roar of the opening kick, just a fleeting memory, my stroll through the neighborhood should be a quiet one. Pleasant, calm thoughts are quickly shattered, others are hurrying back from the golf course as well.  "What are you doing, walking out here, you should be home watching football, my PACKERS are going to beat up on your GIANTS!" screams my Cheese-Head neighbor from Wisconsin.  Sarcasm swells within my thoughts, it is a chore not to open my mouth and let it flow freely.

As I drive away from the neighborhood (fleeing seemed the only reasonable option), I don't think the man I am married to, really understood what I said as I grabbed my sweater, "I am going shopping!"  It is times like this I really love FOOTBALL. "I am going to a January sale at the mall, be back in a few," I cheerfully announce.  "Tell everyone I said hello," he announces with a quick wave and a smile, his eyes NEVER leaving the TV.  THIS was so much easier than I had ever imagined.  That wonderful feeling of smugness(is that a word) returns, God, I could learn to love FOOTBALL SUNDAY!       

Comfort in Coincidence

Perhaps life is full of strange coincidences and deja vu moments.  Pick up the phone and without dialing, the person you intended to have a conversation with is on the line, creepy perhaps, yet strangely comforting. Recently an in depth conversation with an identical twin reveals she has been a tad bit "under the weather" lately.  As a working Mom with an active two year old, she's feeling guilty her husband has had to carry the load the last few days.  Working opposite hours, their young son, always with a parent, her guilt is easy to justify.  Thinking the possibility of another pregnancy is looming, she is torn.  One more child would be nice, but career choices need her immediate attention.  Perhaps a phone call to her best friend, a mirror image might help.  As an identical twin, their thought process very much alike, but their ability to rationalize current situations, come from two different hemispheres.  Again she hesitates as questions begin to haunt her. Her sister, unable to get pregnant, might feel the pains of inadequacy should she be pregnant again. How can she justify this call? How can she question a possible pregnancy with one who longs for a child?  As her early day queasiness subsides, she musters the courage.  "She is also my best friend, I feel her pain just as she feels mine," she concludes.  Reaching for her phone, she is startled as it rings.  Sister is calling her! Answering it, she hears cries of  joys, "I am pregnant! Did you hear me I am pregnant!"  Ah yes, she smiles, "I should have known, have you been feeling under the weather, Sis?"  No, not really, but it was time for my annual physical and I wanted to discuss, a few things with the doctor.  She suggested they check to see if I was pregnant.  We are thrilled!  Why did you ask if I didn't feel good?" "Because I don't, I have morning sickness!" 

As they laugh and enjoy the moment, the closeness of identical twins revealed, they also know coincidences happen for many reasons.  As for me, there have been numerous unexplainable moments, I find comfort in knowing these happen for a reason. After this weekend's football mania, perhaps we should call them "Tebow moments." Exciting and refreshing, this young man, in the limelight, filled with confidence.  The calm within, he knows his ability.  A man of faith, who openly prays,  ridiculed by some, secretly admired by those who shall remain unnamed or feel too embarrassed to admit their admiration.  My question would be, why?  I see nothing wrong with prayer, for me it is a daily ritual.  My prayers ask for strength, guidance, acceptance and confidence in knowing I am doing the right things and admitting my gratitude for all that I have been given. Meditation is praying in its purest form.  Knowing ones short-comings and admission of them, builds character, strength, honesty and integrity but mostly an inner peace. Questions don't always have to be answered, searching one's soul may often provide the "reasons behind the whys!"      

Senseless Meandering!

With the resolution thing behind me now and a fresh start on the horizon, I can look to the past as I plan my immediate attack for the rest of the year. My long term goals are another book, not necessarily about our former life as restaurant owners but quite possibly these moments will be incorporated into the story line.  Life is intertwined with its past triumphs, tragedies, pitfalls and just plain everyday events that have a need to be shared.  Depending on the time of day, mood, weather, conversation and anything else that passes by one of my senses, all are fodder for a story.  Knowing that all of this horse poop does not make sense (it doesn't for me either,) is all the more reason this jungle of words, thoughts and pictures that journey through my mind, looking for a place to colonize, need to be be recorded.

Case in point: The optometrist peers closely into my eyes,  his bright light allowing my tear ducts to release a torrent of water, his every breath ever so close, I can almost hear his heart beat. My thoughts should be, "what is he looking at, what is the source of his almost militant razor sharp focus?"  Instead the warmth of his breath and loud labored breathing suggest," my ears are just fine, but probably a sinus medication would allow me the ability to breathe better."  For the moment I was thankful, he had just returned from lunch! His labored breathing suggests he too has a sinus problem or his belt is too tight. Not sure what he had for lunch, my nose was plugged and depending on how you look at it, that could go either way, good or bad. Another thought, maybe the man has a deviated septum?! From my prospective, the eternity he spent looking through that tiny pinhole, emitting that God-forsaken blinding light, it's probably a blessing, he couldn't "see" my thoughts!

As the craziness of moments continue to swirl, much like the drawing of the random lottery numbers, one bit of a conversation, gesture or picture will pop forth announcing " Hi, what ya doing?  It's my moment, share me!"  Silly as it sounds those moments know nothing about timing!  Some one's perfume or gesture maybe the key to unlock the unpretentious rusty cobweb covered door in my brain, releasing those misfit thoughts, all fighting each other for recognition. From all this silly turmoil and child-like temper tantrums, one vivid image emerges, the brain noise ceases, if only for a moment tranquility returns.  This idea or vision may sit dormant, although tired, the battle won, it begins a new strategy, "how will I motivate this slightly aging but over active well seasoned woman who thrives on procrastinating, to write about, me?"  Body and mind need to be as one and in my world, "that ain't gonna happen!" We therefore categorize thoughts:" Crazy nothings,"these can be hysterical, mean nothing or something, have no set outline for revealing themselves and no direction whatsoever, kind of like this current story. "Tear jerkers," come directly from the heart and have outsmarted the crazy nothings, fighting for recognition in the brain, these are purely feminine!  "That's a fact," stories of past events, people and places that can be swayed by the "crazies" or those fluffy frilly "tear jerkers!"  How often each appear, depends. entirely on me and the effects of my life and those who surround me. 

Perhaps meditation would work but that requires slowing down and concentrating, so we won't go there!  I walk, breathing in the tropical moisture and soaking up the warmth of the Florida sun.  Vitamin D in this form, no calories!  Maybe exercise class, there is a sign up sheet in the club house at our community, it reads, "Exercise yourself back to a healthier lifestyle. Please wear loose fitting clothing!"  Much like this article, that makes absolutely no sense to me.  If I had loose fitting clothing I wouldn't be contemplating exercise classes!      

Resolutions....Start Tomorrow!

What would life be without end of year "stories in review?" Perhaps the question asked should be, "What would the media write about if there we no year to review?"  Re-hashing of past stories is fine, if old wounds are not once again the cause of great pain.  As a firm advocate of, "learn from our mistakes less we are destined to repeat them," I too have not always taken those words of wisdom seriously. Points to ponder: 2012 will bring forth a birthday that thrusts me forward into the next decade of my life.  As I "gracefully season," promising not to take myself too seriously, it is eighteen and half hours into the new year and believe me, I am living on the edge! 

Last year's resolution of "the daily cleansing of the mind" and reminding myself that I have much to be thankful for, seemed almost impossible, yet I achieved my goal, the practice now second nature.  Much of today has been sheer torment but fun as hell!  Can't remember the last time I had a New Year's Day off.  My husband usually searches frantically for a golfing partner, enabling him to play in the annual "Bloody Mary" community wide golf tournament, which he and his partner have never won!  Quite excited, our day began at what seemed the "ass-crack of dawn."  A slight chill in the air but pleasant temperatures forecasted.  Golfing shorts and layered shirts should suffice or that seemed to be the plan.  Thank goodness for the Bloody Mary with a cappuccino chaser.  For the record, this year's resolution was/is "a healthier and wholesome consumption of food!" Are tomatoes okay?  There was only a little bit of the other stuff and as the Bloody Mary rushed through my veins, followed by the extra shot of caffeine and sugar, well, I felt quite toasty.  Had I waited for the sun to warm the old bones, I'd of been the color of the veins that line my legs for God's sake!  Not quite sure,  the results of the tournament have not yet been posted, but...........I think............we either won or came in second! 

Is chicken okay for my healthier lifestyle and diet?  Great, that's what the Colonel said, as I downed bunches of "popcorn chicken!"  Soda, not really my first choice as a beverage, I try to hydrate with bottled water, but as an extra hot piece of chicken began burning my innards, the Dr. Pepper being consumed by my husband, with the "devil may care" attitude concerning healthy foods, tasted mighty fine putting out the fire!  So much so, I treated my damaged esophagus to "lots" more.  What was I thinking? Not exactly a good first day.  As I sat their feeling very depressed, the proverbial "three way" light bulb clicked on.  Is there such a thing as "taking as mulligan" and starting my resolution over? Overcome by giddiness and what seemed eternal happiness, was short lived. But then as that light bulb "kicked it up a notch," becoming so much brighter, I thought "this is Sunday, it doesn't count!"  You know when you give up something for Lent,  Sundays are a freebie! Yeah, no, the first day of the new year IS the first day of the new year, period!  What a loser!

As I walked the aisles of the grocery store, thanking God, I had the carriage to support my bloated body full of greasy popcorn chicken, Dr. Pepper and pistachios (forgot to mention those) and the Colonel's coleslaw (cabbage IS a veggie), that G-damn light bulb once again clicked to its brightest setting. "Suck it up!" Tomorrow is a new day and something good was a direct result of all of this craziness.  It was a fun day! I didn 't buy anything unhealthy at the store, well, at least not anything I like.  I will admit "there isn't a potato chip I don't like!" no, I did not buy any.  I despise Cheetos, Mr. Bill loves them, they are all his.  The bloats are slowly subsiding, there are NO carbonated beverages in the house, empty KFC containers are in the trash, my New Year begins on the second day of the month and after all it is a Leap Year!  Life is good but I've got to hide the pistachios!