Sent to me by a dear and precious friend who understands...
Here is a scene from the 2005 movie Junebug, where Alessadro Nivola sings softly and tenderly.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
This says it all!
Here is another one of those quotes I wish I'd thought of first!
"Writing is like making love. Don't worry about the orgasm, just concentrate on the process." —Isabel Allende
"Writing is like making love. Don't worry about the orgasm, just concentrate on the process." —Isabel Allende
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
A QUOTE FOR TODAY
"Courage is the human virtue that counts most — courage to act on limited knowledge and insufficient evidence. That's all any of us have." – Robert Frost
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Thanks to the unprecedented support of more than 14,000 wildlife supporters, millions of voters in key swing states are learning more about vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s values -- and her brutal record on aerial hunting of wolves and other wildlife.
Tell Everyone You Know About Governor Palin's Brutal Record
Sunday, August 31, 2008
TRUTH ~
August 31, 2008
"Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away from it all that is not gold." – Leo Tolstoy
About Leo Tolstoy
Count Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy, known as Leo Tolstoy, is considered one of the greatest novelists of all time; he wrote 25 books, including War and Peace and Anna Karenina. He was born on his family's estate in Russia. Although he fought in the Crimean War, he became a pacifist and political radical after a severe midlife crisis. His beliefs greatly influenced Mahatma Gandhi, who became a friend. He died in 1910.
"Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away from it all that is not gold." – Leo Tolstoy
About Leo Tolstoy
Count Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy, known as Leo Tolstoy, is considered one of the greatest novelists of all time; he wrote 25 books, including War and Peace and Anna Karenina. He was born on his family's estate in Russia. Although he fought in the Crimean War, he became a pacifist and political radical after a severe midlife crisis. His beliefs greatly influenced Mahatma Gandhi, who became a friend. He died in 1910.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Sarah Palin "righter" than Bush
I HAVE RECEIVED THIS LETTER OF CONFIRMATION FROM THE WILDLIFE FEDERATION and choose to share it here. Please note the copyright is theirs, not mine.
FROM: Defenders Action Fund
Dear Carol,
A few hours ago, the news broke that Alaska Governor Sarah Palin has been selected by Sen. John McCain as the vice presidential candidate for the Republican ticket.
As a Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund supporter, you are no doubt aware of Governor Palin’s dismal record, from her staunch support for special interests and Big Oil to her terrible assault on wolves and other wildlife.
As much of the nation wonders just who Sarah Palin is, I wanted to pass along my statement that I've just released.
Please read it and pass it along to everyone you know.
Thanks for your continued support,
Rodger
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
August 29, 2008
Shocking Choice by John McCain
WASHINGTON-- Senator John McCain just announced his choice for running mate: Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska. To follow is a statement by Rodger Schlickeisen, president of Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund.
“Senator McCain’s choice for a running mate is beyond belief. By choosing Sarah Palin, McCain has clearly made a decision to continue the Bush legacy of destructive environmental policies.
“Sarah Palin, whose husband works for BP (formerly British Petroleum), has repeatedly put special interests first when it comes to the environment. In her scant two years as governor, she has lobbied aggressively to open up the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to drilling, pushed for more drilling off of Alaska’s coasts, and put special interests above science. Ms. Palin has made it clear through her actions that she is unwilling to do even as much as the Bush administration to address the impacts of global warming. Her most recent effort has been to sue the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to remove the polar bear from the endangered species list, putting Big Oil before sound science. As unbelievable as this may sound, this actually puts her to the right of the Bush administration.
“This is Senator McCain’s first significant choice in building his executive team and it’s a bad one. It has to raise serious doubts in the minds of voters about John McCain’s commitment to conservation, to addressing the impacts of global warming and to ensuring our country ends its dependency on oil.”
###
The Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund (www.defendersactionfund.org) provides a powerful voice in Washington to Americans who value our conservation heritage. Through grassroots lobbying, issue advocacy and political campaigns, the Action Fund champions those laws and lawmakers that protect wildlife and wild places while working against those that do them harm.
Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund Home
© Copyright 2008, Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund
FROM: Defenders Action Fund
Dear Carol,
A few hours ago, the news broke that Alaska Governor Sarah Palin has been selected by Sen. John McCain as the vice presidential candidate for the Republican ticket.
As a Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund supporter, you are no doubt aware of Governor Palin’s dismal record, from her staunch support for special interests and Big Oil to her terrible assault on wolves and other wildlife.
As much of the nation wonders just who Sarah Palin is, I wanted to pass along my statement that I've just released.
Please read it and pass it along to everyone you know.
Thanks for your continued support,
Rodger
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
August 29, 2008
Shocking Choice by John McCain
WASHINGTON-- Senator John McCain just announced his choice for running mate: Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska. To follow is a statement by Rodger Schlickeisen, president of Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund.
“Senator McCain’s choice for a running mate is beyond belief. By choosing Sarah Palin, McCain has clearly made a decision to continue the Bush legacy of destructive environmental policies.
“Sarah Palin, whose husband works for BP (formerly British Petroleum), has repeatedly put special interests first when it comes to the environment. In her scant two years as governor, she has lobbied aggressively to open up the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to drilling, pushed for more drilling off of Alaska’s coasts, and put special interests above science. Ms. Palin has made it clear through her actions that she is unwilling to do even as much as the Bush administration to address the impacts of global warming. Her most recent effort has been to sue the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to remove the polar bear from the endangered species list, putting Big Oil before sound science. As unbelievable as this may sound, this actually puts her to the right of the Bush administration.
“This is Senator McCain’s first significant choice in building his executive team and it’s a bad one. It has to raise serious doubts in the minds of voters about John McCain’s commitment to conservation, to addressing the impacts of global warming and to ensuring our country ends its dependency on oil.”
###
The Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund (www.defendersactionfund.org) provides a powerful voice in Washington to Americans who value our conservation heritage. Through grassroots lobbying, issue advocacy and political campaigns, the Action Fund champions those laws and lawmakers that protect wildlife and wild places while working against those that do them harm.
Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund Home
© Copyright 2008, Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund
Sunday, June 1, 2008
A FISH STORY that's a Whale of a Tale!
Steve's been pest-, I mean, asking me to go fishing with him for years. Lately, he'd been especially adamant about it, insisting it was important to him that I share the experience of his favorite sport.
How could I refuse a request like that?
I figured Saturday was as good a time as any to get it overw... uh, see if I liked it. So, we made the plans.
Now understand: this meant getting up at three in the morning, in the dark and cold to go to a place that was even darker and colder. Nevertheless, I had agreed to this, and I was prepared on time with a nice hot cup of coffee for each of us. I went to the car and waited for him.
All of a sudden, the garage door opened and there he was. I took one look at him and thought I had died and gone straight to the underworld. My handsome, dashing, GQ hunk was standing in front of me wearing a hat that can only be described as...
There is no description.
It was filthy. It had a floppy brim all around it and all these things stuck to it. Steve was wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt and green boots that were like pants that came up to his armpits - waders, I think he called them - and they had braces or suspenders to hold them up. (I was not at all sure that I was ever going to be able to make love to him again. But I digress.)
Anyway, I asked him if he had to wear all that paraphernalia. He looked at me askance and snorted some lame explanation about needing it. Stuff about luck, tradition, and superstition. He went on about how I would understand once I learned to love fishing the way he did. Buncha nonsense. He said he bought a pair of boots and a hat for me too, but I threatened to kill him in his sleep if he ever said that to me again, and he let it go.
I was full of apprehension, but I got into the truck anyway. He took the good-ol'-boy pick-up truck. (Just to make it more flippin' wonderful.) The drive to the lake took an hour and a half. While we were on our way there, he gave me this talk. The fishing talk. (--Most people get it when they turn thirteen, but I'm a late bloomer.)
He told me all about his new special fishing pole. He paid a lot of money for it. I did ask several times how much, but he never answered me; he just kept saying, "A lot, and it's very special." Oh, he beamed when he informed me that he was going to let me use it because it was so wonderful. Surely I would love fishing with this special pole. He was so proud of himself. It was weird. I found this whole thing disconcerting somehow, but I went along.
We arrived and went through the whole perfect spot ritual. Then he gave me a casting lesson, and it was time for me to actually (God save us) fish. I had to cast the line. And I wanted to do it right, but I was clueless. I took a few minutes to get it all feeling just right, and then I did a few small practice casts. I was getting ready...to cast.
Steve said I was channeling Norton from The Honeymooners. He said it was very hard to take.
Well, I guess that's true, but I wasn't doing it on purpose; I was trying to do it right so he would be proud of me. All of a sudden he yelled at me! Really loud.
"THROW IT!"
He scared me. I mean, he made me jump. Next thing I knew, I bit my lip and threw it. And I tell you, boy-howdy! Eight years at University were not lost on me. No sir. The minute that fishing pole left my hand, I knew right away that was wrong.
Now, here's the thing. Steve had turned away, because he had become disgusted with me, and he didn't know I threw his special fishing pole into the... I was just standing there, struck dumb with fear. He turned back to face me and wanted to know where his fishing pole was. All I could do was hold up my arm and point limply. I could not speak.
Right about that time was when it all went south.
He took one look at his new special fishing pole (the one that cost so much that he couldn't say the price) floating down the river and, darned if he didn't yell at me again!
"You threw it?! My new fishing pole is floating down the f-ing river?"
Well I was not about to take that. I figured it was time I let him know just how I felt about this whole fishing expedition. I shouted right back at him, "Then you better go get it there, BOOT MAN!" I was thinking I'd run for my life when he went into the water. Then I figured I'd better stay - in case he drowned or something - so I could call for help.
Of course, he did manage to retrieve it, only his boots filled up with water. He could not get out. I asked him if he wanted me to cut holes in them to let the water out, but he told me to stay away from him with the knife.
After he managed to sort that all out, I figured we could go home. He said "no" to that idea. He said we had come there to fish and fish was what we were going to do. (By golly!) For some reason, I wasn't allowed to touch the new fishing pole after that. He gave me the old one.
I felt pretty bad about the whole thing, and I told him so. He said he would forgive me. Maybe. Someday.
Then he worked with me on casting a little bit more.
After a while, I realized that there was just no way I was going to get the hang of it. I told him I wanted to do it my way. That was when I got the second fishing talk - about how there is a right way and a wrong way to do things and, while I could do whatever I wanted (on account of this was supposed to be relaxing), I really should not count on actually catching anything. I thanked him for the talk and said I still wanted to do it my way.
Steve shook his head and gave me his blessing. Then he walked down the bank to a better spot (where he couldn't see me fishing my way).
I tell you, I did everything wrong. Everything. And I caught more diggity-dang fish than I ever needed or wanted. Every time I cast that line I caught a fish. After a while I was trying not to catch them. I was shooing them away, saying stuff like, "No, fish! Go away, fish! Swim for your life! Go away fish!"
I must have been quite a sight!
I caught eighteen fish.
Steve caught three.
My smallest fish was bigger than his biggest fish.
As you can well imagine our Stevie was not a happy camper, er, I mean fisher. He was very angry with me. He packed up the camp and said we were going home.
So we were on our way home and there I was chattering on and on. I was happy. I mean, shoot! I caught eighteen fish! He asked me to be quiet. Well, I was so busy being happy, I did not realize how piss-, uh, I mean, how important it was to him that I quiet down. I just kept going on about how much fun I had. How there was nothing to it... To be truthful, I suspected I was tormenting him, but I kind of felt he deserved it a wee bit and, well, it was fun. Only I didn't realize just how very angry he was.
After a while, he pulled the truck over and stepped down. He didn't say a word. Just walked around the truck, opened my door, and told me to get out. I shook my head, because to tell you the truth, at that point in time, I was afraid of him. I mean, I was having thoughts like: He could kill me out here, bury my body, and no one will ever know what happened to me. He reached in, took my elbow, and made me, I mean, helped me get out. He put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me toward him. Then he leaned down to look directly into my eyes and he spoke very softly - kind of like a teacher instructing a slow student. He said that he really needed me to shut up. He said it was very important that he not hear my voice until he said I could speak. He asked me if I understood. I nodded, afraid to blink, and he let me get back into the truck.
After a while, I reached for the radio to turn it on, and the way he glared at me made me reconsider. A few miles later, he missed our turn-off, and I did think of saying something, but I thought better of it on account of not wanting Michael to grow up without a mother!
By the time we got home, it was dark. Steve's parents and Michael were sleeping. We came in quietly, went to our room, took separate showers, and went to sleep. I had not been given permission to speak yet.
When I woke up in the morning, he was already gone.
His mother was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in. She looked up at me and shook her head. I was not sure if I was allowed to speak or not, so I helped myself to a coffee and took it to my room. In a while, wee Michael came in and he let me speak.
After a short while, Steve's dad came to my room to let me know he and Steve's mom were leaving. He asked me if I was all right. I said I was, and they both apologized for how Steve was behaving. I thought his mother was mad with me, but she was feeling bad about Steve being so all fired up.
In his defense, I told them what happened. She winked when she allowed as to how I should have thrown the fish back, leading me to believe she just might be speaking from experience. Well, I felt like the stupidest person on earth because, I swear, that simply never occurred to me.
Anyway, it's all right now. The divorce hearing is next week. (I'M KIDDING!)
Hope you enjoyed my little fish story.
Carol - still in love with a very soggy, I mean, sorry fisherman!
How could I refuse a request like that?
I figured Saturday was as good a time as any to get it overw... uh, see if I liked it. So, we made the plans.
Now understand: this meant getting up at three in the morning, in the dark and cold to go to a place that was even darker and colder. Nevertheless, I had agreed to this, and I was prepared on time with a nice hot cup of coffee for each of us. I went to the car and waited for him.
All of a sudden, the garage door opened and there he was. I took one look at him and thought I had died and gone straight to the underworld. My handsome, dashing, GQ hunk was standing in front of me wearing a hat that can only be described as...
There is no description.
It was filthy. It had a floppy brim all around it and all these things stuck to it. Steve was wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt and green boots that were like pants that came up to his armpits - waders, I think he called them - and they had braces or suspenders to hold them up. (I was not at all sure that I was ever going to be able to make love to him again. But I digress.)
Anyway, I asked him if he had to wear all that paraphernalia. He looked at me askance and snorted some lame explanation about needing it. Stuff about luck, tradition, and superstition. He went on about how I would understand once I learned to love fishing the way he did. Buncha nonsense. He said he bought a pair of boots and a hat for me too, but I threatened to kill him in his sleep if he ever said that to me again, and he let it go.
I was full of apprehension, but I got into the truck anyway. He took the good-ol'-boy pick-up truck. (Just to make it more flippin' wonderful.) The drive to the lake took an hour and a half. While we were on our way there, he gave me this talk. The fishing talk. (--Most people get it when they turn thirteen, but I'm a late bloomer.)
He told me all about his new special fishing pole. He paid a lot of money for it. I did ask several times how much, but he never answered me; he just kept saying, "A lot, and it's very special." Oh, he beamed when he informed me that he was going to let me use it because it was so wonderful. Surely I would love fishing with this special pole. He was so proud of himself. It was weird. I found this whole thing disconcerting somehow, but I went along.
We arrived and went through the whole perfect spot ritual. Then he gave me a casting lesson, and it was time for me to actually (God save us) fish. I had to cast the line. And I wanted to do it right, but I was clueless. I took a few minutes to get it all feeling just right, and then I did a few small practice casts. I was getting ready...to cast.
Steve said I was channeling Norton from The Honeymooners. He said it was very hard to take.
Well, I guess that's true, but I wasn't doing it on purpose; I was trying to do it right so he would be proud of me. All of a sudden he yelled at me! Really loud.
"THROW IT!"
He scared me. I mean, he made me jump. Next thing I knew, I bit my lip and threw it. And I tell you, boy-howdy! Eight years at University were not lost on me. No sir. The minute that fishing pole left my hand, I knew right away that was wrong.
Now, here's the thing. Steve had turned away, because he had become disgusted with me, and he didn't know I threw his special fishing pole into the... I was just standing there, struck dumb with fear. He turned back to face me and wanted to know where his fishing pole was. All I could do was hold up my arm and point limply. I could not speak.
Right about that time was when it all went south.
He took one look at his new special fishing pole (the one that cost so much that he couldn't say the price) floating down the river and, darned if he didn't yell at me again!
"You threw it?! My new fishing pole is floating down the f-ing river?"
Well I was not about to take that. I figured it was time I let him know just how I felt about this whole fishing expedition. I shouted right back at him, "Then you better go get it there, BOOT MAN!" I was thinking I'd run for my life when he went into the water. Then I figured I'd better stay - in case he drowned or something - so I could call for help.
Of course, he did manage to retrieve it, only his boots filled up with water. He could not get out. I asked him if he wanted me to cut holes in them to let the water out, but he told me to stay away from him with the knife.
After he managed to sort that all out, I figured we could go home. He said "no" to that idea. He said we had come there to fish and fish was what we were going to do. (By golly!) For some reason, I wasn't allowed to touch the new fishing pole after that. He gave me the old one.
I felt pretty bad about the whole thing, and I told him so. He said he would forgive me. Maybe. Someday.
Then he worked with me on casting a little bit more.
After a while, I realized that there was just no way I was going to get the hang of it. I told him I wanted to do it my way. That was when I got the second fishing talk - about how there is a right way and a wrong way to do things and, while I could do whatever I wanted (on account of this was supposed to be relaxing), I really should not count on actually catching anything. I thanked him for the talk and said I still wanted to do it my way.
Steve shook his head and gave me his blessing. Then he walked down the bank to a better spot (where he couldn't see me fishing my way).
I tell you, I did everything wrong. Everything. And I caught more diggity-dang fish than I ever needed or wanted. Every time I cast that line I caught a fish. After a while I was trying not to catch them. I was shooing them away, saying stuff like, "No, fish! Go away, fish! Swim for your life! Go away fish!"
I must have been quite a sight!
I caught eighteen fish.
Steve caught three.
My smallest fish was bigger than his biggest fish.
As you can well imagine our Stevie was not a happy camper, er, I mean fisher. He was very angry with me. He packed up the camp and said we were going home.
So we were on our way home and there I was chattering on and on. I was happy. I mean, shoot! I caught eighteen fish! He asked me to be quiet. Well, I was so busy being happy, I did not realize how piss-, uh, I mean, how important it was to him that I quiet down. I just kept going on about how much fun I had. How there was nothing to it... To be truthful, I suspected I was tormenting him, but I kind of felt he deserved it a wee bit and, well, it was fun. Only I didn't realize just how very angry he was.
After a while, he pulled the truck over and stepped down. He didn't say a word. Just walked around the truck, opened my door, and told me to get out. I shook my head, because to tell you the truth, at that point in time, I was afraid of him. I mean, I was having thoughts like: He could kill me out here, bury my body, and no one will ever know what happened to me. He reached in, took my elbow, and made me, I mean, helped me get out. He put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me toward him. Then he leaned down to look directly into my eyes and he spoke very softly - kind of like a teacher instructing a slow student. He said that he really needed me to shut up. He said it was very important that he not hear my voice until he said I could speak. He asked me if I understood. I nodded, afraid to blink, and he let me get back into the truck.
After a while, I reached for the radio to turn it on, and the way he glared at me made me reconsider. A few miles later, he missed our turn-off, and I did think of saying something, but I thought better of it on account of not wanting Michael to grow up without a mother!
By the time we got home, it was dark. Steve's parents and Michael were sleeping. We came in quietly, went to our room, took separate showers, and went to sleep. I had not been given permission to speak yet.
When I woke up in the morning, he was already gone.
His mother was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in. She looked up at me and shook her head. I was not sure if I was allowed to speak or not, so I helped myself to a coffee and took it to my room. In a while, wee Michael came in and he let me speak.
After a short while, Steve's dad came to my room to let me know he and Steve's mom were leaving. He asked me if I was all right. I said I was, and they both apologized for how Steve was behaving. I thought his mother was mad with me, but she was feeling bad about Steve being so all fired up.
In his defense, I told them what happened. She winked when she allowed as to how I should have thrown the fish back, leading me to believe she just might be speaking from experience. Well, I felt like the stupidest person on earth because, I swear, that simply never occurred to me.
Anyway, it's all right now. The divorce hearing is next week. (I'M KIDDING!)
Hope you enjoyed my little fish story.
Carol - still in love with a very soggy, I mean, sorry fisherman!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
BEFORE I WAS A MOM...
THis was given to me on MOTHER'S DAY, and I thought it would be nice to share...
Before I was a Mom,
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.
Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom.
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.
Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Murder By Fifty!
You know, I am all for the police having the right to shoot - to protect themselves and to protect others.
I also believe they have the right to a show of force - to protect themselves and to protect others.
If they honestly believed that Sean Bell and his friends had a gun in that car on that fateful night, then I believe they had a right to a show of force, maybe to shoot.
But I have to state for the record that I cannot understand how and why a jury of their peers could have come back with the verdict they did.
One shot - maybe two - is self defense... Three shots is hysteria... (Uh, do we really WANT Police Officers who are prone to hysteria?)
FIFTY SHOTS IS MURDER!
CM
I also believe they have the right to a show of force - to protect themselves and to protect others.
If they honestly believed that Sean Bell and his friends had a gun in that car on that fateful night, then I believe they had a right to a show of force, maybe to shoot.
But I have to state for the record that I cannot understand how and why a jury of their peers could have come back with the verdict they did.
One shot - maybe two - is self defense... Three shots is hysteria... (Uh, do we really WANT Police Officers who are prone to hysteria?)
FIFTY SHOTS IS MURDER!
CM
Saturday, April 12, 2008
NEW Meme
I was instructed to place an X by all the things I've done (and remove the X from the ones I have not), and then post it to the Blog...
Supposed to be for my entire life.
(Feel free to take and use, but please let me know. I’d like to read your answers.)
(X)Gone on a blind date
() Skipped school
(X) Watched someone die
(X) Been to Canada
() Been to Mexico
(X) Been to Florida
(X) Been on a plane
(X) Been lost
(X) Been on the opposite side of the country
(X) Gone to Washington, DC
(X) Swam in the ocean
(X) Cried yourself to sleep
(X) Played cops and robbers
(X) Recently colored with crayons
(X) Sang Karaoke
(X) Paid for a meal with coins only?
(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
() Have been married more than once
() Have any grand children
() Made prank phone calls
(X) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue
(X) Danced in the rain
(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus
(X) Been kissed under the mistletoe
(X) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about
(X) Blown bubbles
(X) Gone ice-skating
(X) Been skinny dipping outdoors
(X) Gone to the movies
1. Any nickname? Several!
2. Mother's name? Rita
3. Favorite drink? Water!
4. Body Piercing: ears
6. How much do you love your job? I love it.
7. Birthplace No idea.
8. Favorite vacation spot? Scotland
9. Ever been to Africa??? Not yet
10 Ever eaten cookies for dinner? Cookies, no. Popcorn, yes.
11. Ever been on TV? Yes
12. Ever steal any traffic sign?? No
13. Ever been in a car accident?? Yep, sure have.
14. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle??? Both
15. Favorite salad dressing?? Vinaigrette
16. Favorite pie?? Don't much care for pie
17. Favorite number? 2
18. Favorite movie?? I have three: Sound of Music, Singing in the Rain, and Yankee Doodle Dandy
19. Favorite holiday? It's an esoteric (family) day
20. Favorite dessert? Fresh fruit
21. Favorite food?? My mother's Pot Roast
22. Favorite day of the week? Sunday
23. Favorite brand of body wash?? Caress
24. Favorite toothpaste?? Mint
25 Favorite smell?? The sea
26. What do you do to relax?? Find Steve and... er...
28. How do you see yourself in 10 years?? Hopefully retired!
29. Furthest place you will send this message? I am not sending it; I am posting it.
Supposed to be for my entire life.
(Feel free to take and use, but please let me know. I’d like to read your answers.)
(X)Gone on a blind date
() Skipped school
(X) Watched someone die
(X) Been to Canada
() Been to Mexico
(X) Been to Florida
(X) Been on a plane
(X) Been lost
(X) Been on the opposite side of the country
(X) Gone to Washington, DC
(X) Swam in the ocean
(X) Cried yourself to sleep
(X) Played cops and robbers
(X) Recently colored with crayons
(X) Sang Karaoke
(X) Paid for a meal with coins only?
(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
() Have been married more than once
() Have any grand children
() Made prank phone calls
(X) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue
(X) Danced in the rain
(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus
(X) Been kissed under the mistletoe
(X) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about
(X) Blown bubbles
(X) Gone ice-skating
(X) Been skinny dipping outdoors
(X) Gone to the movies
1. Any nickname? Several!
2. Mother's name? Rita
3. Favorite drink? Water!
4. Body Piercing: ears
6. How much do you love your job? I love it.
7. Birthplace No idea.
8. Favorite vacation spot? Scotland
9. Ever been to Africa??? Not yet
10 Ever eaten cookies for dinner? Cookies, no. Popcorn, yes.
11. Ever been on TV? Yes
12. Ever steal any traffic sign?? No
13. Ever been in a car accident?? Yep, sure have.
14. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle??? Both
15. Favorite salad dressing?? Vinaigrette
16. Favorite pie?? Don't much care for pie
17. Favorite number? 2
18. Favorite movie?? I have three: Sound of Music, Singing in the Rain, and Yankee Doodle Dandy
19. Favorite holiday? It's an esoteric (family) day
20. Favorite dessert? Fresh fruit
21. Favorite food?? My mother's Pot Roast
22. Favorite day of the week? Sunday
23. Favorite brand of body wash?? Caress
24. Favorite toothpaste?? Mint
25 Favorite smell?? The sea
26. What do you do to relax?? Find Steve and... er...
28. How do you see yourself in 10 years?? Hopefully retired!
29. Furthest place you will send this message? I am not sending it; I am posting it.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
Hu's On First...
Well, you knew this was coming...
Highly enjoyable.
Esteemed credit and gratitude for this video to YouTube artist: ilikepie1120
Highly enjoyable.
Esteemed credit and gratitude for this video to YouTube artist: ilikepie1120
Saturday, March 29, 2008
MY BUDDY. BOB!
**Esteemed credit for this video goes to YouTube Artist, Paramedic51
**Video is entitled: Robert Fuller BABY COME HOME
Sunday, March 2, 2008
I JUST LOVE THIS GUY!
Man, if I wasn't completely in love with my Stevie...
Gabriel Byrne could play Logan - He could make anyone (including me, thank you very much) forget my beloved main character is supposed to be a freckle-faced, red headed Celt and completely take over the role...
**Esteemed credit for this video goes to YouTube Artist, Babsy513
**Video is entitled: THE FABULOUS GABRIEL BYRNE
Gabriel Byrne could play Logan - He could make anyone (including me, thank you very much) forget my beloved main character is supposed to be a freckle-faced, red headed Celt and completely take over the role...
**Esteemed credit for this video goes to YouTube Artist, Babsy513
**Video is entitled: THE FABULOUS GABRIEL BYRNE
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
WHAT GOES AROUND, DOES INDEED COME AROUND...
| While walking down the street one day, a US senator is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by Saint Peter at the entrance. "Welcome to heaven," says Peter warmly. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. You see, we seldom see a high official around here, so we're not altogether sure what to do with you." "No problem," the senator responds. "Just let me in." "Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where you would like to spend eternity." "Really, I've made up my mind," says the senator. "I want to be in heaven." "I'm sorry," Peter speaks softly, shaking his head, "but we have our rules." With that, Saint Peter escorts the senator to the elevator which he rides down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush green golf course. In the distance, there is a clubhouse and standing in front of it, all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him. Everyone is very having a wonderful time. They're dressed in fine evening apparel as they greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce for hours about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and dine on lobster, caviar, and expensive champagne. Now the devil is also present. He is actually a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises, taking him back to where Saint Peter is waiting.... "Welcome back. Now it's time to visit heaven." So, for another twenty-four hours the senator joins a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the time has gone and Peter returns for the senator's decision. "Well, then," Saitn Peter starts. "You've spent a day in hell and a day in heaven. Now which do you choose for eternity?" The senator reflects for a minute before he answers: "Well, I would never have said it before. I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell." So, Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes back down to hell. Now the doors of the elevator open, he finds himself in the middle of a waste land so vast he can see no end to it. It's covered with foul debris and garbage. All his friends are covered in lesions and dressed in rags. They spend their time picking up the trash and debris, putting it in black bags as more trash falls continuously from above. The cheerful devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. "I don't understand," the senator stammers. "Yesterday, when I was here, there was a golf course and clubhouse; we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced. It was great! Now, all I can see is a foul smelling wasteland, full of garbage. My friends look miserable. What happened?" The devil looks at him with a smug grin and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning. Today, you voted." |
Thursday, February 7, 2008
GABRIEL BYRNE: TV's Sweet Treat!
Okay, I admit it. I've been watching TV. I have become completely hooked on HBO's new half hour drama, In Treatment.
I'll be writing my thoughts on the show as it progresses, but, today, I'm just making note of how delighted I am to see Gabriel Byrne again!
I first saw him a few years ago in NYC. He was appearing in Eugene O'Neill's A Moon for the Misbegotten, and I was utterly mesmerized by his performance. Since then, I miss no opportunity to see him. A fan? Me? Well, glory be, I guess I am. ... and I dare suggest you will be, too, once you experience his work.
It was the spring of two-thousand. I obtained tickets to the (sold out) play which was onstage at the Walter Kerr Theater, one of the medium sized houses. Eugene O'Neill happens to be one of my favorite playwrights, and the idea of seeing the exquisite Ray Dotrice in the role of Phil Hogan made it an irresistible must-see. (Now that I think of it, I'm fairly certain Mr. Dotrice won the Tony for this portrayal in the Best Actor in a Featured Role category).
It was the first time I ever saw Gabriel Byrne. He was the brave soul who took on the challenging role of James Tyrone, Jr. and I had no idea what to expect where he was concerned. Not terribly ambitious about learning, I checked briefly online, and read that he was an Irish Actor. Saints preserve us! Being the Anglophile that I am, this pleased me immensely, and enough said. (As it happens, I am also fairly certain that Mr. Byrne was nominated for a Tony for this part, but I do not believe he took the statue home...)
Cherry Jones, another under appreciated, superbly brilliant actress rounded out the cast as Josie Hogan. This put me over the moon. I was just desperate for the days to pass until I would see it!
__
Sitting in the theater, in my center section aisle seat in the tenth row, I checked my watch repeatedly as the auditorium filled to capacity. Finally, the lights lowered and the audience hushed as the curtain began to move. I held my breath...
There is no way for this writer to separate one performance, that Sunday afternoon, from the other. Each acted and reacted to the other in perfect harmony, if you'll forgive me the cliche: like an impeccably rehearsed symphony.
Gabriel Byrne stood out for me because I had never seen him before and, forgive me again, I can be an awful snob when it comes to live theater. He took hold of that character and transported me and, I think, everyone else to the 1940s. It was not just O'Neill's words that took us away; Byrne's body language, his very demeanor, was of a time gone by. What a lovely, magical partnership!
Byrne's obvious love of the material shone through. So many actors simply say lines and move about the stage, gesturing as instructed, and they get rave reviews for doing it. I have been guilty, too, of this kind of acceptance - and as long as I am entertained, this is all right with me... uh, most of the time. It's a given, our Mr. Byrne could have gotten away with giving much less than he did. Fortunately for his audience, however, it would not have been enough for him! He didn't perform Tyrone; he channeled him. There was no definitive line between the here and now and the once upon a time. The assemblage around me disappeared, and I was taken into the story, the proverbial fly on the wall of a real happening.
I want to share about the one jarring moment, that afternoon, that sealed my bond as a fan of this man's work and talent. It was near the play's conclusion. Gabriel Byrne was in the midst of the emotional third act monologue where James Tyrone speaks loving words of confession and apology, revealing the depth of his personhood to Josie Hagen. It is a heart wrenchingly serious time in the play which has, up to this point, been peppered with O'Neill's perfectly placed moments of comedic hilarity.
One of the male audience members, up front and to the actors' right, (my left), made it abundantly clear that he had no knowledge of the story and no realization of the depth of what was happening. He misunderstood the character's intent and let loose a startling guffaw at the precise moment when the actor was escorting the audience to the story's emotional crescendo. The outburst seemed extremely loud, but that may have been because the theater was silent, except for Byrne's voice. My heart sank for the actor as the explosive disturbance caused every head in the audience to turn. I wondered how he would be able to maintain his momentum and the integrity of the scene. Feeling generous, I decided no matter how he chose to handle it, my admiration for his performance would remain intact.
To my astonishment, Mr. Byrne did not need my forgiveness. His hold on the character, the time and space, and the audience never faltered. Without any sign on his face or in his cadence that he heard the young man's misguided outburst, he skillfully ushered us along on our journey to the story's conclusion and kept us unscathed.
To this day, I remember that moment, and I don't know how he did it. I have seen things like this happen to other performers and felt just as heartsick for them as I did for Mr. Byrne. Some chose to step out of character and acknowledge the evil-doer, with humor or admonishment; others hesitate, regroup, and start the scene from a previous point. One actor actually forgot the next few lines and took a moment to re-compose himself, but he had lost his focus and the character - and the scene fell flat. All these reactions were understandable. Things happen in live theater, and I feel it would be unjust to hold the actors accountable. (It's a certainty I could not do it.)
I simply do not believe the talent and presence of mind Gabriel Byrne exhibited that afternoon comes along every day. The point I mean to make is: even though I was affected emotionally in that I was so relieved and happy for Byrne because he was not yanked out of character, he continued with such impeccable timing and grace that my exuberance was shelved. It did not come through until after I had thoroughly experienced the emotion and sensitivity O'Neill intended.
Cherry Jones as Josie Hagen comforts Jim Tyrone played by Gabriel Byrne
Eugene Oneill's A Moon for the Misbegotten
Walter Kerr Theater - Spring of 2,000
It was very personal. I shudder just thinking about it, and I know my words fail miserably to express how amazing it was! An unforgettable gift to witness it first hand! Someday, I hope to thank him for his love of the material, his selfless generosity to his audience, and his desire - or was it determination - to share both with us that day.
__
Recently, I saw the play again... with Kevin Spacey in the role of James Tyrone, Jr. Normally, I cannot be objective where Spacey is concerned, because he is one of my favorite actors. In this case, however, I have to confess, he could not inhabit the person of Tyrone for me. It belongs forever to someone else. I found myself longing to see Byrne again.
I'm thinking In Treatment may turn out to be treatment for me!
There. Now that I have that out of my system, I'll move on to discussing the show: Uh, I like it. *chortle* It satisfies some seedy sense of voyeurism I never knew I had in me...
More later.
CM
Photo: Courtesy NY TIMES
© Copyright 2008 Carol Marsella. All rights reserved.
I'll be writing my thoughts on the show as it progresses, but, today, I'm just making note of how delighted I am to see Gabriel Byrne again!
I first saw him a few years ago in NYC. He was appearing in Eugene O'Neill's A Moon for the Misbegotten, and I was utterly mesmerized by his performance. Since then, I miss no opportunity to see him. A fan? Me? Well, glory be, I guess I am. ... and I dare suggest you will be, too, once you experience his work.
It was the spring of two-thousand. I obtained tickets to the (sold out) play which was onstage at the Walter Kerr Theater, one of the medium sized houses. Eugene O'Neill happens to be one of my favorite playwrights, and the idea of seeing the exquisite Ray Dotrice in the role of Phil Hogan made it an irresistible must-see. (Now that I think of it, I'm fairly certain Mr. Dotrice won the Tony for this portrayal in the Best Actor in a Featured Role category).
It was the first time I ever saw Gabriel Byrne. He was the brave soul who took on the challenging role of James Tyrone, Jr. and I had no idea what to expect where he was concerned. Not terribly ambitious about learning, I checked briefly online, and read that he was an Irish Actor. Saints preserve us! Being the Anglophile that I am, this pleased me immensely, and enough said. (As it happens, I am also fairly certain that Mr. Byrne was nominated for a Tony for this part, but I do not believe he took the statue home...)
Cherry Jones, another under appreciated, superbly brilliant actress rounded out the cast as Josie Hogan. This put me over the moon. I was just desperate for the days to pass until I would see it!
Sitting in the theater, in my center section aisle seat in the tenth row, I checked my watch repeatedly as the auditorium filled to capacity. Finally, the lights lowered and the audience hushed as the curtain began to move. I held my breath...
There is no way for this writer to separate one performance, that Sunday afternoon, from the other. Each acted and reacted to the other in perfect harmony, if you'll forgive me the cliche: like an impeccably rehearsed symphony.
Gabriel Byrne stood out for me because I had never seen him before and, forgive me again, I can be an awful snob when it comes to live theater. He took hold of that character and transported me and, I think, everyone else to the 1940s. It was not just O'Neill's words that took us away; Byrne's body language, his very demeanor, was of a time gone by. What a lovely, magical partnership!
Byrne's obvious love of the material shone through. So many actors simply say lines and move about the stage, gesturing as instructed, and they get rave reviews for doing it. I have been guilty, too, of this kind of acceptance - and as long as I am entertained, this is all right with me... uh, most of the time. It's a given, our Mr. Byrne could have gotten away with giving much less than he did. Fortunately for his audience, however, it would not have been enough for him! He didn't perform Tyrone; he channeled him. There was no definitive line between the here and now and the once upon a time. The assemblage around me disappeared, and I was taken into the story, the proverbial fly on the wall of a real happening.
I want to share about the one jarring moment, that afternoon, that sealed my bond as a fan of this man's work and talent. It was near the play's conclusion. Gabriel Byrne was in the midst of the emotional third act monologue where James Tyrone speaks loving words of confession and apology, revealing the depth of his personhood to Josie Hagen. It is a heart wrenchingly serious time in the play which has, up to this point, been peppered with O'Neill's perfectly placed moments of comedic hilarity.
One of the male audience members, up front and to the actors' right, (my left), made it abundantly clear that he had no knowledge of the story and no realization of the depth of what was happening. He misunderstood the character's intent and let loose a startling guffaw at the precise moment when the actor was escorting the audience to the story's emotional crescendo. The outburst seemed extremely loud, but that may have been because the theater was silent, except for Byrne's voice. My heart sank for the actor as the explosive disturbance caused every head in the audience to turn. I wondered how he would be able to maintain his momentum and the integrity of the scene. Feeling generous, I decided no matter how he chose to handle it, my admiration for his performance would remain intact.
To my astonishment, Mr. Byrne did not need my forgiveness. His hold on the character, the time and space, and the audience never faltered. Without any sign on his face or in his cadence that he heard the young man's misguided outburst, he skillfully ushered us along on our journey to the story's conclusion and kept us unscathed.
To this day, I remember that moment, and I don't know how he did it. I have seen things like this happen to other performers and felt just as heartsick for them as I did for Mr. Byrne. Some chose to step out of character and acknowledge the evil-doer, with humor or admonishment; others hesitate, regroup, and start the scene from a previous point. One actor actually forgot the next few lines and took a moment to re-compose himself, but he had lost his focus and the character - and the scene fell flat. All these reactions were understandable. Things happen in live theater, and I feel it would be unjust to hold the actors accountable. (It's a certainty I could not do it.)
I simply do not believe the talent and presence of mind Gabriel Byrne exhibited that afternoon comes along every day. The point I mean to make is: even though I was affected emotionally in that I was so relieved and happy for Byrne because he was not yanked out of character, he continued with such impeccable timing and grace that my exuberance was shelved. It did not come through until after I had thoroughly experienced the emotion and sensitivity O'Neill intended.
Cherry Jones as Josie Hagen comforts Jim Tyrone played by Gabriel Byrne
Eugene Oneill's A Moon for the Misbegotten
Walter Kerr Theater - Spring of 2,000
It was very personal. I shudder just thinking about it, and I know my words fail miserably to express how amazing it was! An unforgettable gift to witness it first hand! Someday, I hope to thank him for his love of the material, his selfless generosity to his audience, and his desire - or was it determination - to share both with us that day.
Recently, I saw the play again... with Kevin Spacey in the role of James Tyrone, Jr. Normally, I cannot be objective where Spacey is concerned, because he is one of my favorite actors. In this case, however, I have to confess, he could not inhabit the person of Tyrone for me. It belongs forever to someone else. I found myself longing to see Byrne again.
I'm thinking In Treatment may turn out to be treatment for me!
There. Now that I have that out of my system, I'll move on to discussing the show: Uh, I like it. *chortle* It satisfies some seedy sense of voyeurism I never knew I had in me...
More later.
CM
Photo: Courtesy NY TIMES
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
SEVEN THINGS ABOUT ME
In accordance to the rules of tagging, I'm to tell seven things about myself that you might not know. Here's my list:
1. I'm shy. You probably can't tell because I enjoy internetting, blogging, forum conversation, and chats. They afford a sense of anonymity that I find comfortable. In real life, however, I feel boring and uninteresting and I stop myself from asking the questions that fill my head (perpetually) for fear of sounding more like an interrogator than an interested friend. (Henceforth, I R a writer).
1. I'm shy. You probably can't tell because I enjoy internetting, blogging, forum conversation, and chats. They afford a sense of anonymity that I find comfortable. In real life, however, I feel boring and uninteresting and I stop myself from asking the questions that fill my head (perpetually) for fear of sounding more like an interrogator than an interested friend. (Henceforth, I R a writer).
2. Steve hates watching TV with me because I talk back to the screen. Lately, though, I can report that he has begun to holler at the characters, comedians, and gossip, er, I mean news folks. I, on the other hand, being far superior and infinitely more cerebral, *chortle* typically offer my two cents to the writers of the rubbish (and quietly pity the poor, poor actors who are faced with the daunting task of bringing the poorly written, underdeveloped characters to life. LOL!)
3. I am writing a book. This is a recent development, and it came along much like my accidental shopkeeper career. I'm letting serendipity guide me in my choice of careers these days. (Geeze, I better develop my characters well or someone like me will be yipping a bit!)
4. I grew up in foster care, and was adopted when I was nine. I have 1 adopted sister who is younger than me and 12 foster brothers and sisters varying in ages and relationships. That leaves me a person without a clear path, someone who meanders through life. *Insert violin solo here* Are we starting to see a pattern yet?
5. I am a triple Scorpio. I do not get angry about much, but when I do... uh, that is to say, when I get riled up about something, there is simply no shutting me down. Injustice does it... My latest vendeta is against the media for their shabby, shoddy, slothful, libellous reporting. The election reporting has gotten my dander up but (I must confess) it came to a head with the completely irresponsible accusational reports on Heath Ledger after his too-soon demise. It was uncalled-for and pushed me over the edge.
6. I am a cancer survivor. (HA! The media has no idea who they are dealing with!)
7. When I was growing up, my friends dubbed me the Queen of Popcorn because that's the only food I knew how to cook. When Steve and I decided to co-habitate, my friends threw me a recipe party so he wouldn't have to eat popcorn at every meal. (Turns out, popcorn is his favorite thing! Ain't life grand?)
CM
Monday, January 7, 2008
RESOLUTION? I AIN'T AFRAID OF NO RESOLUTION!
All right, well, I have committed to writing 500 words a day and almost forgot already. Not too promising, is it?
In keeping with my resolutions, I started early today, digging into the task of clearing out my office. Having had a mouse, I decided that I need to wash the entire place down with peppermint soap. Starting with my bookcases, because that is where my treasures are, I ceremoniously made my way around the room clearing shelves, dusting, wiping and washing, being sure to turn over the shelves to keep them from bowing. I know it sounds dreadfully boring, but it wasn't.
The ritual of it became mindless soon enough and I was able to let my thoughts drift away.
The cleaning afforded a sense of accomplishment and purging is always uplifting and liberating. The menthol quality of peppermint scent opened up my breathing. Instead of tiring as I moved through the task, I became invigorated and creative. The whole thing really turned me on. I love the way the room looks now and have been meandering into the office all day long just to admire it. How satisfying.
First thing in the morning, I'll get some fresh flowers for my desk.
This is the first year in quite a long time that I have actually made a list of resolutions. I guess that's because it's the first year I have had the time to think about it long enough to realize I really need to make a few serious changes.
Like everyone else on the planet, I have been sitting too much and need to get more active. I allowed the onset of menopause and the aches and pains that accompanied it to excuse me from exercising and walking – and it shows! Not just in my physique, but also in my attitude and luster. Can't have that. I'm not ready to be old yet.
I actually started walking on New Year's Eve just to feel in control and I am already increasing my distance and picking up the pace. It feels really good, especially in the cold. And I feel good about doing it.
Another commitment I have made is to drink more water. I drink a lot of liquid, juice, tea, coffee, even some soda, but had, somewhere along the line, shelved my knowledge of the importance of ingesting a decent amount every day of cool, clear water. I have no explanation for that; it just happened.
I know you expect me to write that I need to write more. Nope. Not gonna do that. I need to write less. Well, actually, I need to schedule my writing time better. I have responsibilities besides writing and must give them their fair due.
My family wants more from me than they are getting and it has indeed been bothering me for quite some time. (Catching the virus really opened my eyes to that, and I am grateful.) My family is happier, and that is everything to me. Don't let anyone give you that bullshit about not being able to do everything. We can do it. It just takes thought and preparation. I am doing it and everything is working better. The results are, uh, new and improved.
I have committed to write 500 words daily.
I have committed to learn something new every day.
I have committed to learn a new recipe each week.
I have committed to pursuing my photography.
I have committed to traveling more this year.
I am thinking about committing to voice lessons again. (As I am aging, my voice is changing and I need some coaching.)
I have committed to having lunch with friends once a week.
I have committed to inviting friends and family over for dinner instead of eating out whenever we get together.
And
I have committed to stepping out of my comfort zone more…
Not a bad start, right?
Bring it on '08!
CM
W/C 654
In keeping with my resolutions, I started early today, digging into the task of clearing out my office. Having had a mouse, I decided that I need to wash the entire place down with peppermint soap. Starting with my bookcases, because that is where my treasures are, I ceremoniously made my way around the room clearing shelves, dusting, wiping and washing, being sure to turn over the shelves to keep them from bowing. I know it sounds dreadfully boring, but it wasn't.
The ritual of it became mindless soon enough and I was able to let my thoughts drift away.
The cleaning afforded a sense of accomplishment and purging is always uplifting and liberating. The menthol quality of peppermint scent opened up my breathing. Instead of tiring as I moved through the task, I became invigorated and creative. The whole thing really turned me on. I love the way the room looks now and have been meandering into the office all day long just to admire it. How satisfying.
First thing in the morning, I'll get some fresh flowers for my desk.
This is the first year in quite a long time that I have actually made a list of resolutions. I guess that's because it's the first year I have had the time to think about it long enough to realize I really need to make a few serious changes.
Like everyone else on the planet, I have been sitting too much and need to get more active. I allowed the onset of menopause and the aches and pains that accompanied it to excuse me from exercising and walking – and it shows! Not just in my physique, but also in my attitude and luster. Can't have that. I'm not ready to be old yet.
I actually started walking on New Year's Eve just to feel in control and I am already increasing my distance and picking up the pace. It feels really good, especially in the cold. And I feel good about doing it.
Another commitment I have made is to drink more water. I drink a lot of liquid, juice, tea, coffee, even some soda, but had, somewhere along the line, shelved my knowledge of the importance of ingesting a decent amount every day of cool, clear water. I have no explanation for that; it just happened.
I know you expect me to write that I need to write more. Nope. Not gonna do that. I need to write less. Well, actually, I need to schedule my writing time better. I have responsibilities besides writing and must give them their fair due.
My family wants more from me than they are getting and it has indeed been bothering me for quite some time. (Catching the virus really opened my eyes to that, and I am grateful.) My family is happier, and that is everything to me. Don't let anyone give you that bullshit about not being able to do everything. We can do it. It just takes thought and preparation. I am doing it and everything is working better. The results are, uh, new and improved.
I have committed to write 500 words daily.
I have committed to learn something new every day.
I have committed to learn a new recipe each week.
I have committed to pursuing my photography.
I have committed to traveling more this year.
I am thinking about committing to voice lessons again. (As I am aging, my voice is changing and I need some coaching.)
I have committed to having lunch with friends once a week.
I have committed to inviting friends and family over for dinner instead of eating out whenever we get together.
And
I have committed to stepping out of my comfort zone more…
Not a bad start, right?
Bring it on '08!
CM
W/C 654
Saturday, January 5, 2008
You say you want a resolution...
Here's 1. Learn something new every day.
Today I am learning how to post to blogger from my email account. If this works, I will have been successful. If it does not... well, we won't think about that.
CM
--
"Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit." – e. e. cummings
--
"Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit." – e. e. cummings
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