This morning as I prepare to head in to work again, I've been thinking back on the past week (and month) of festive activity. It's been a whirlwind adventure, that's for sure. All the gift-giving, meal preparation and visits came off without a hitch, and I must say, it was one of the best times we, as a family, have had in recent years. I'll be glad to bid 2009 adieu! It was a year of work challenges and family transitions - none devastating, thank the Lord - but certainly filled with those "make you stronger" moments.
As we look forward to our New Year tradition with our friends in Estes Park, I pray that 2010 brings an easing of stress and financial burdon on the country, and that the economy and community confidence rises significantly.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Gift Ideas
This year seems to be a particularly hard one for many families in our community. While the news is always filled with stories of need between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the need doesn’t go away when the last string of (LED) lights is put away. We've seen firsthand people out of work, families struggling and children whose Christmas list is only a dream.
We've tried to trim down and rethink our Christmas obligations and lists and are making an effort to help where we can by donating to some organizations that work to make a difference now and in the New Year. Charities that you might want to consider as you do your Christmas shopping would be the Salvation Army, Toys for Tots, Meals on Wheels, Heifer International and Angel Tree. Your church, shelter or community groups need your help to help others as well.
Other gift suggestions that won’t pinch your purse? Spend an afternoon with a friend, visit a nursing home, babysit for a single mom, invite someone to dinner, adopt a furry friend. The Christmas Spirit is in all of us, not in stores or under the tree…
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Time Off
I've taken a little time away from my creative thought processes. It has been a hectic month or two with my work, with quite a bit of travel as well. I just didn't find in myself the spunk to write something witty or bright.
I've always loved the writing process, the opening of my mind to thoughts and ideas just by developing a starter sentence. I used to subscribe to a writer's magazine, and there would be a contest exercise each month with a portion of a first line given. I submitted several and even got a mention once. How exciting! "John held up the..." developed into a delightful short story. I'll put it on the blog.
I wonder, though, how writers get past the moods I have been in of late, so that they might continue working on a piece to meet a deadline. My absolute favorite thing to do would be to write a daily column with information, humor and of course, my opinions. What would I do if I had nothing to say? My mentor in this area, Gene Amole, had a column in the Rocky Mountain News for many years, and even though I didn't always agree with him (I DO believe the new airport was necessary and a vast improvement over the old!), he always engaged me. I'd bring something he said up in conversations for weeks to come. And I must say, he was right on track with his annual turkey stuffing recipe! And as he was dying of cancer, he continued to write. He took us on the journey with him. He introduced us to his family. He was the Bee's Knees of journalists!
I've always loved the writing process, the opening of my mind to thoughts and ideas just by developing a starter sentence. I used to subscribe to a writer's magazine, and there would be a contest exercise each month with a portion of a first line given. I submitted several and even got a mention once. How exciting! "John held up the..." developed into a delightful short story. I'll put it on the blog.
I wonder, though, how writers get past the moods I have been in of late, so that they might continue working on a piece to meet a deadline. My absolute favorite thing to do would be to write a daily column with information, humor and of course, my opinions. What would I do if I had nothing to say? My mentor in this area, Gene Amole, had a column in the Rocky Mountain News for many years, and even though I didn't always agree with him (I DO believe the new airport was necessary and a vast improvement over the old!), he always engaged me. I'd bring something he said up in conversations for weeks to come. And I must say, he was right on track with his annual turkey stuffing recipe! And as he was dying of cancer, he continued to write. He took us on the journey with him. He introduced us to his family. He was the Bee's Knees of journalists!
From the Archives...an early short story
(Written in 1998, it is interesting to see how differently I conveyed thoughts then. Please excuse the dangling participles and clumsy verbiage.)
John held up the end of the coffee table while Martha diligently vacuumed beneath it, attacking any minute` speck of dust brave enough to survive yesterday's cleaning. For thirty-five years he had watched and reluctantly participated in this routine. Martha opened her eyes each morning with a mission to obliterate all germs from her home. She moved ceremoniously from room to room wiping, spraying, nit-picking, until late morning when she could declare, "Now, that's done for another day; what would you like for lunch, dear?"
Early in their marriage, John had made the mistake of questioning her obsession. He had casually remarked that her habit of daily scouring the house might be construed by some to be a mental infraction on her part. Well, actually, he had told her the neighbors were beginning to think she was crazy as a loon for her morning antics. John had not yet learned how to be dishonestly tactful when criticizing one's spouse. Martha proceeded to show him, complete with magnifying glass, the disgusting dirt particles settled on tables, among carpet fibers, and on the bottom of his shoes.
Ah, she was a loving wife and a caring mother. She had never complained when he brought clients home or when John Jr. or Penny exclaimed at the last minute that they needed cookies or cupcakes for school the next day. No, Martha met each new challenge head-on and saw it through to a triumphant end.
As John thought back over the years, he had to chuckle at the pranks he and the children used to play on her. They would deliberately track in dirt or clutter a table so that Martha would have a juicy mess to plunge into. She always scolded them for their untidiness, but somehow John suspected that she probably had been on to them from the beginning.
Now the children were gone, moved out of state and seldom able to visit. Since John had retired and was home all day, there was little opportunity to have anyone over Martha could fuss over. All John had was this daily ritual, which was as tedious to him as anything he had ever faced. Oh, if he and Martha could begin some new activity, something which would give their lives a jump-start...
"John, dear, are you all right? You can put that table down now." John was broken from his reverie to see Martha staring at him, concern in her eyes.
"Martha, I've been thinking, wouldn't it be fun to join a swim club or aerobics class or something? I figured we could go in the early morning and get the blood pumping for the day. What do you think?"
"Oh, my goodness, no, I surely couldn't do anything like that! Why, when would I have the time to get this place tidied up. You know how messy it gets during the day."
And in that moment, it all flashed before him; the years he had denied this woman he loved was anything but a loving, devoted wife and mother; his inability to face the fact that Martha might have a true problem that he had just ignored. She would never stay in hotels ("...Oh no, John, we don't know what germs might have been brought in from other people..."); dinners out were uncomfortable, at best ("...excuse me, waiter, could you take this silverware back; it has not been cleaned properly..."). And why did John Jr. and Penny visit so seldom? They both had families and were making good livings. He so missed playing with his three grandsons. And with all this flooding his mind, he confronted Martha.
"I have had it, that's enough! Our lives have been ruled by your continuing obsession to sanitize our lives. I will have no more of it! Can't you see what it has done to us, what we have become? I want to enjoy my last years, and I want to enjoy them with you. But until you look at yourself and realize that there is a problem, I just can't go on, that's all there is to it!" John slumped down in his easy chair and buried his face in his hands.
Martha took on a distant look and paced slowly around the room for a moment or two. Then she, too, sat down and, with misty green eyes, looked at her husband of so many years.
"John, I don't understand. I can't believe you have felt this way for so long! Do you remember when we were engaged and your mother invited me to visit with her and your father for a week? She thought we needed time to get to know each other so that we would become a close, loving family. Well, what I did that week was follow her from room to room, taking notes and learning the proper way to care for her only son. She systematically tutored me in cleaning and cooking and made it very clear that you had been spoiled in your life. If we were to have a good marriage, I must continue to make you happy.
"What was I to think? After all, I was a young girl. My mother had died when I was only twelve, and Dad and I could never discuss what was expected of a new bride. So I took in all she said, and when we were married, I began to take care of you as she instructed. It got so tedious at times, but you never complained about the way I did things, so I figured she was right. And loving you so deeply, I would do anything to make sure you were happy."
John sat staring at Martha. Oh, this wonderful woman, what had he put her through all these years. What had his doting mother done to this lovely young girl, turning her into nothing more than a maid and nanny for her precious little son. Why didn't he see it before? Of course, Martha reminded him so much of his mother; she even cooked those special green peas and potatoes that he loved, creamy and rich with butter.
He got up from the recliner and came over to the sofa where Martha was quietly weeping. "Oh Martha, my dear, I didn't know, I just never saw...oh, I'm so sorry!" And he held her tight and wept with her, the two clinging to each other.
After a time Martha regained her composure and spoke. "John, do you know what I'd like to do? Let's call John and Penny, and see if it would be all right to visit them. We could rent one of those mobile camper things and drive across the country, taking in the sights along the way. I have always wanted to do that; it's looked so fun on TV."
John was unable to take it all in. "But why did you never mention it before? I thought hotels were the last place you'd ever be seen, unless you could personally supervise the maids."
"Your mother told me you had gotten very ill while staying in a hotel once, so to make sure we were very careful about those places. That's why, when you would bring up traveling, I always thought you were mentioning it just for me, and I would never let you sacrifice your happiness or your health for me."
"Oh sweetheart," whispered John. "What you have suffered all these years; how can I ever make it up to you?"
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Johnny! I have loved every minute of every day I have spent with you. We have beautiful children and a lovely home. It makes no difference whether I spent all those years cleaning or not, I would have done whatever was necessary to make a good home for you. You are my saving grace, don't you know that? You have fulfilled my every need, you have been my constant companion, and you are my very best friend." And with that, she gave him a warm caress, got up and went to the phone, to start the wheels in motion to this new and exciting life they were about to embark upon, together.
John held up the end of the coffee table while Martha diligently vacuumed beneath it, attacking any minute` speck of dust brave enough to survive yesterday's cleaning. For thirty-five years he had watched and reluctantly participated in this routine. Martha opened her eyes each morning with a mission to obliterate all germs from her home. She moved ceremoniously from room to room wiping, spraying, nit-picking, until late morning when she could declare, "Now, that's done for another day; what would you like for lunch, dear?"
Early in their marriage, John had made the mistake of questioning her obsession. He had casually remarked that her habit of daily scouring the house might be construed by some to be a mental infraction on her part. Well, actually, he had told her the neighbors were beginning to think she was crazy as a loon for her morning antics. John had not yet learned how to be dishonestly tactful when criticizing one's spouse. Martha proceeded to show him, complete with magnifying glass, the disgusting dirt particles settled on tables, among carpet fibers, and on the bottom of his shoes.
Ah, she was a loving wife and a caring mother. She had never complained when he brought clients home or when John Jr. or Penny exclaimed at the last minute that they needed cookies or cupcakes for school the next day. No, Martha met each new challenge head-on and saw it through to a triumphant end.
As John thought back over the years, he had to chuckle at the pranks he and the children used to play on her. They would deliberately track in dirt or clutter a table so that Martha would have a juicy mess to plunge into. She always scolded them for their untidiness, but somehow John suspected that she probably had been on to them from the beginning.
Now the children were gone, moved out of state and seldom able to visit. Since John had retired and was home all day, there was little opportunity to have anyone over Martha could fuss over. All John had was this daily ritual, which was as tedious to him as anything he had ever faced. Oh, if he and Martha could begin some new activity, something which would give their lives a jump-start...
"John, dear, are you all right? You can put that table down now." John was broken from his reverie to see Martha staring at him, concern in her eyes.
"Martha, I've been thinking, wouldn't it be fun to join a swim club or aerobics class or something? I figured we could go in the early morning and get the blood pumping for the day. What do you think?"
"Oh, my goodness, no, I surely couldn't do anything like that! Why, when would I have the time to get this place tidied up. You know how messy it gets during the day."
And in that moment, it all flashed before him; the years he had denied this woman he loved was anything but a loving, devoted wife and mother; his inability to face the fact that Martha might have a true problem that he had just ignored. She would never stay in hotels ("...Oh no, John, we don't know what germs might have been brought in from other people..."); dinners out were uncomfortable, at best ("...excuse me, waiter, could you take this silverware back; it has not been cleaned properly..."). And why did John Jr. and Penny visit so seldom? They both had families and were making good livings. He so missed playing with his three grandsons. And with all this flooding his mind, he confronted Martha.
"I have had it, that's enough! Our lives have been ruled by your continuing obsession to sanitize our lives. I will have no more of it! Can't you see what it has done to us, what we have become? I want to enjoy my last years, and I want to enjoy them with you. But until you look at yourself and realize that there is a problem, I just can't go on, that's all there is to it!" John slumped down in his easy chair and buried his face in his hands.
Martha took on a distant look and paced slowly around the room for a moment or two. Then she, too, sat down and, with misty green eyes, looked at her husband of so many years.
"John, I don't understand. I can't believe you have felt this way for so long! Do you remember when we were engaged and your mother invited me to visit with her and your father for a week? She thought we needed time to get to know each other so that we would become a close, loving family. Well, what I did that week was follow her from room to room, taking notes and learning the proper way to care for her only son. She systematically tutored me in cleaning and cooking and made it very clear that you had been spoiled in your life. If we were to have a good marriage, I must continue to make you happy.
"What was I to think? After all, I was a young girl. My mother had died when I was only twelve, and Dad and I could never discuss what was expected of a new bride. So I took in all she said, and when we were married, I began to take care of you as she instructed. It got so tedious at times, but you never complained about the way I did things, so I figured she was right. And loving you so deeply, I would do anything to make sure you were happy."
John sat staring at Martha. Oh, this wonderful woman, what had he put her through all these years. What had his doting mother done to this lovely young girl, turning her into nothing more than a maid and nanny for her precious little son. Why didn't he see it before? Of course, Martha reminded him so much of his mother; she even cooked those special green peas and potatoes that he loved, creamy and rich with butter.
He got up from the recliner and came over to the sofa where Martha was quietly weeping. "Oh Martha, my dear, I didn't know, I just never saw...oh, I'm so sorry!" And he held her tight and wept with her, the two clinging to each other.
After a time Martha regained her composure and spoke. "John, do you know what I'd like to do? Let's call John and Penny, and see if it would be all right to visit them. We could rent one of those mobile camper things and drive across the country, taking in the sights along the way. I have always wanted to do that; it's looked so fun on TV."
John was unable to take it all in. "But why did you never mention it before? I thought hotels were the last place you'd ever be seen, unless you could personally supervise the maids."
"Your mother told me you had gotten very ill while staying in a hotel once, so to make sure we were very careful about those places. That's why, when you would bring up traveling, I always thought you were mentioning it just for me, and I would never let you sacrifice your happiness or your health for me."
"Oh sweetheart," whispered John. "What you have suffered all these years; how can I ever make it up to you?"
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Johnny! I have loved every minute of every day I have spent with you. We have beautiful children and a lovely home. It makes no difference whether I spent all those years cleaning or not, I would have done whatever was necessary to make a good home for you. You are my saving grace, don't you know that? You have fulfilled my every need, you have been my constant companion, and you are my very best friend." And with that, she gave him a warm caress, got up and went to the phone, to start the wheels in motion to this new and exciting life they were about to embark upon, together.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thanksgiving Day
Thanksgiving is the greatest holiday of the year, in my opinion. I always joke that it is because all you have to do to celebrate it is EAT. But actually, to set aside one day a year when you are truly thankful for what you have and who you have has to be an incredible gift!
For me, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade has always been the benchmark that ushered in the holiday season for me. My mom wouldn't let us sing Christmas songs until Santa came at the end of the parade. Still today, I watch the parade every Thanksgiving morning, and then Andy Williams' Sleighride is all cued up to play at the end of the parade.
I will admit that I have tuned in to KOSI a bit prematurely over the past few years, but that is ONLY because I tend to get a little of my Christmas shopping done before the Black Friday rush. And I absolutely CAN'T wrap presents without having White Christmas (the movie) playing in the backgound. (It's my most viewed Christmas movie, with While You Were Sleeping running a close second...you didn't think that was a Christmas move????? Better watch it again...)
I'm all about holiday traditions. (And check a future blog for my feelings about the word "Holiday".) There's succotash and homemade cranberry sauce, turkey and all the fixin's, but this year I put my foot down on marshmallow yams. Please don't abuse that poor tubor any longer! He's a proud, succulent vegetable. To be covered with cinnamon, brown sugar and marshmallows is demeaning!!! Bake or roast him, add a little salt, pepper and butter, and let him stand on his own flavor!!!
Happy Thanksgiving to you, and may this holiday season be among the best you ever remember!
For me, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade has always been the benchmark that ushered in the holiday season for me. My mom wouldn't let us sing Christmas songs until Santa came at the end of the parade. Still today, I watch the parade every Thanksgiving morning, and then Andy Williams' Sleighride is all cued up to play at the end of the parade.
I will admit that I have tuned in to KOSI a bit prematurely over the past few years, but that is ONLY because I tend to get a little of my Christmas shopping done before the Black Friday rush. And I absolutely CAN'T wrap presents without having White Christmas (the movie) playing in the backgound. (It's my most viewed Christmas movie, with While You Were Sleeping running a close second...you didn't think that was a Christmas move????? Better watch it again...)
I'm all about holiday traditions. (And check a future blog for my feelings about the word "Holiday".) There's succotash and homemade cranberry sauce, turkey and all the fixin's, but this year I put my foot down on marshmallow yams. Please don't abuse that poor tubor any longer! He's a proud, succulent vegetable. To be covered with cinnamon, brown sugar and marshmallows is demeaning!!! Bake or roast him, add a little salt, pepper and butter, and let him stand on his own flavor!!!
Happy Thanksgiving to you, and may this holiday season be among the best you ever remember!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Furlough
A Furlough - it has a number of meanings, but in this economy, it is being spoken of quite a bit as unpaid leave initiated by companies on their employees. It might be a day a week, or every other week, or in my case, Thanksgiving Week.
A furlough on Thanksgiving Week might seem to be an oxymoron. How can I be thankful that I'm losing a week's pay, especially just as the holiday season is approaching. But you know what? It is incredible that I have this whole week, with no working from home, just to enjoy my time and my family and to do what I choose. (Refer to "On Holiday" post in the archives.)
So I'm thankful I have this time, I'm thankful that in a week, I get to go back to work, and I'm very thankful that the company notified us of this several months ago, so we could prepare for the loss of pay. Things are tough all over, and we need to remain focused on what is still good in our lives, not just the bad things that happen.
A furlough on Thanksgiving Week might seem to be an oxymoron. How can I be thankful that I'm losing a week's pay, especially just as the holiday season is approaching. But you know what? It is incredible that I have this whole week, with no working from home, just to enjoy my time and my family and to do what I choose. (Refer to "On Holiday" post in the archives.)
So I'm thankful I have this time, I'm thankful that in a week, I get to go back to work, and I'm very thankful that the company notified us of this several months ago, so we could prepare for the loss of pay. Things are tough all over, and we need to remain focused on what is still good in our lives, not just the bad things that happen.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Another Snowy Morning
I'm wondering if I need to buy new boots. I've managed with the same boots for probably ten years, because although the country thinks we are in a deep freeze half the year, my boots have gotten very little use in the past. With this being the third snowstorm, though, and it only mid-November, it might be time to invest in a good pair of mucklucks! Or snowshoes! Or a bigger snowblower!
Still, it is pretty. Pretty is good. It is like aromatherapy for the eyes...
Sunday, November 8, 2009
End of a Week
The end of the week or the beginning? It is hard to tell! Here I am at 11:55 pm on a Sunday evening thinking back on the stressful week I just had that ended with a lovely Saturday and Sunday. But in a matter of hours, a new week will begin. I pray that all will go well and that everyone affected by what affects me will make it through with minimal collateral damage...
That said, I must say that it is SOOO cool to have two fine grown sons who come visit, play Guitar Hero with me and bring their girlfriends along to visit. What a great evening we had! Now, off to bed!
That said, I must say that it is SOOO cool to have two fine grown sons who come visit, play Guitar Hero with me and bring their girlfriends along to visit. What a great evening we had! Now, off to bed!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Learning New Things
I've been working on my prairie dog PowerPoint presentation for my English Comp class this morning. It wasn't being very cooperative, so I decided to change it up a little with a newer version of PowerPoint. It's looking good, but I wanted to imbed the sounds before the final submission. Linking vs imbedding - who knew that the sounds didn't automatically travel with the project...? I guess that's why I'm still in school. Always something more to know.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Snow Day!
How fun! Promises of snowstorms and school closings keep the airwaves abuzz. I remember blizzards of the past when we couldn't dig out for days and the stress and woes of the day seemed to melt with each shovel of snow.
The media loves it. They build up a big storm on the news for days, then when anything less than 2 feet hits, they blubber and backtrack. If they are lucky enough to be right, we are inundated with stories, pics and reports. My favorite is when the reporter and a single cameraman are set up along the highway, reporting on the traffic and accidents. Snow is blowing and their usually perfect hair is whipping around toboggans and scarves. What a visual!
My family back east thinks I spend the winter in frozen tundra. I think the media has a deal with ski resorts to mention Denver as often as possible when discussing snowpack in the mountains. Vail, Aspen and even A-Basin are much higher than the Mile High City, but what a great winter resort promo to bring it up regularly. We declare 300 days of sunshine a year, and even a blizzardy day can end up with sunny blue skies by the afternoon.
I hope not this one, though. There's something peaceful about watching the snow fall on the brown earth and sidewalks. Something clean and fresh. And in there somewhere, maybe a bit of that feeling we had as kids when the radio would announce "Schools are closed today..."
The media loves it. They build up a big storm on the news for days, then when anything less than 2 feet hits, they blubber and backtrack. If they are lucky enough to be right, we are inundated with stories, pics and reports. My favorite is when the reporter and a single cameraman are set up along the highway, reporting on the traffic and accidents. Snow is blowing and their usually perfect hair is whipping around toboggans and scarves. What a visual!
My family back east thinks I spend the winter in frozen tundra. I think the media has a deal with ski resorts to mention Denver as often as possible when discussing snowpack in the mountains. Vail, Aspen and even A-Basin are much higher than the Mile High City, but what a great winter resort promo to bring it up regularly. We declare 300 days of sunshine a year, and even a blizzardy day can end up with sunny blue skies by the afternoon.
I hope not this one, though. There's something peaceful about watching the snow fall on the brown earth and sidewalks. Something clean and fresh. And in there somewhere, maybe a bit of that feeling we had as kids when the radio would announce "Schools are closed today..."
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Ellipsis...
... I'm the Queen of Ellipses. Merriam-Webster says an ellipsis is "the omission of one or more words that are obviously understood..."
I won't claim that I'm "obviously understood" - in fact, the way I ramble on most of the time, you might need a roadmap to figure out where I'm going with a topic. It is fun, however, to head into a thought and then just leave it hanging on the end, as though something more might...
See what I mean?
I won't claim that I'm "obviously understood" - in fact, the way I ramble on most of the time, you might need a roadmap to figure out where I'm going with a topic. It is fun, however, to head into a thought and then just leave it hanging on the end, as though something more might...
See what I mean?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Family Time
It is so rewarding to set aside time to spend with our family. Family can take on many different looks -
- There is the immediate family, those around you each and every day.
- We have our extended families, perhaps across town or across the country.
- There are those we choose as family, relationships we've grown over the years.
- Each of our communities is a family of sorts, with us as members.
- The workplace can be a family, although it might be classified as dysfunctional. Not all family members have equal footing in this sort of grouping.
Whether your family is across the room or across the ocean, it needs tending and nurturing to grow into a healthy relationship. And as you would tend a luscious tomato plant, the attention you show it will come back to you in many fruitful ways.
In October this year, I've been privileged to enjoy three distinct types of extended family gatherings:
Two of my dear friends and I formed a "Puzzle Pod" a few years ago. We love to do jigsaw puzzles together, so after adding a puzzle to several outings a year, we finally decided to have weekends away to do nothing but catch up and puzzle. We catch up until the wee hours, until puzzle pieces are only blurry props in our woven tapestry of talk. Warning - never mistake a puzzle piece for a Wheat Thin!
Last week I returned from an annual retreat in Aspen, where people come from all over Colorado, the country and the globe to celebrate the music and the man, John Denver. Each family member has his/her own motivation - love for the environment, love of JD's music, love of any folk music, maybe even love of Aspen in the fall. Together, though, we form a warm, friendly group of people who see one another once, maybe twice a year. We catch up on everything from children to global warming. Pretty cool!
And this weekend I'm fortunate to get to spend time with my niece in Sacramento. We catch up over a cup of coffee and a Scrabble board. This is a long family tradition. My sisters and I teethed on Scrabble (and jigsaws, too, now that I think about it). Each of my sisters introduced Scrabble to their children, and now I find myself, from time to time, across from a dear niece, swapping stories of life as we create fascinating new words on the board. As with the puzzle warning above, however, never confuse a Scrabble tile with a Wheat Thin....
Whatever your family dynamic, work it, enjoy it, grow it. Write letters, email, hug. You will find the rewards to you and the other family members far outweigh any time you've taken out of your hectic day.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
On Being Rude
Did you ever notice how people will sometimes make a comment that is negative or unflattering and then laugh a little to indicate they were just joking? They aren't joking! Believe me. It's their way of saying whatever they want and then diffusing it before you can reply in like fashion.
Well, I'm done with that. It's not my nature to be rude, but perhaps I need to begin treating people as they treat others - sort of like a reverse Golden Rule - Do Unto Others As They Have Done Unto You. If that is how they want to communicate, then I'm more than happy to speak their language.
I was with friends the other day, one of whom is from New Zealand. She has a rich, lovely accent - very proper. She was providing information to another friend, and he blurted out in the middle of her explanation - "Speak English!" I punched him and admonished him right then and there.
There was another situation with a group of people where I had waited my turn to speak to someone, and once we were chatting, another person came up and totally interrupted us so that she could get a picture. Obviously her presence was more important than mine. As I moved away she said she didn't mean to interrupt, to which I said, "Well, it's a little late for that!"
We need to treat one another with respect. When they are deserving of our respect, it isn't so tough. But the real challenge is to treat everyone, no matter how rude, boorish or obstinate they may be, with that same level of respect. That's why I'm rethinking the whole thing. You earn respect, I give respect. You treat me with anything less than respect - I'll follow suit.
Well, I'm done with that. It's not my nature to be rude, but perhaps I need to begin treating people as they treat others - sort of like a reverse Golden Rule - Do Unto Others As They Have Done Unto You. If that is how they want to communicate, then I'm more than happy to speak their language.
I was with friends the other day, one of whom is from New Zealand. She has a rich, lovely accent - very proper. She was providing information to another friend, and he blurted out in the middle of her explanation - "Speak English!" I punched him and admonished him right then and there.
There was another situation with a group of people where I had waited my turn to speak to someone, and once we were chatting, another person came up and totally interrupted us so that she could get a picture. Obviously her presence was more important than mine. As I moved away she said she didn't mean to interrupt, to which I said, "Well, it's a little late for that!"
We need to treat one another with respect. When they are deserving of our respect, it isn't so tough. But the real challenge is to treat everyone, no matter how rude, boorish or obstinate they may be, with that same level of respect. That's why I'm rethinking the whole thing. You earn respect, I give respect. You treat me with anything less than respect - I'll follow suit.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Bloody October
Not a good title, is it? It is a name my family has adopted for October, since it seems to be a difficult time for us each year. When did it begin? Although there might have been isolated incidents prior, most likely 1983, the year my sister and mom both died. My oldest sister died of cancer that October, and my mom, filled with grief and despair, followed her a few weeks later.
Since then, each October has it's own drama, from work challenges, a break-in at our home, a devasting snowstorm that broke several trees, to other deaths. My dear brother-in-law died one October day. Two years ago, one niece's husband was killed in an auto accident in late September and was put to rest in October.
This year, already, my family has felt the angst of Bloody October. Another niece was over four months pregnant and found out on Oct 1 that the baby had died. She had to endure a forced labor and many hours (and days to come) of loss and sorrow. Yesterday I learned there is a memorial next week for a dear friend's husband, who was killed in an auto accident the end of September.
Is all of October filled with grief? No, we don't let it. There are several birthdays we celebrate, and sharing time with the living is a blessing all on its own. Since John Denver's death in October 1997, I have made an annual trip to Aspen for memorial/celebration/retreat. The people I have met from that experience are among my dearest friends. Other social and environmental activities have branched off from that so that my year is filled with joy and well-being.
Still - it does cause one to put their head down and hope we make it through the month intact. The light at the end of the tunnel? Thanksgiving! With the end of October, we can officially welcome in the holiday season and the crisp, beautiful snows of winter.
From the Archives - Prairie Dog Whole
Prairie Dog Whole
Soft, brown, docile
Community, home, family
Sentry stands, warning bark
Only a fox nearby.
Community, home, family
Sentry stands, warning bark
Only a fox nearby.
But What Goes There?
Backhoe moves in
Crushes the earth
Castles of plywood reach to the sky.
Backhoe moves in
Crushes the earth
Castles of plywood reach to the sky.
Man takes up residence
Sips wine, watching the sunset
Wonders why the city got so big
And what became of the eagles and hawks.
Sips wine, watching the sunset
Wonders why the city got so big
And what became of the eagles and hawks.
Prairie Dog spirit quietly barks
Don’t you understand?
They could not survive without us –
We are all part of the whole.
Don’t you understand?
They could not survive without us –
We are all part of the whole.
Rita P. MacLean - 2003
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Surely Goodness and Mercy...
Aren't those such comforting words? Even if you're not Christian, Jewish, Religious or ... whatever, those four words and what follows - "shall follow me all the days of my life" - must be one of the most powerful blessings a person can receive.
I've been reciting "The 23rd Psalm" obsessively, nearly as a mantra, since July 2004 when a friend of the family died just after his high school graduation. Even at that young age, a life well-lived. One of the times I fell into darkness and depression. As the years passed and I traveled more high and low roads, King David's words have wrapped themselves around me.
Another phrase in the Psalm I didn't understand for a long time was "...Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me." Didn't get it, didn't understand. One day in a study course, I happened on someone's explanation of this, and it has stuck with me. In sheepherding, the ROD pushes away, and the STAFF (or crook of it) pulls back in. Pushing me out of my comfort zone, pulling me back in for protection. Wow!
So may you be blessed today in your journey of life, knowing Surely, that Goodness and Mercy follow you too.
I've been reciting "The 23rd Psalm" obsessively, nearly as a mantra, since July 2004 when a friend of the family died just after his high school graduation. Even at that young age, a life well-lived. One of the times I fell into darkness and depression. As the years passed and I traveled more high and low roads, King David's words have wrapped themselves around me.
Another phrase in the Psalm I didn't understand for a long time was "...Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me." Didn't get it, didn't understand. One day in a study course, I happened on someone's explanation of this, and it has stuck with me. In sheepherding, the ROD pushes away, and the STAFF (or crook of it) pulls back in. Pushing me out of my comfort zone, pulling me back in for protection. Wow!
So may you be blessed today in your journey of life, knowing Surely, that Goodness and Mercy follow you too.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Irrational Logic
I had a reading assignment this week that blew my mind - figuratively, perhaps, but nonetheless out there! Several different authors, several topics, but they all had in common the nearly frenetic use of colorful words and phrases. They had me running to the dictionary for further clarification of their points, which is never a bad thing. It does somewhat stymie me, though, that they would choose such oddly descriptive phrases for their otherwise mundane topics.
Misogyny - One author used this word, meaning woman hater, no less than six times while explaining gangsta rap. Someone who knows such a big word should probably have a few more in his back pocket Thesaurus from which to choose.
Recombinant phrenology - I loved the whole concept of this one...the recombining (generally genetic) of the pseudoscientific study of mental functions of the brain. But broken down in meaning, I wasn't sure what it had to do with modern PowerPoint presentations.
Simultaneity of multitasking - WOW! Multitasking already assumes that someone does more than one thing at a time, but adding "the simultaneous occurrence" to the beginning definitely kicks it up a notch.
Irrational Logic - My personal favorite. In fact, I adopted it not only for the class assignment but also as a way to explain what goes on most days of my life....
Etymology - my own contribution - the study of words. I love words and tend to use them a lot.
Misogyny - One author used this word, meaning woman hater, no less than six times while explaining gangsta rap. Someone who knows such a big word should probably have a few more in his back pocket Thesaurus from which to choose.
Recombinant phrenology - I loved the whole concept of this one...the recombining (generally genetic) of the pseudoscientific study of mental functions of the brain. But broken down in meaning, I wasn't sure what it had to do with modern PowerPoint presentations.
Simultaneity of multitasking - WOW! Multitasking already assumes that someone does more than one thing at a time, but adding "the simultaneous occurrence" to the beginning definitely kicks it up a notch.
Irrational Logic - My personal favorite. In fact, I adopted it not only for the class assignment but also as a way to explain what goes on most days of my life....
Etymology - my own contribution - the study of words. I love words and tend to use them a lot.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
WORK!?!!
Work is something I have had a hard time understanding for several years now. I truly feel that we should have a 20-year sabbatical from 40 to 60, when our bodies are out of control and our minds are adjusting to that fact. Time to recreate, to enjoy, to reflect upon the experiences of our 20's and 30's. Instead, we step onto a roller coaster that speeds past every precious moment, whether ours or our loved ones, too busy to stop a moment to see the significance of any of it. Lost, it's all lost, in the stresses of the day. And so, with that, I prepare myself for another day of work. Or, as Maynard G. Krebbs might put it, "WORK!?!!"
Monday, September 21, 2009
Technology Bytes!
My brain is not "Plug & Play"! That's all there is to it. Over the years it has performed amazingly - memorizing times tables and Shakespeare, analyzing discounts and percentages while shopping, keeping at the ready obscure tidbits of information for Trivial Pursuit - it has done an impressive job.
But after all this use and abuse, I believe it's about to cry "Uncle"! At any given moment it must handle the bombardment of Facebook, Twitter, Bluetooth, 3-G Highspeed, Skype-mania, MAC vs PC, HD-Blu Ray - all beeping and chirping for attention. Every minute computer and cell phone technology morphs into totally incompatible, incomprehensible "must-have" instruments. We sign our lives away on purchasing equipment with more accessories than Britney Spears, and have resigned ourselves to an incredible learning curve and the loss of all existing data. It's just a given. Has anyone ever accessed the CD-ROM User Guide?
Remember when equipment had manuals, written only in English, with pictures and diagrams of the item in case you were a more visual learner. I swear I could fix pretty much anything on my old Volvo just by reading the Owner's Manual. (Sadly, it didn't cover cracked engine blocks...) I thought technology was supposed to make our lives easier!
But after all this use and abuse, I believe it's about to cry "Uncle"! At any given moment it must handle the bombardment of Facebook, Twitter, Bluetooth, 3-G Highspeed, Skype-mania, MAC vs PC, HD-Blu Ray - all beeping and chirping for attention. Every minute computer and cell phone technology morphs into totally incompatible, incomprehensible "must-have" instruments. We sign our lives away on purchasing equipment with more accessories than Britney Spears, and have resigned ourselves to an incredible learning curve and the loss of all existing data. It's just a given. Has anyone ever accessed the CD-ROM User Guide?
Remember when equipment had manuals, written only in English, with pictures and diagrams of the item in case you were a more visual learner. I swear I could fix pretty much anything on my old Volvo just by reading the Owner's Manual. (Sadly, it didn't cover cracked engine blocks...) I thought technology was supposed to make our lives easier!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
On Holiday
I love that term - and all it implies! The European equivilent of our American Vacation goes so much further, however, to offer respite, provide insight and engage its followers in a non-work mode.
For here in America - in Corporate America at least - the vacation is time taken off from the workplace, as in "vacating". It is not, necessarily, time away from the work itself. Oh no. We have cell phones; we have laptops; and in a big pinch, we ALWAYS have either Kinkos or the hotel fax machine. It's as though we think, in our micromanaged little existence, that everything would fall apart without us. How Egomaniacal!
And it isn't always the workplace that dictates our not-so-down time. "Now leave, and don't worry about us..." our co-workers will say. No, that's OK. I don't trust you enough to walk away without at least one eye on things. A call-in occasionally, especially when the vacation time is lagging a bit or we need to escape from the relatives.
A Holiday on the other hand evokes thoughts of months in the country, or weeks "out of country". Dazzling adventures are set before us, so much so that we've not a moment to think of the workplace and its daily drama. Can you just imagine?
No? I thought not. We Americans weren't conditioned that way. Pity!
For here in America - in Corporate America at least - the vacation is time taken off from the workplace, as in "vacating". It is not, necessarily, time away from the work itself. Oh no. We have cell phones; we have laptops; and in a big pinch, we ALWAYS have either Kinkos or the hotel fax machine. It's as though we think, in our micromanaged little existence, that everything would fall apart without us. How Egomaniacal!
And it isn't always the workplace that dictates our not-so-down time. "Now leave, and don't worry about us..." our co-workers will say. No, that's OK. I don't trust you enough to walk away without at least one eye on things. A call-in occasionally, especially when the vacation time is lagging a bit or we need to escape from the relatives.
A Holiday on the other hand evokes thoughts of months in the country, or weeks "out of country". Dazzling adventures are set before us, so much so that we've not a moment to think of the workplace and its daily drama. Can you just imagine?
No? I thought not. We Americans weren't conditioned that way. Pity!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Researching Ad Infinitum
The below paper on perfectionist attitudes came to me because I know that, far too often, I've been accused of such a trait. I fight it, believe me. Just look around my house and you will see many successful attempts to eliminate perfection in my life (don't let the dresser drawers scare you...)
There are times, however, when I find I cannot turn off the urge to gather it all, get it right and tweak it forever. This past week's research assignment in my online class found me digging in bookshelves, searching the web and clicking on dozens of sites in an effort to do what? Write a preliminary article on the topic I had chosen. Not only did I gather enough information (uncited, by the way) for a 3-volume text on the subject, but I "chased enough rabbits" that I began developing sub-topics and unrelated analyses. Give me a break, Rita!
There are times, however, when I find I cannot turn off the urge to gather it all, get it right and tweak it forever. This past week's research assignment in my online class found me digging in bookshelves, searching the web and clicking on dozens of sites in an effort to do what? Write a preliminary article on the topic I had chosen. Not only did I gather enough information (uncited, by the way) for a 3-volume text on the subject, but I "chased enough rabbits" that I began developing sub-topics and unrelated analyses. Give me a break, Rita!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
From the Archives - In Support of Perfectionists
(From time to time, I'll post thoughts or articles I've written previously...one follows)
Everyone knows one, or maybe has had to work with one. Perfectionists are easy to spot, always burning the midnight oil, stressing over every detail of a situation and holding co-workers up to the same, unattainable standards they expect of themselves. Some take on near obsessive/compulsive tendencies, in their efforts to make everything just right. You may even profess to be one. If so, you are either still in the closet, struggling to survive in this imperfect world, or you have become hardened to the snickers, jokes and ridicule of those who cannot grasp the concept of your mantra, "If it isn’t perfect, it isn’t right." Considering the very real possibility of our ethical, economical and political downfall in this country, perhaps it is time to reconsider that philosophy and demand a higher standard of living.
In recent years, perfectionists have gotten a bad rap. They have been admonished by a way of thinking that supports creativity over detail, desire over need, and self over selflessness. While a blend of both philosophies can result in a strong, well-balanced culture, too much of a good thing is generally associated with the demise of a civilization. Let me cite a few examples:
Can the durability of our goods be directly related to the durability of our culture? Most products sold in America hardly last past their warranties. You may still have your grandmother’s old toaster on a shelf, but the shiny one you bought last year just went on the fritz. Within five years, a new automobile will have been to the repair shop approximately two times for adjustments or parts replacement. What became of the slogan, "Ford, Built to Last"? Leasing is becoming a more attractive option than buying, partly because we need to replace our vehicles before the cost of repairs outweighs a monthly car payment. At $20,000+ a pop, that’s a pretty pricey disposable. Yet, the 1956 T-Bird purring down the street during a parade is a masterpiece of outstanding workmanship and sound mechanics...the product of perfectionist thinking.
It has been argued that the durability of the automobile was compromised by the introduction of newer, lightweight materials, designed to enhance both safety and comfort. Sleek, state-of-the-art, computerized features such as automatic windows and seat warmers are hard for the consumer to pass up. If, however, a choice was given between a flawless transmission or climate-controlled temperature gauges, the typical American consumer would continue shopping until both features could be provided for the same price.
Let’s consider the family home. Technology has provided us certain products designed to improve a new home’s efficiency (double-paned windows, lighter and better insulation), quality (strong, lightweight materials) and beauty. Yet many homebuilders cut corners to save a dollar here or an hour there. Quality workmanship has been neglected because builders have become more concerned with the number of units that can fit in a particular space and the speed with which they can be completed and sold. Rather than providing a sound structure that will provide generations of families security from the elements and pleasure within its walls, we blindly accept shifting foundations, unsquared walls and unfinished basements.
Yesterday’s architecture, on the other hand, has withstood both natural elements and manmade disasters. In generations to come, the designs of the Great Pyramid, the Roman Coliseum and many other ancient structures still standing will speak of those civilizations’ exquisite detail and perfectionist attitudes, while our contribution might only be remnants of unidentifiable plastics found while excavating former landfills.
The medical profession should be one area where only true-blue perfectionists need apply. How unfortunate for many of us that this is not the case. The reason for the high cost of malpractice insurance is because it is tapped into so often. Horror stories can be found in the news every day of someone dying after a routine procedure, incorrect diagnoses, botched surgeries, and post-op infections and complications. Yet these atrocities have been relegated to the status quo of healthcare in America. Should we not, instead, be holding the medical profession up to a higher standard of care? I assure you that if it regards my family or me, I would rather take issue with the doctor before a mistake, than to present my complaint to a judge after the fact.
I’m not saying that we all need to develop Type-A personalities, suddenly analyzing the minutia of life. There are many in our society who fill that role "perfectly". We must, however, take the responsibility to value quality control over quantity control. We need to demand better service, better products and better attitudes. If "Inspector 67" takes the time to put a sticker on every article coming off the assembly line, then he or she should be accountable for the condition of that article. We need to raise our children with a sense of global responsibility, rather than hardly making them responsible for themselves. In doing so, we might possibly turn things around and, once again, become a country built on the perfectionist attitudes of our ancestors.
Everyone knows one, or maybe has had to work with one. Perfectionists are easy to spot, always burning the midnight oil, stressing over every detail of a situation and holding co-workers up to the same, unattainable standards they expect of themselves. Some take on near obsessive/compulsive tendencies, in their efforts to make everything just right. You may even profess to be one. If so, you are either still in the closet, struggling to survive in this imperfect world, or you have become hardened to the snickers, jokes and ridicule of those who cannot grasp the concept of your mantra, "If it isn’t perfect, it isn’t right." Considering the very real possibility of our ethical, economical and political downfall in this country, perhaps it is time to reconsider that philosophy and demand a higher standard of living.
In recent years, perfectionists have gotten a bad rap. They have been admonished by a way of thinking that supports creativity over detail, desire over need, and self over selflessness. While a blend of both philosophies can result in a strong, well-balanced culture, too much of a good thing is generally associated with the demise of a civilization. Let me cite a few examples:
- The Garden of Eden
- Fall of the Roman Empire
- The Fall of Enron
Can the durability of our goods be directly related to the durability of our culture? Most products sold in America hardly last past their warranties. You may still have your grandmother’s old toaster on a shelf, but the shiny one you bought last year just went on the fritz. Within five years, a new automobile will have been to the repair shop approximately two times for adjustments or parts replacement. What became of the slogan, "Ford, Built to Last"? Leasing is becoming a more attractive option than buying, partly because we need to replace our vehicles before the cost of repairs outweighs a monthly car payment. At $20,000+ a pop, that’s a pretty pricey disposable. Yet, the 1956 T-Bird purring down the street during a parade is a masterpiece of outstanding workmanship and sound mechanics...the product of perfectionist thinking.
It has been argued that the durability of the automobile was compromised by the introduction of newer, lightweight materials, designed to enhance both safety and comfort. Sleek, state-of-the-art, computerized features such as automatic windows and seat warmers are hard for the consumer to pass up. If, however, a choice was given between a flawless transmission or climate-controlled temperature gauges, the typical American consumer would continue shopping until both features could be provided for the same price.
Let’s consider the family home. Technology has provided us certain products designed to improve a new home’s efficiency (double-paned windows, lighter and better insulation), quality (strong, lightweight materials) and beauty. Yet many homebuilders cut corners to save a dollar here or an hour there. Quality workmanship has been neglected because builders have become more concerned with the number of units that can fit in a particular space and the speed with which they can be completed and sold. Rather than providing a sound structure that will provide generations of families security from the elements and pleasure within its walls, we blindly accept shifting foundations, unsquared walls and unfinished basements.
Yesterday’s architecture, on the other hand, has withstood both natural elements and manmade disasters. In generations to come, the designs of the Great Pyramid, the Roman Coliseum and many other ancient structures still standing will speak of those civilizations’ exquisite detail and perfectionist attitudes, while our contribution might only be remnants of unidentifiable plastics found while excavating former landfills.
The medical profession should be one area where only true-blue perfectionists need apply. How unfortunate for many of us that this is not the case. The reason for the high cost of malpractice insurance is because it is tapped into so often. Horror stories can be found in the news every day of someone dying after a routine procedure, incorrect diagnoses, botched surgeries, and post-op infections and complications. Yet these atrocities have been relegated to the status quo of healthcare in America. Should we not, instead, be holding the medical profession up to a higher standard of care? I assure you that if it regards my family or me, I would rather take issue with the doctor before a mistake, than to present my complaint to a judge after the fact.
I’m not saying that we all need to develop Type-A personalities, suddenly analyzing the minutia of life. There are many in our society who fill that role "perfectly". We must, however, take the responsibility to value quality control over quantity control. We need to demand better service, better products and better attitudes. If "Inspector 67" takes the time to put a sticker on every article coming off the assembly line, then he or she should be accountable for the condition of that article. We need to raise our children with a sense of global responsibility, rather than hardly making them responsible for themselves. In doing so, we might possibly turn things around and, once again, become a country built on the perfectionist attitudes of our ancestors.
Friday, September 11, 2009
September Eleventh
It sneaks up on you, doesn't it? One minute you're thinking of all the things you have to do today, of the weekend approaching, of what to have for breakfast, and then you spot the day. You remember the time. You go back to where you were that day.
My son Phillip and I were talking, and it is the first tragedy of note that he remembers (he was almost 15). He had, of course, heard all about Columbine two years earlier, and coupled with this, his young world was rocked! I remember him sitting on his bed one morning, days later, very upset because he had heard someone say that it had taken five years to plan this. He said that someone was probably planning something right now that would happen in the future. The age of innocence gets younger and younger...
Over-stimulating our Kids
I've always blamed Sesame Street for overstimulating our kids, but once I got to thinking about it, we children of the '60s (and '70s) have done that to them from birth. Remember when the big deal was to have big black and white shapes all around the baby's room, or bright colors, to stimulate and engage? Then Sesame Street hyperactivity took over for us until our children moved on to video games, txting, and MySpace with its flashing over-informing nature. Even news programs like CNN that have a picture, a picture in a picture, a crawl and a spike or zoom feature perpetuate the absorption of too much data at any given time.
Gee, and we thought it was the sugar!
The not-so-funny thing is that our overstimulated children have a problem going to a boring, stifling classroom with a teacher instructing them to sit in their seats, or sit in a reading circle or sit...anywhere! So it seems if we spent so much time getting our children to think a thousand thoughts a second, the solution to this would be to find a way to continue the child's learning in much the same way. Big video screens flashing times tables with big yellow birds or purple dinos rewarding each progression. But no, that wouldn't be school then, would it? School is rigid, is rules, is dictated by some Charlie Brown grownup determined to keep the classroom under control. (Do I hear Pink Floyd?) It wouldn't be prudent to consider anything other than under-stimulating the bodies in an effort to train the mind. (Did you notice I said "train", not "engage"?) So a label was given to those children who were unable to quickly (and quietly) calm their spirited natures - Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder - or ADHD to us parents who had to say it a lot. And once you have a label, the pharmaceuticals must come up with a CURE. Oh yeah, now we're talking. But you don't want to get me started. That's a blog for another day. Suffice it to say that we either need to change how we develop our young ones or the school system needs to change its dynamic. Any wagers on who will win?
Gee, and we thought it was the sugar!
The not-so-funny thing is that our overstimulated children have a problem going to a boring, stifling classroom with a teacher instructing them to sit in their seats, or sit in a reading circle or sit...anywhere! So it seems if we spent so much time getting our children to think a thousand thoughts a second, the solution to this would be to find a way to continue the child's learning in much the same way. Big video screens flashing times tables with big yellow birds or purple dinos rewarding each progression. But no, that wouldn't be school then, would it? School is rigid, is rules, is dictated by some Charlie Brown grownup determined to keep the classroom under control. (Do I hear Pink Floyd?) It wouldn't be prudent to consider anything other than under-stimulating the bodies in an effort to train the mind. (Did you notice I said "train", not "engage"?) So a label was given to those children who were unable to quickly (and quietly) calm their spirited natures - Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder - or ADHD to us parents who had to say it a lot. And once you have a label, the pharmaceuticals must come up with a CURE. Oh yeah, now we're talking. But you don't want to get me started. That's a blog for another day. Suffice it to say that we either need to change how we develop our young ones or the school system needs to change its dynamic. Any wagers on who will win?
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Busy-ness of Autumn
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Do you ever get the feeling that time speeds up after the lazy summer? It's as though Mother Nature went on holiday during the hot July and early August days then suddenly remembered that she needs to harvest, seed, shake out her leaves and prepare for the winter. The mornings are cool and crisp, evenings grow dark sooner, and there just isn't enough time in the day to complete all there is to do.
Working for MDA, autumn has always been a busy time. There is, of course, the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon to consider. For 29 years, I've been a part of this worthwhile organization. The month of August is filled with activities and plans for the event, and then in September there is wrap up and deadlines and reports galore. There is also budgeting for the new year - offices, activities, growth and cutbacks....
For many, the start of school increases the excitement, activity and stress of the season. Some are preparing their children for school; others may be attending themselves. School zones, busses stopping, children darting in and out - it isn't a day at the beach, that's for sure.
But that's OK - for depending on where you might live, autumn is a brief season. Hot one day, chilly the next, it is merely a bridge between long summer days and longer winter nights. If it chooses to decorate itself in bright, crunching leaves, dried sunflowers and pompous pumpkins, so be it!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
On Blogging...
I suppose I was born to blog. In an age when everything is instant (messaging, On Demand, breakfast), I've felt more comfortable with the up-at-all-hours, emailing/writing/savoring of words and phrases at my leisure. Txt'ng is tuf wn U try 2 spl evry wd rit. Webster and I don't understand! With a blog, my mind can extend itself to the keyboard with little concern that the reader (have I a reader?) will yawn and wander away.
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