Sunday, December 30
DH plays violin at church
Second day and video uploaded beautifully, following exact same steps as yesterday. Go figure.
The secret to uploading videos on YouTube seems to be giving it a shot 100 times, and finally it goes. I am exhausted after the 72nd time so here is the video, right here. Someone told me that if you check the 2nd day, YouTube will have the video loaded for each time you tried. If that's the case, I'll have 72 versions of it tomorrow and can post a nice little link. Til then, here is the long-awaited song.
After he played, LO asked me why I cried. I told her I'm so thankful for his music; when he had the accident and lost his finger, I thought the music was all over. She replied that she's just thankful we don't have to hear this song anymore. :)
Thursday, December 20
OverWhelmAtion
I am still processing my day so the entry you are reading is not the result of thinking about, but the very act of doing so.
Today was Criminal Justice Day for my Leadership group. We started out by meeting at the city's police station. Our police chief talked to us, then the gangs guy, then the Juvenile Courts Counselor, then the District Judge. He was followed by two social service agencies, both partially privately-funded, who serve juveniles who have run afoul of the law. Then we had lunch. Whew. A full morning.
Following lunch, we boarded a city bus which took us to the edge of town to visit our high-rise prison. Well, for our town it's high-rise. I guess it's about 10 stories? The highest building in Our Fair City is 8. :)
The woman who gave us our tour was phenomenal. She's a case worker for the inmates and gave us a detailed tour of the facility. We walked in the "yard," surrounded by walls topped with coiled razor wire. We were stared at by the inmates as they pumped iron, played basketball, or just stood in the mild afternoon and chatted.
We saw the open showers and johns. We toured the dining hall. Our guide held up a plastic spork and asked how we would like to eat with these for 15 years. Yikes. Crime deterrent, there. No, all jokes aside, the public john is enough to deter me from ever committing a crime.
We toured the un-air-conditioned processing center. We saw the laundry area. There is a furniture factory on the grounds where well-behaved inmates can work, earning up to $10 a day. Most prison have Enterprise opportunities like this. Their products go back to the State.
Finally, we were escorted to a dayroom where four inmates told us about their prison experience as well as their crimes. Three of the four are convicted murderers, 1 first-degree, 2 second-degree, and the fourth fellow was convicted of aggrevated assault. They have all been in for about 15 years and the soonest one to get out will be released in 5 years.
They talked about what it's like to be in prison (you never, ever let your guard down.) They shared that every prisoner cries in bed at night on occasion. They talked about monotony, and missing your family. They were all attractive, young men, 1 black, 3 white; 1 shaved head, 3 with short hair. (We did observe some men in the yard with very long hair, so apparently short hair is not the only option.) They talked about their crimes, although not one of them stated, "I shot a man" -- the wording was always something like, "Someone got shot." They were articulate men, using words like "ironic" and "dogmatic." Had I seen them in another setting, and had the conversation been on another topic, I would never have thought they were convicts, much less killers. Our conversation with them was ended too, too quickly, and we had run out of time. We had to move on to see a SWAT demonstration and K9 unit across the county.
There are 23 people in our program. Bankers, social workers, a hospital administrator, a couple of private business employees, 4 county or city workers, and me. As we walked out of the prison, everyone was chatting, laughing, being very normal -- everyone except myself and one other person. The other gal was overwhelmed by the dehumanization of the whole thing. She felt there must be another to rehabilitate the offenders. She was able to explain clearly why she was emotional.
Me -- I was not so articulate. I was just blown away by the whole experience. Could not understand why everyone was joking and laughing as if things were normal. Why did they not need to be quiet and process all they had just seen? Why were they so loud? I found it annoying, and this further exacerbated my frustration.
I still don't know how I feel -- just that I FEEL. I'm not quite the bleeding heart that my friend was. She felt the prison environment was wrong -- that the inmates were too dehumanized by the whole process. I had to remind her that society deserves protection, too. She begrudgingly agreed.
I am still processing. I don't know that I am capable of figuring out HOW I feel about it all. More likely in a day or two I will find a way to proceed around it. It was overwhelming, and my spirit struggled to breathe.
What a day.
Today was Criminal Justice Day for my Leadership group. We started out by meeting at the city's police station. Our police chief talked to us, then the gangs guy, then the Juvenile Courts Counselor, then the District Judge. He was followed by two social service agencies, both partially privately-funded, who serve juveniles who have run afoul of the law. Then we had lunch. Whew. A full morning.
Following lunch, we boarded a city bus which took us to the edge of town to visit our high-rise prison. Well, for our town it's high-rise. I guess it's about 10 stories? The highest building in Our Fair City is 8. :)
The woman who gave us our tour was phenomenal. She's a case worker for the inmates and gave us a detailed tour of the facility. We walked in the "yard," surrounded by walls topped with coiled razor wire. We were stared at by the inmates as they pumped iron, played basketball, or just stood in the mild afternoon and chatted.
We saw the open showers and johns. We toured the dining hall. Our guide held up a plastic spork and asked how we would like to eat with these for 15 years. Yikes. Crime deterrent, there. No, all jokes aside, the public john is enough to deter me from ever committing a crime.
We toured the un-air-conditioned processing center. We saw the laundry area. There is a furniture factory on the grounds where well-behaved inmates can work, earning up to $10 a day. Most prison have Enterprise opportunities like this. Their products go back to the State.
Finally, we were escorted to a dayroom where four inmates told us about their prison experience as well as their crimes. Three of the four are convicted murderers, 1 first-degree, 2 second-degree, and the fourth fellow was convicted of aggrevated assault. They have all been in for about 15 years and the soonest one to get out will be released in 5 years.
They talked about what it's like to be in prison (you never, ever let your guard down.) They shared that every prisoner cries in bed at night on occasion. They talked about monotony, and missing your family. They were all attractive, young men, 1 black, 3 white; 1 shaved head, 3 with short hair. (We did observe some men in the yard with very long hair, so apparently short hair is not the only option.) They talked about their crimes, although not one of them stated, "I shot a man" -- the wording was always something like, "Someone got shot." They were articulate men, using words like "ironic" and "dogmatic." Had I seen them in another setting, and had the conversation been on another topic, I would never have thought they were convicts, much less killers. Our conversation with them was ended too, too quickly, and we had run out of time. We had to move on to see a SWAT demonstration and K9 unit across the county.
There are 23 people in our program. Bankers, social workers, a hospital administrator, a couple of private business employees, 4 county or city workers, and me. As we walked out of the prison, everyone was chatting, laughing, being very normal -- everyone except myself and one other person. The other gal was overwhelmed by the dehumanization of the whole thing. She felt there must be another to rehabilitate the offenders. She was able to explain clearly why she was emotional.
Me -- I was not so articulate. I was just blown away by the whole experience. Could not understand why everyone was joking and laughing as if things were normal. Why did they not need to be quiet and process all they had just seen? Why were they so loud? I found it annoying, and this further exacerbated my frustration.
I still don't know how I feel -- just that I FEEL. I'm not quite the bleeding heart that my friend was. She felt the prison environment was wrong -- that the inmates were too dehumanized by the whole process. I had to remind her that society deserves protection, too. She begrudgingly agreed.
I am still processing. I don't know that I am capable of figuring out HOW I feel about it all. More likely in a day or two I will find a way to proceed around it. It was overwhelming, and my spirit struggled to breathe.
What a day.
Wednesday, December 12
Hope
Our church recently adopted an elementary school with a high percentage of youth from low-income homes. In fact, it's the school LO went to.
Schools are rated as "high risk" based on their percentage of students who apply for and receive free or reduced-price lunches. This school's percentage is over 70%.
By adopting the school, the church has encouraged all of us to volunteer one hour a week at the school, mentoring a student. You can go have lunch with him, arrange with the teacher for a time to read with him, or help her with math, --whatever the child needs -- and the recommended time is only 1 hour a week.
I signed up. I had tutored there throughout LO's 6 years there (K-5) and was active on PTA, etc, so I am quite comfortable there. All the staff know me and I know my way around.
I was not assigned to one student, but to a class, to read with children one at a time. There are about 6 students who don't have support at home to read every night and need someone to read to.
DH did not sign up, but a pretty up-front friend of his confronted him at Bible study about it. Now he attends with me when he is not working. My day to go is Wednesday, so he tags along on 2 or 3 Wednesdays a month. The kids seem to accept him well even though his attendance is pretty erratic.
I love reading with them. They bring their library book, sit next to me, open the book, and begin to read. I help them with hard words and encourage them. At the end of the book, I ask them to tell me what the book was about. They have to take a test on the book, so I try to be sure they comprehended it well before they go take the test. The test is on the computer and at this level, it's typically 5 multiple-choice questions. Missing only one question drops the score to an 80! So I review briefly with them.
At first I did not know the children. Of course, some are more personable than others. Some opened up immediately, while some took a while to warm up to me.
There is one child who took a while. Now, I do believe she enjoys seeing me. She has a crossed eye but I do not notice it anymore. Her name is about 10 or 12 letters long, but I think of her as Hope.
Several weeks ago, she asked me if I do not work. I told her I am a writer, so I get to work at home, and I can take a little break to come to the school and help. She smiled and replied, "I'm a writer, too." Oh, really? "Yes," she said. "I have a story in that red folder over there. I must read it to you sometime." I would like that, I said.
Today her book was especially long. Good, but long. As we progress through a book, her head gets closer and closer to the page. I worry if her glasses are strong enough. Today as we were about 3/4 done with the book, I asked if she were getting tired. "No," she said. "I love to read. I love to write, too. My story is over there in that red folder. I must read it to you sometime."
That's how it goes with volunteering. You start out thinking you are doing something for someone else, but you become richer every time.
This child reminds me of hope and optimism. She has an undeniable faith in herself. She believes anything is possible. She's not afraid.
I've got to ask the teacher if we can have a few minutes to get the red folder. Next week for sure.
Schools are rated as "high risk" based on their percentage of students who apply for and receive free or reduced-price lunches. This school's percentage is over 70%.
By adopting the school, the church has encouraged all of us to volunteer one hour a week at the school, mentoring a student. You can go have lunch with him, arrange with the teacher for a time to read with him, or help her with math, --whatever the child needs -- and the recommended time is only 1 hour a week.
I signed up. I had tutored there throughout LO's 6 years there (K-5) and was active on PTA, etc, so I am quite comfortable there. All the staff know me and I know my way around.
I was not assigned to one student, but to a class, to read with children one at a time. There are about 6 students who don't have support at home to read every night and need someone to read to.
DH did not sign up, but a pretty up-front friend of his confronted him at Bible study about it. Now he attends with me when he is not working. My day to go is Wednesday, so he tags along on 2 or 3 Wednesdays a month. The kids seem to accept him well even though his attendance is pretty erratic.
I love reading with them. They bring their library book, sit next to me, open the book, and begin to read. I help them with hard words and encourage them. At the end of the book, I ask them to tell me what the book was about. They have to take a test on the book, so I try to be sure they comprehended it well before they go take the test. The test is on the computer and at this level, it's typically 5 multiple-choice questions. Missing only one question drops the score to an 80! So I review briefly with them.
At first I did not know the children. Of course, some are more personable than others. Some opened up immediately, while some took a while to warm up to me.
There is one child who took a while. Now, I do believe she enjoys seeing me. She has a crossed eye but I do not notice it anymore. Her name is about 10 or 12 letters long, but I think of her as Hope.
Several weeks ago, she asked me if I do not work. I told her I am a writer, so I get to work at home, and I can take a little break to come to the school and help. She smiled and replied, "I'm a writer, too." Oh, really? "Yes," she said. "I have a story in that red folder over there. I must read it to you sometime." I would like that, I said.
Today her book was especially long. Good, but long. As we progress through a book, her head gets closer and closer to the page. I worry if her glasses are strong enough. Today as we were about 3/4 done with the book, I asked if she were getting tired. "No," she said. "I love to read. I love to write, too. My story is over there in that red folder. I must read it to you sometime."
That's how it goes with volunteering. You start out thinking you are doing something for someone else, but you become richer every time.
This child reminds me of hope and optimism. She has an undeniable faith in herself. She believes anything is possible. She's not afraid.
I've got to ask the teacher if we can have a few minutes to get the red folder. Next week for sure.
Tuesday, December 11
Solo at Band Concert
Little One's middle school band played at the local mall today. It was great! She had a solo in "Silent Night" on her flute. Here is a video of the solo. Her band director walked by 2 or 3 or maybe 4 times.
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Saturday, December 8
Juvie
This month for our Leadership program, the assignment was to visit court or ride with a policeman for the evening. I really wanted to ride with a cop, but decided to visit Juvenile Court and to take LO as she aspires to be a defense attorney when she grows up, possibly going on to be a judge later.
I wrote to the principal for permission for LO to miss school, excused, for this educational field trip, and she granted it. LO has to write a report on what she learned and make up any work she missed.
Court started at 9am and we had to have her back to school by 10:30. As it turns out, an hour and fifteen minutes was "aplenty." I'm not sure how much more I could have absorbed.
Two of my Leadership classmates attended this same session; we ran into each other there at the courthouse, so we sat together. They are two whom I really care for, and I was glad we shared the experience.
Without sharing too much, I will give a brief listing of some of the things we saw in just a little over an hour.
I wrote to the principal for permission for LO to miss school, excused, for this educational field trip, and she granted it. LO has to write a report on what she learned and make up any work she missed.
Court started at 9am and we had to have her back to school by 10:30. As it turns out, an hour and fifteen minutes was "aplenty." I'm not sure how much more I could have absorbed.
Two of my Leadership classmates attended this same session; we ran into each other there at the courthouse, so we sat together. They are two whom I really care for, and I was glad we shared the experience.
Without sharing too much, I will give a brief listing of some of the things we saw in just a little over an hour.
- We saw a case where the defendent was so young the attorney asked for a psych eval to see if he was mature enough to understand his wrongdoing and the consequences he faced. The judge agreed. His height was just a little above, say, my waist.
- We saw a 15 year old young woman who got into a fight at the high school because a girl was talking ugly about her baby's daddy. She attacked the girl in the guidance office. She kicked the other girl in the stomach.
- We saw a girl the same age as LO (12) who has been smoking marijuana for 3 years. She is dating a 15 year old fellow who has an outstanding charge for possession. The girl is charged with selling on the bus (felony).
- We saw a boy in the 8th grade who has been smoking marijuana since he was 9. He regretted his actions because he was kicked off the football team.
The judge demonstrated amazing talent at getting the story out of the youths. They would obscure, lie, and gloss over. He stuck with it and got the story out. He had a way of knowing when there was more to it than being told. I guess it comes from seeing it every day.
At one point, he was so exasperated with a parent, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. I knew he was searching for the words -- he did not want to ask this parent, "How stupid can you be?" I chuckled and LO asked me what was funny. I told her we would talk later.
LO closely watched the defense attorneys, many of whom were court-appointed. She would remark, "This guy is good," or other comments as they made their pleas for their clients.
In retrospect, I am so glad we shared this experience. I look forward to seeing what she writes for the report. The spectre of this experience has been hanging over me for 24 hours now, and it was just an hour and a quarter.
The Next Day
After my intensive care on the sofa last night, ice on 20 minutes, off 20 minutes, repeat, I am proud to say my ankle is muchmuch better this morning. I can walk without great pain. It is not nearly as colorful, nor as painful, as I had feared. The knees are painful without color and I really believe I will be fine in a day or two.
LO had fun at her dance last night. It seems the girls dance with their gf's and the boys dance around them.
Her progress report this week was excellent with one little oopsie which she will address. Her reading grade was not an A. She has to have 35 pts a quarter for reading, and she selected a whopper of a book worth 30 pts. She is still reading it and so had zero reading pts averaged in with the rest of her grades, which were pretty good. Altogether it came out to a C, but it was mid-term progress report, not report card. We just aknowledged that's what progress reports are for -- to let you know where you need to catch up. I gave her a kiss for all her other grades, which were not only A's but high A's, all above 95%, and a smack on the fanny at the same time. A soft smack.
She has been reading like a madwoman since.
DH's violin is truly coming along. He sounds like a cat in heat only sometimes and his instructor is so proud of him.
My Artists' Way group is turning to be so great. We all started canvases (2 s's there or 1?) canvasses? --I believe it's one -- canvases about 5 weeks ago and then we drew names out of a hat and traded canvases. My canvas will visit the homes of each person in the group, who adds to the painting, and finally I get it back, a completed work of art with contributions from each member in the group. As each person paints on it, s/he signs the wooden stretcher on the back. It has been a lot of fun each week to get a new painting and decide what I want to add to it. We finish up next week and will start anew with the new year. I have learned a lot in the discussions and have enjoyed making new friends. I believe I will continue with the group in the new year.
LO had fun at her dance last night. It seems the girls dance with their gf's and the boys dance around them.
Her progress report this week was excellent with one little oopsie which she will address. Her reading grade was not an A. She has to have 35 pts a quarter for reading, and she selected a whopper of a book worth 30 pts. She is still reading it and so had zero reading pts averaged in with the rest of her grades, which were pretty good. Altogether it came out to a C, but it was mid-term progress report, not report card. We just aknowledged that's what progress reports are for -- to let you know where you need to catch up. I gave her a kiss for all her other grades, which were not only A's but high A's, all above 95%, and a smack on the fanny at the same time. A soft smack.
She has been reading like a madwoman since.
DH's violin is truly coming along. He sounds like a cat in heat only sometimes and his instructor is so proud of him.
My Artists' Way group is turning to be so great. We all started canvases (2 s's there or 1?) canvasses? --I believe it's one -- canvases about 5 weeks ago and then we drew names out of a hat and traded canvases. My canvas will visit the homes of each person in the group, who adds to the painting, and finally I get it back, a completed work of art with contributions from each member in the group. As each person paints on it, s/he signs the wooden stretcher on the back. It has been a lot of fun each week to get a new painting and decide what I want to add to it. We finish up next week and will start anew with the new year. I have learned a lot in the discussions and have enjoyed making new friends. I believe I will continue with the group in the new year.
Friday, December 7
Time Travel
Two of my sweet grandsons are interested lately in time travel, and it occurs to me how STILL time seems to stand, while you are, say, falling down the basement steps.
Things go through your mind, astute things, things like, "Hey, I -- am -- falling."
Things like, "I can't get hurt; I need to go see my MIL next week."
Things like, "Don't spill laundry all over the basement."
I felt that I would never land. I wound up on my back in the workshop withOUT a pair of drawers on my head, still holding the laundry basket. Did not spill a thing.
But I did scream. Yelled. Cried. LO came down the stairs and was sososo helpful. Called her Papaw. He talked to me on the phone and had me take inventory. I am fine, 2 sore knees and a sprained ankle.
Glad it's not worse. No blood, not a scratch, just very sore and mad that I fell. DH said he has been waiting for this to happen. Well. Now it has happened. Maybe it's over.
We had a date planned as LO had a school dance tonight. Instead, he served me wine, warm brie, sourdough bread, grapes and fresh blackberries as big as your thumb.
Hmm. Not such a bad fall, after all.
Things go through your mind, astute things, things like, "Hey, I -- am -- falling."
Things like, "I can't get hurt; I need to go see my MIL next week."
Things like, "Don't spill laundry all over the basement."
I felt that I would never land. I wound up on my back in the workshop withOUT a pair of drawers on my head, still holding the laundry basket. Did not spill a thing.
But I did scream. Yelled. Cried. LO came down the stairs and was sososo helpful. Called her Papaw. He talked to me on the phone and had me take inventory. I am fine, 2 sore knees and a sprained ankle.
Glad it's not worse. No blood, not a scratch, just very sore and mad that I fell. DH said he has been waiting for this to happen. Well. Now it has happened. Maybe it's over.
We had a date planned as LO had a school dance tonight. Instead, he served me wine, warm brie, sourdough bread, grapes and fresh blackberries as big as your thumb.
Hmm. Not such a bad fall, after all.
Saturday, November 24
BANG!
Almost 25 years ago, my DS2 made this Thanksgiving card for me. He had recently gotten one of those plastic rulers that had a template of the ABC's in it.
In case this image is too faded to see, it says, "For: MOM, From: Timothy, HAPPY (turkey) DAY"
This side says,
"I am thankful mostly for you mom."
(I have always assumed he meant he was thankful for me more than anything else, NOT that he was mostly, but not completely, thankful for me.)
At the bottom, it says,
"Your the best A heart can hold. your a Great mom."
Thursday, November 22
Thanksgiving, continued..
DS1 arrived last night at the home of DS2 and his fam, bringing his DW and 2 babies. Long trip! Their trip from NYC to DC was supposed to take only 4 hrs, while ours from NC to DC took 6. He chose, however, to take ANY highway other than I-95, so he went by way of Hershey, PA. On a trip from NYC to DC. Somewhere around Philly, his 1-yr-old son projected vomitus all over the rental car, so DS and DDIL had to pull off, go to a WalMart, (yes, my kids shop at WalMart) and BUY the stuff to clean the car...and then had to clean the car, the kids, yuck.
Today we have 6 kids and 6 adults all doing different things, the Macy's parade on the TV, our dog and DS2's bearded collie, all in this lovely home. It's noisy, frenetic, and filled with love.
If you are having a crazy Thanksgiving somewhere, perhaps it will make you feel better to envision being 6 months pregnant, in the dark, madly cleaning a rental car, 200 miles from home, 200 miles from your destination, with tired and pukey kids. It's all a matter of perspective.
Last night I promised DGS3 I would play Connect Four "in the morning." Before any coffee this morning, he reminded me of our promise. Both of us clambered over the baby-gates on the stairwell and went up to the sanctity of his room for the game. He already had it out on his floor. We were assembling the structure when he calmly announced, "Nana Maggie, it might be a long game. The bottom piece that keeps all the parts inside is broken."
:)
Today we have 6 kids and 6 adults all doing different things, the Macy's parade on the TV, our dog and DS2's bearded collie, all in this lovely home. It's noisy, frenetic, and filled with love.
If you are having a crazy Thanksgiving somewhere, perhaps it will make you feel better to envision being 6 months pregnant, in the dark, madly cleaning a rental car, 200 miles from home, 200 miles from your destination, with tired and pukey kids. It's all a matter of perspective.
Last night I promised DGS3 I would play Connect Four "in the morning." Before any coffee this morning, he reminded me of our promise. Both of us clambered over the baby-gates on the stairwell and went up to the sanctity of his room for the game. He already had it out on his floor. We were assembling the structure when he calmly announced, "Nana Maggie, it might be a long game. The bottom piece that keeps all the parts inside is broken."
:)
Wednesday, November 21
Visiting the kids
We had a safe trip to visit the kids for Thanksgiving. Here are a few pics of the art hanging in the house, painted by the children:
This one hangs in the living room, by GS1. It's about 40"w x 39"h.
This one hangs on the landing, by GS2. It's about 8"x12".
This one was done by DS2 in his high school art class. It hangs in the family room. It's about 24"hx16"w. He's a guy of many talents.
Here we are chilling on their deck. Check out the beautiful color in the woods.
And here is the sunset as seen from the deck. Sigh. It's been a beautiful day.
Saturday, November 17
Catching up
It has been an action-packed week here. DH has been on night shift, which adds a whole 'nother layer of intensity on my part. He usually takes the dog for that last nightly walk. He usually sits down in front of the TV, which pretty much settles the house down for the night. I usually cook a nice dinner when he is home, which sets the tone of "settled" around here.
When he is on night shift, LO and I run out for sushi, play cards, and do all the things you do when things are relaxed. We prefer that settled feeling, and are both relieved when night shift is over. Unfortunately it comes around every other week or so!
I have been working 20 hours a week in addition to the writing thing, and trying to keep up with all the meetings I am unfortunately in. I declined so many positions this summer, anticipating this Leadership program: how on earth did I wind up overcommitted again?
Our Band Booster club met this week (I am secretary). We meet at a decent restaurant and the other Band Rats sit at their own table and order dinner like grownups. LO sat with 2 of her gf's while we sat at the big table and met. It works out beautifully.
The week is a blur of other activity. Taking LO places, calling moms to carpool, getting her homework done, keeping up the house, interviewing people, working on our presentation for Leadership program.
Wednesday we had quite a bit of organizing to do. Her all-county band tryouts were on Thursday and I had Leadership all day. I had to load our team's presentation on the laptop and pack the backpack with laptop and speakers. We were on the road with our group all day and I had to lug the laptop around all day!! The presentations were a competition and I am so proud our team WON! We worked so hard on it. I personally had 17 hours of work in preparing the slide show -- with sound effects for each slide.
Left Leadership and zoomed to the middle school to pick up LO. She was a bit despondent, felt her sight-reading audition had not gone well. "Nana, the lines were HERE and the note was an inch above!" I asked how she had handled it and she replied that she had told the judge, "I don't know this note." The judge told her what note it was. LO found it on her flute and continued to play. I tried to comfort her. I honestly feel she did the totally right thing! She felt she had not made it into the All-County Band.
Yesterday I worked again, drove to nearby town to a business I do PR for, zoomed back to town to run errands, went to doctor, and picked up LO. She had good news! She had made it into All-County!! 31 flautists from 8 schools tried out. 12 made it. She is chair #6. We are proud.
Last night she went to a birthday party -- for a boy. DH and I are beginning to adapt to her goings-about. Last Friday she went with a gf to the high school football game. All her friends were there and they stayed in a group all evening.
While she was out, DH went to his violin lesson and I went to the opening reception for winter season at the museum. He met me there and we headed to a local wine place where a friend was playing jazz for the evening. Had to scoot at 8:45 to pick up LO and back home again.
About the doctor: I went to the doctor yesterday, nurse pract. actually, for a spot that is 1/4" x 1/4". Total hypochondriac!! On Sunday, 04.Nov, I woke up with a red and stinging earlobe. I did not realize it but pulled on it and scratched it most of the morning until LO said it was beet red. Then I realized it had been burning and itching. That afternoon and the next 3 days it was swollen, red, and weeping clear liquid. I assumed a spider had bitten me - please realize we do not see insects in this house! But it seemed to be a spider bite.
Over the next week and half, I've been applying hydrocortisone cream to it. We didn't have any Rx hydrocortisone, so I was just using 1%. It did not really help with the burning and itching, but did seem to help a little with the swelling.
Late last week, the site got scaly and tough. Probably from the cream? It never did seem to start improving, and this week it began to develop these weird blisters. Thursday night it hurt so badly it woke me up!!! Yesterday I decided that after almost 2 weeks, it should be GONE so I called the doctor. The nurse saw me and said it likely is a spider bite, but definitely is not a brown recluse bite. I am on 2 prescriptions, both internal, nothing topical, and I return to see her Monday. All for a 1/4"x1/4" spot!
When he is on night shift, LO and I run out for sushi, play cards, and do all the things you do when things are relaxed. We prefer that settled feeling, and are both relieved when night shift is over. Unfortunately it comes around every other week or so!
I have been working 20 hours a week in addition to the writing thing, and trying to keep up with all the meetings I am unfortunately in. I declined so many positions this summer, anticipating this Leadership program: how on earth did I wind up overcommitted again?
Our Band Booster club met this week (I am secretary). We meet at a decent restaurant and the other Band Rats sit at their own table and order dinner like grownups. LO sat with 2 of her gf's while we sat at the big table and met. It works out beautifully.
The week is a blur of other activity. Taking LO places, calling moms to carpool, getting her homework done, keeping up the house, interviewing people, working on our presentation for Leadership program.
Wednesday we had quite a bit of organizing to do. Her all-county band tryouts were on Thursday and I had Leadership all day. I had to load our team's presentation on the laptop and pack the backpack with laptop and speakers. We were on the road with our group all day and I had to lug the laptop around all day!! The presentations were a competition and I am so proud our team WON! We worked so hard on it. I personally had 17 hours of work in preparing the slide show -- with sound effects for each slide.
Left Leadership and zoomed to the middle school to pick up LO. She was a bit despondent, felt her sight-reading audition had not gone well. "Nana, the lines were HERE and the note was an inch above!" I asked how she had handled it and she replied that she had told the judge, "I don't know this note." The judge told her what note it was. LO found it on her flute and continued to play. I tried to comfort her. I honestly feel she did the totally right thing! She felt she had not made it into the All-County Band.
Yesterday I worked again, drove to nearby town to a business I do PR for, zoomed back to town to run errands, went to doctor, and picked up LO. She had good news! She had made it into All-County!! 31 flautists from 8 schools tried out. 12 made it. She is chair #6. We are proud.
Last night she went to a birthday party -- for a boy. DH and I are beginning to adapt to her goings-about. Last Friday she went with a gf to the high school football game. All her friends were there and they stayed in a group all evening.
While she was out, DH went to his violin lesson and I went to the opening reception for winter season at the museum. He met me there and we headed to a local wine place where a friend was playing jazz for the evening. Had to scoot at 8:45 to pick up LO and back home again.
About the doctor: I went to the doctor yesterday, nurse pract. actually, for a spot that is 1/4" x 1/4". Total hypochondriac!! On Sunday, 04.Nov, I woke up with a red and stinging earlobe. I did not realize it but pulled on it and scratched it most of the morning until LO said it was beet red. Then I realized it had been burning and itching. That afternoon and the next 3 days it was swollen, red, and weeping clear liquid. I assumed a spider had bitten me - please realize we do not see insects in this house! But it seemed to be a spider bite.
Over the next week and half, I've been applying hydrocortisone cream to it. We didn't have any Rx hydrocortisone, so I was just using 1%. It did not really help with the burning and itching, but did seem to help a little with the swelling.
Late last week, the site got scaly and tough. Probably from the cream? It never did seem to start improving, and this week it began to develop these weird blisters. Thursday night it hurt so badly it woke me up!!! Yesterday I decided that after almost 2 weeks, it should be GONE so I called the doctor. The nurse saw me and said it likely is a spider bite, but definitely is not a brown recluse bite. I am on 2 prescriptions, both internal, nothing topical, and I return to see her Monday. All for a 1/4"x1/4" spot!
Saturday, November 3
Wednesday, October 31
Halloween
Halloween is a big night in our neighborhood. Here is the house, waiting for 15 seventh-graders to come over for the parade and trick-or-treating. This year we included boys on the guest list, first time ever.
Here are the crew. A few of them arrived after this picture due to football practice.
The local hot dog man brings his cart for neighbors to grab a protein bite before all the candy. He racks up! Here he is at 5:15. We passed him while trick-or-treating at 7:15 and there was still a line waiting for dogs.
I am not sure why the police are so good to us. This year not one, but TWO cars came, one to lead the parade and one to follow. The police were all smiles. They watched the costume contest and even clapped for the winners.
This shot shows a little of the crowd during the contest. The fellow leaning over with his arm out was the MC. He is a judge in the real courts. The 2 adults in right corner were the contest judges, in robes. The taller fellow is a real judge, too.
This is one of our sweet little neighbors. I emailed his mom the picture; thought she would like to have a copy printed.
This is one of Little One's bfs. She was a tree. She won first place! In fact, our crew of seventh graders did well: they won 4 of the costume prizes! Not sure if you can see, but there was a bird nest on her shoulder, complete with bird and eggs. Also note the roots on her feet.
The kids began arriving at our house at 4:30 and the last one left at 8:45. We were pooped but happy. When I dropped LO off at school this morning, she said, "You know, Nana, it was the party of the year."
Suddenly I wasn't so tired.
Celebration of Life
I had the good fortune this month to write a story for a Seniors' magazine. It's published here in Small Town USA and has local distribution.
I called the Coach from outside Leadership on my cell phone during potty break. Fortunately I had his cell number and more fortunately, caught up with him. He agreed to a phone interview at 5pm.
Leaving Leadership and driving across town to Little One's tennis match, I put my cell phone on speakerphone and laid it in the console of my car next to the digital audio recorder. The recorded picked up my questions and the Coach's answers as it heard them from the cell phone.
I stayed up late that night getting the story done and sent it to the editor in a timely fashion, and, having scanned in Bob's photographs, sent them in, too.
I had asked her to let me know when the magazine was printed so I could come by and get a few. She called today and gave me 12 copies. I took 4 to Bob's house. He had had more surgery yesterday and was not feeling well; his wife assured me this would definitely cheer him up. I also took several to the Coach. He met me at the parking lot in his high school. As I drove off, I saw him and his buddy eagerly reading the magazine there in the parking lot.
Tonight when we got home from our last tennis match of the season, we had voice mail from Bob. His voice sounded strong and he made no references to his current discomfort. He loved the story and wanted me to know. Ended his message with, "God bless you all." (Doggone it, my phone recorder doesn't have a USB either.)
I am sharing this story because it is one I shall never forget. This is why I write: I get to meet people and learn things and have experiences I would never have otherwise. Yes, it's about the writing, but on a larger scale, it's about the adventure. I am so thankful for the opportunity.
Here is the story in its entirety. Photos are at the end.
“Dear Mr. Steele,” the letter begins, “When I asked someone who he would recommend as the finest track coach of sprinters, he immediately said, ‘Robert Steele.’ He told me you are the best.”
“I am not your usual challenge,” the letter continues. “I am 70 years old and headed to the finals in the North Carolina Senior Games in September…”
Not your usual challenge, indeed. The letter is from Dr. Robert M. Lewis, “Bob” to all who know him. Born in Tennessee, Bob ran track in high school and college. He served for 24 years as Senior Pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Salisbury, retiring in 2002. Eschewing true retirement, he immediately began teaching in and directing the Doctor of Ministry program at Hood Theological Seminary. Bob is a go-getter in the truest sense, and particularly on the track, he loves to go.
The letter continues: “In the local Senior Games, I did the 100 in 14.66 and the 200 in 32.25, without any competition – both times were better than what won the state last year. Yet, I want to make my times better.”
Coach Robert Steele responded by letter.
“Mr. Lewis,
I would be honored to work with you. I coach the AAU track team at Salisbury High. We practice on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday at 6:00pm. If you would like to come to our practice, I will work with you.
Robert Steele”
The two Roberts appear to be quite different. Dr. Lewis, with his fair complexion and white hair, is muscular and strong, weighing only a pound or two more than he did in college. His posture is straight and his gaze is direct. Coach Steele, an African American man, is not as lean as Dr. Lewis, and stands a bit shorter. His broad smile indicates a big heart.
Yet they have similarities, too. In Lewis’ career as a pastor, he guided people on their life travels, providing encouragement and direction to those who looked to him. Dr. Lewis attracted many new members to his church and wrote a weekly column for the Salisbury Post.
Steele is proud of his career as a track and football coach, providing encouragement and direction to thousands of young men. A 1971 graduate of East Rowan High School, he has coached for 31 years. He’s coached 12 state championship teams, 100 individual state champs, and 1 national record holder. He coached 5 champions who competed abroad, representing the US, and has been selected National Coach of the Year on two separate occasions. He is proudest of the 5 state sportsmanship awards his teams have won; he values being a good sport.
Dr. Lewis met with Coach Steele three days a week throughout June and July while he coached the AAU teams, and strictly followed his regimen. When the AAU teams were finished for the summer, Dr. Lewis asked the coach, “What now?”
“Now it’s just you and me,” replied the coach. So Coach Steele continued to train Dr. Lewis, preparing for the State Senior Games in September.
“He timed me from the start,” says Lewis. “I wasn’t aware of it at first, but he timed me on everything. We seemed to always be working on the 400, even though I had planned to run the 100 and 200 as well. One day I asked him. ‘We seem to be focusing on the 400,’ I said. ‘The 400 will be your best race,’ he said. …And I won it handily.”
The state record for the 400 is 1:13 and change. Lewis’ time this year was 1:15. The photo of him crossing the finish line does not show any runners behind him. They’re back there – just not within the range of the camera.
“He knew the 400 would be it because of my endurance, speed and endurance. I didn’t have blazing speed, where I was setting records on the 100. But I have endurance. So next year he says we are going to the 800, the 400 and the 800.”
Lewis also won a bronze in the 100, using it as a warm-up for the 400. The 200 followed the 400, and as Lewis says, “I had spent it all on the 400.”
It’s a miracle, or a testament to his determination, -- or a little of both -- that Dr. Lewis is running at all. In 1995 he had surgery for prostate cancer, followed by 34 radiation treatments. Last year, neck surgery kept him out of the state finals. Having won the local competition in April, he was set to go to states in the fall, but a nagging disk problem in his neck required endoscopic surgery.
As soon as he recovered from the neck surgery, Lewis began running again, but could not help but notice a tightness in his chest when he ran – on the left side. Returning to the doctor’s, he took a treadmill test, which showed that the upper part of his heart was not receiving enough oxygen. This implied blockage of his blood vessels, and surgery again, this time to place a stint in an artery leading to his heart.
Undaunted, he took to the track again as soon as he could. The letter, dated May 14, 2007, shows his determination. Qualifying in locals again in the spring, he trained all summer and won the 400 in Raleigh in September.
Yet more health problems loom over his goals. Gallbladder surgery, repair on a stomach hernia, and removal of a small lump have just been completed. Just out of the hospital, he interviewed for this story while still recovering at home.
Still, the neck is not well. The doctors want to fuse two vertebrae in his neck. “I’ll have to have it done soon, really soon, so I can recover. I have to qualify in the end of April, so I have to have the surgery, recover, and train prior to that. Then I go to the state finals in the end of September in Raleigh. You see, next year is a qualifying year for the nationals, so I want to win the State and go to the Nationals in San Francisco in 2009.”
Dr. Lewis seems undaunted by the prospect of even more surgery. He simply wants to get through it so he can run again, and he definitely plans to train again with Coach Steele.
“We’ve become pretty good friends. At one point, there near the end, I asked him, ‘Why would you want to do this for an old white guy?’”
He smiles his recognizable smile and his eyes sparkle. “And you know what he said? He said, ‘Just as one human being for another.’ ” Lewis leans forward, his smile broadening. “Isn’t that great? ‘One human being for another.’ That’s why he helps me!”
Coach Steele has mutual respect for Dr. Lewis. “I told my daughter about Bob as a life lesson,” he says. “I tried to share what it means to be totally dedicated to a cause. Dr. Lewis’ dedication, at the level he has it, is quite rare. Those individuals who have that drive, determination, are willing to pay the price, for the level of success they are seeking, they do the things winners do.”
“I have been very fortunate to be around some very successful athletes, and Dr. Lewis is definitely one of them.”
He continues. “I believe Dr. Lewis will run the 800 next year if it is humanly possible. We will really take our time, just have to do things the way the doctors want them done. It’s important to me that he continues to remain healthy. I believe he will run the 800, but we want him to do it safely.”
Coach Steele reflects on what he’s learned in working with Dr. Lewis. “I have had the privilege of working with a great many athletes, but rarely have I seen the kind of drive Dr. Lewis has. Dr. Lewis has given me greater motivation. I’ve always been highly motivated; seeing someone want to reach a goal that badly, inspired me. I have a great deal of respect for Dr. Lewis based on his dedication to his cause.
So why does Lewis still want to run?
He thinks for a moment. “That’s a great question. It’s my way of celebrating life. I have always run. I ran in high school, and in college. But the real joy came after my cancer surgery in 1995. That year, I did not run in the Peachtree Classic in Atlanta. I have always run it with friends and family, but that year I did not. The following year, when I went back to the Peachtree, it was a great celebration of life: celebration of another day, another year. These afflictions that I’ve had, the cancer, the heart, now my neck, I need something like this to look forward to.” He reflects for just a moment. “It’s a celebration of life.”
The other runners are back there -- way back there.
The 2 Roberts could not appear to be more different.
The editor is a local gal and she emailed me a few weeks ago and asked if I would do a human interest story on a 70-year-old who ran in the Senior Games in State Capital. The gentleman is a retired pastor who hired a personal trainer to help him run faster. He came within 2 seconds of breaking a long-time State record. I accepted the assignment even before learning he was our retired pastor and the story was a beautiful story of an older white man and a younger African American man working together for a common goal.
Bob was quite competitive even as our pastor. He held new member classes at our church on a quarterly basis and added a great number of members to the church. He wrote a weekly column in the local paper that was widely read by Christians and non-Christians alike. When he retired 5 years ago, there were several letters to the editor saying the folks would miss his columns. In true form, he did not go home to sit but began teaching in and directing the Doctor of Ministry program at the local seminary.
When I write a story, the most challenging part, and the best part, is figuring out how to angle the story. It's like figuring out a puzzle. Being a sudoku/crossword/anagram junkie, this is just more fun for me.
I record all my interviews on a digital recorder. (Doggone, I bought mine just before they came out with one that will connect to your pc via a USB. I have to erase all my interviews rather than save them.)
When writing the story, I listen to the interviews once and make an outline of the key points. As I study the outline the approach typically comes clear. Then, as I actually write the story, I replay the interviews over and over to get the quotes exactly correctly. It's fascinating to watch myself from afar and see how the story emerges; how the key items rise to the top, like cream. (Apologies to all you homogenized young people.)
I got the assignment only a week before the magazine's deadline, but, being a quarterly, she needed the story in this issue before it got too stale. I quickly called Bob and scheduled the interview. That Sunday I was concerned to see him on the prayer list and asked our current pastor what was going on. He shared that Bob was scheduled for surgery on Wednesday -- the very day on which we had scheduled our interview.
I called Bob that afternoon and reminded him we needed to reschedule our interview. The magazine's deadline was Friday, and I had Leadership day at our local Chamber of Commerce on Thursday. (If you are ever considering participating in a Leadership program, you need to be aware it is basically a hostage situation. There are few breaks and your total attention is needed the entire day. If you miss any time, even an hour, it is considered a half-day, and you can't graduate if you miss more than 2 half days. Not complaining, it's a great program, but still, I feel a little like a captive.)
Bob, being the champ he is, agreed to have me into his home Thursday morning at 7am for the interview. I figured I could be as late as 8:20 without being noticed at Leadership as the first half-hour is coffee and mingling.
I arrived at his home at 6:58, very prepared, spare batteries for the recorder and all, and he was quite prepared, had his photos and letter out and ready for me. He was in his robe and slippers, having had surgery the day before. He had the coffee on and we held the interview. I could tell he was physically uncomfortable, but as he warmed up to his story, he forgot most of his pain. We finished the interview in 48 minutes and I got to Leadership by 8am.
I called the Coach from outside Leadership on my cell phone during potty break. Fortunately I had his cell number and more fortunately, caught up with him. He agreed to a phone interview at 5pm.
Leaving Leadership and driving across town to Little One's tennis match, I put my cell phone on speakerphone and laid it in the console of my car next to the digital audio recorder. The recorded picked up my questions and the Coach's answers as it heard them from the cell phone.
I stayed up late that night getting the story done and sent it to the editor in a timely fashion, and, having scanned in Bob's photographs, sent them in, too.
I had asked her to let me know when the magazine was printed so I could come by and get a few. She called today and gave me 12 copies. I took 4 to Bob's house. He had had more surgery yesterday and was not feeling well; his wife assured me this would definitely cheer him up. I also took several to the Coach. He met me at the parking lot in his high school. As I drove off, I saw him and his buddy eagerly reading the magazine there in the parking lot.
Tonight when we got home from our last tennis match of the season, we had voice mail from Bob. His voice sounded strong and he made no references to his current discomfort. He loved the story and wanted me to know. Ended his message with, "God bless you all." (Doggone it, my phone recorder doesn't have a USB either.)
I am sharing this story because it is one I shall never forget. This is why I write: I get to meet people and learn things and have experiences I would never have otherwise. Yes, it's about the writing, but on a larger scale, it's about the adventure. I am so thankful for the opportunity.
Here is the story in its entirety. Photos are at the end.
“Dear Mr. Steele,” the letter begins, “When I asked someone who he would recommend as the finest track coach of sprinters, he immediately said, ‘Robert Steele.’ He told me you are the best.”
“I am not your usual challenge,” the letter continues. “I am 70 years old and headed to the finals in the North Carolina Senior Games in September…”
Not your usual challenge, indeed. The letter is from Dr. Robert M. Lewis, “Bob” to all who know him. Born in Tennessee, Bob ran track in high school and college. He served for 24 years as Senior Pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Salisbury, retiring in 2002. Eschewing true retirement, he immediately began teaching in and directing the Doctor of Ministry program at Hood Theological Seminary. Bob is a go-getter in the truest sense, and particularly on the track, he loves to go.
The letter continues: “In the local Senior Games, I did the 100 in 14.66 and the 200 in 32.25, without any competition – both times were better than what won the state last year. Yet, I want to make my times better.”
Coach Robert Steele responded by letter.
“Mr. Lewis,
I would be honored to work with you. I coach the AAU track team at Salisbury High. We practice on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday at 6:00pm. If you would like to come to our practice, I will work with you.
Robert Steele”
The two Roberts appear to be quite different. Dr. Lewis, with his fair complexion and white hair, is muscular and strong, weighing only a pound or two more than he did in college. His posture is straight and his gaze is direct. Coach Steele, an African American man, is not as lean as Dr. Lewis, and stands a bit shorter. His broad smile indicates a big heart.
Yet they have similarities, too. In Lewis’ career as a pastor, he guided people on their life travels, providing encouragement and direction to those who looked to him. Dr. Lewis attracted many new members to his church and wrote a weekly column for the Salisbury Post.
Steele is proud of his career as a track and football coach, providing encouragement and direction to thousands of young men. A 1971 graduate of East Rowan High School, he has coached for 31 years. He’s coached 12 state championship teams, 100 individual state champs, and 1 national record holder. He coached 5 champions who competed abroad, representing the US, and has been selected National Coach of the Year on two separate occasions. He is proudest of the 5 state sportsmanship awards his teams have won; he values being a good sport.
Dr. Lewis met with Coach Steele three days a week throughout June and July while he coached the AAU teams, and strictly followed his regimen. When the AAU teams were finished for the summer, Dr. Lewis asked the coach, “What now?”
“Now it’s just you and me,” replied the coach. So Coach Steele continued to train Dr. Lewis, preparing for the State Senior Games in September.
“He timed me from the start,” says Lewis. “I wasn’t aware of it at first, but he timed me on everything. We seemed to always be working on the 400, even though I had planned to run the 100 and 200 as well. One day I asked him. ‘We seem to be focusing on the 400,’ I said. ‘The 400 will be your best race,’ he said. …And I won it handily.”
The state record for the 400 is 1:13 and change. Lewis’ time this year was 1:15. The photo of him crossing the finish line does not show any runners behind him. They’re back there – just not within the range of the camera.
“He knew the 400 would be it because of my endurance, speed and endurance. I didn’t have blazing speed, where I was setting records on the 100. But I have endurance. So next year he says we are going to the 800, the 400 and the 800.”
Lewis also won a bronze in the 100, using it as a warm-up for the 400. The 200 followed the 400, and as Lewis says, “I had spent it all on the 400.”
It’s a miracle, or a testament to his determination, -- or a little of both -- that Dr. Lewis is running at all. In 1995 he had surgery for prostate cancer, followed by 34 radiation treatments. Last year, neck surgery kept him out of the state finals. Having won the local competition in April, he was set to go to states in the fall, but a nagging disk problem in his neck required endoscopic surgery.
As soon as he recovered from the neck surgery, Lewis began running again, but could not help but notice a tightness in his chest when he ran – on the left side. Returning to the doctor’s, he took a treadmill test, which showed that the upper part of his heart was not receiving enough oxygen. This implied blockage of his blood vessels, and surgery again, this time to place a stint in an artery leading to his heart.
Undaunted, he took to the track again as soon as he could. The letter, dated May 14, 2007, shows his determination. Qualifying in locals again in the spring, he trained all summer and won the 400 in Raleigh in September.
Yet more health problems loom over his goals. Gallbladder surgery, repair on a stomach hernia, and removal of a small lump have just been completed. Just out of the hospital, he interviewed for this story while still recovering at home.
Still, the neck is not well. The doctors want to fuse two vertebrae in his neck. “I’ll have to have it done soon, really soon, so I can recover. I have to qualify in the end of April, so I have to have the surgery, recover, and train prior to that. Then I go to the state finals in the end of September in Raleigh. You see, next year is a qualifying year for the nationals, so I want to win the State and go to the Nationals in San Francisco in 2009.”
Dr. Lewis seems undaunted by the prospect of even more surgery. He simply wants to get through it so he can run again, and he definitely plans to train again with Coach Steele.
“We’ve become pretty good friends. At one point, there near the end, I asked him, ‘Why would you want to do this for an old white guy?’”
He smiles his recognizable smile and his eyes sparkle. “And you know what he said? He said, ‘Just as one human being for another.’ ” Lewis leans forward, his smile broadening. “Isn’t that great? ‘One human being for another.’ That’s why he helps me!”
Coach Steele has mutual respect for Dr. Lewis. “I told my daughter about Bob as a life lesson,” he says. “I tried to share what it means to be totally dedicated to a cause. Dr. Lewis’ dedication, at the level he has it, is quite rare. Those individuals who have that drive, determination, are willing to pay the price, for the level of success they are seeking, they do the things winners do.”
“I have been very fortunate to be around some very successful athletes, and Dr. Lewis is definitely one of them.”
He continues. “I believe Dr. Lewis will run the 800 next year if it is humanly possible. We will really take our time, just have to do things the way the doctors want them done. It’s important to me that he continues to remain healthy. I believe he will run the 800, but we want him to do it safely.”
Coach Steele reflects on what he’s learned in working with Dr. Lewis. “I have had the privilege of working with a great many athletes, but rarely have I seen the kind of drive Dr. Lewis has. Dr. Lewis has given me greater motivation. I’ve always been highly motivated; seeing someone want to reach a goal that badly, inspired me. I have a great deal of respect for Dr. Lewis based on his dedication to his cause.
So why does Lewis still want to run?
He thinks for a moment. “That’s a great question. It’s my way of celebrating life. I have always run. I ran in high school, and in college. But the real joy came after my cancer surgery in 1995. That year, I did not run in the Peachtree Classic in Atlanta. I have always run it with friends and family, but that year I did not. The following year, when I went back to the Peachtree, it was a great celebration of life: celebration of another day, another year. These afflictions that I’ve had, the cancer, the heart, now my neck, I need something like this to look forward to.” He reflects for just a moment. “It’s a celebration of life.”
The other runners are back there -- way back there.
The 2 Roberts could not appear to be more different.
Monday, October 29
In the House
I bought new bedding in July and DH refinished DR floors in September. Promised MIL I would send her pics, but email is not working too well with pics greater than 1mb or so, so here are the long-awaited pics.
The walls are now an olive-y green on top (used to moss-y) and a dark coffee on the bottom (used to cafe-au-lait.) Notice the shine on that floor!
Saturday, October 27
PS.
One more note. I am so proud to report that today, as Little One and I were driving to Super Target to get Halloween crap for this Wednesday's party, she actually finished the sentence of the NPR folks. They are having their Fall Fund Drive. They gave their pitch and said, "...Just pick up the phone and dial, --"
Little One pipes up. "704.549.9000."
See? We have raised her right. :)
Little One pipes up. "704.549.9000."
See? We have raised her right. :)
Tuesday, October 23
Park is Open for Business
Well, it was a grand day and it has taken me a day or two to catch my breath.
Here are links to the articles in our local paper, first on Sunday:
Click here
And another on Monday:
And here
The day could not have been more beautiful. The neighbors arrived in droves. One good fellow counted in the beginning and told us there were 267, and they kept coming. All of City Council came, quite a feat, and the Mayor as well. Several of our donors accepted our invitations, and some of the other neighborhood leaders.
The place was covered up with kids! What a perfect day it was for them. I was pleased to notice kids playing in the park as I made my speech; did not want them to be bored through it.
The Kids' Committee dedicated the playground to "Fulton Heights Neighbors, past, present and future." They had a whole little dedication they read; I've got to get a copy of that.
The Mayor spoke and gathered the key players together to cut the ribbon. When she cut it, the crowd cheered!
We borrowed chairs from the neighborhood pool for Council and the donors. The chair backs do not all match, but the legs do. My gf, who is quite inventive, suggested we use our leftover neighborhood Tshirts to dress the chairs and mask their unmatching. It was a great idea. Many of the guests took a shirt home as a gift. If you look closely, you can see the trolley in our logo. The neighborhood was originally a trolley neighborhood. The median in front of our house covers up the old trolley tracks.
The Parks people had dug up some old granite when they graded the park. Ever resourceful AND THOUGHTFUL, they used it to build "Maggie's Bench." It's for me! Says so on the brass plaque.
Tucker and I have been visiting and sitting on it in the mornings. It's in the 'way back part of the woodland trail. It's quiet and beautiful. I love it and so appreciate their thoughtfulness.
Sigh. So. Thirty months and now it's done. Well, they have a few finishing touches to put to it, and of course if we ever get rain, there's a ton of landscaping. But my involvement for the most part is over. We do have aspirations for a custom piece of vertical art in the "donut" gardens but that can wait a bit.
Today I took the day off from Art Museum and from Curious Writer just to clean house and get some things done. We have been pretty disorganized around here the past few weeks. Little One has even had to buy her lunch 3 or 4 times. (shudder.) So, now on to a Normal Life.
...Er, what is that?
Here are links to the articles in our local paper, first on Sunday:
Click here
And another on Monday:
And here
The day could not have been more beautiful. The neighbors arrived in droves. One good fellow counted in the beginning and told us there were 267, and they kept coming. All of City Council came, quite a feat, and the Mayor as well. Several of our donors accepted our invitations, and some of the other neighborhood leaders.
The place was covered up with kids! What a perfect day it was for them. I was pleased to notice kids playing in the park as I made my speech; did not want them to be bored through it.
The Kids' Committee dedicated the playground to "Fulton Heights Neighbors, past, present and future." They had a whole little dedication they read; I've got to get a copy of that.
The Mayor spoke and gathered the key players together to cut the ribbon. When she cut it, the crowd cheered!
We borrowed chairs from the neighborhood pool for Council and the donors. The chair backs do not all match, but the legs do. My gf, who is quite inventive, suggested we use our leftover neighborhood Tshirts to dress the chairs and mask their unmatching. It was a great idea. Many of the guests took a shirt home as a gift. If you look closely, you can see the trolley in our logo. The neighborhood was originally a trolley neighborhood. The median in front of our house covers up the old trolley tracks.
The Parks people had dug up some old granite when they graded the park. Ever resourceful AND THOUGHTFUL, they used it to build "Maggie's Bench." It's for me! Says so on the brass plaque.Tucker and I have been visiting and sitting on it in the mornings. It's in the 'way back part of the woodland trail. It's quiet and beautiful. I love it and so appreciate their thoughtfulness.
Sigh. So. Thirty months and now it's done. Well, they have a few finishing touches to put to it, and of course if we ever get rain, there's a ton of landscaping. But my involvement for the most part is over. We do have aspirations for a custom piece of vertical art in the "donut" gardens but that can wait a bit.
Today I took the day off from Art Museum and from Curious Writer just to clean house and get some things done. We have been pretty disorganized around here the past few weeks. Little One has even had to buy her lunch 3 or 4 times. (shudder.) So, now on to a Normal Life.
...Er, what is that?
Friday, October 19
Community Action
It is ready enough for tomorrow.
This is the entryway arbor. They will remove the supports in the morning, and we will put the giant ribbon across it.
The arbor in the back will eventually have a back on it with an enclosed bulletin board. The path to the left leads to the playground. The path to the right leads to the meditation gardens.
Never build a park in a drought. It will look a little like a moonscape....It will be beautiful. Eventually.
They are placing the benches tomorrow morning.
Kids are already enjoying the park. Grandmas, too.
Kids of all ages, that is. These guys are in high school, believe it or not, but are the sweetest kids you ever saw. They love the park and even told me, "thank you."What more could you ask for?
Sunday, October 14
Eat Like Kings
Of course all my grandchildren are totally brilliant. They got it from their parents, who in turn got it from, well, I have no clue where they got it from, but suffice it to say, all my grandchildren are brilliant.
Today I received the best email. It says,
I found the far side in the book that used to be our dad's. i hope you like it.love,{eldest son of DS2}.
...And here it is.
Thank you so much, dear grandson. You made my day!!
Sunday, October 7
Eat like Kings
While looking for the Far Side cartoon today's entry references, I found this quote:
"My very favorite Far Side cartoon depicts two spiders at either
end of a spider web they built across the bottom of a playground slide. One
spider says to the other 'If we pull this off, we'll eat like kings!' It still
makes me laugh out loud."
end of a spider web they built across the bottom of a playground slide. One
spider says to the other 'If we pull this off, we'll eat like kings!' It still
makes me laugh out loud."
What the person did not mention was the fat little kid cresting the slide at the moment.
I have to describe it here because Far Side cartoon archives are no longer available online; many speculate it's because they aren't syndicated anymore and they prefer that you pay for the page-a-day calendars and such.
That cartoon came to mind today, however, when I took our toothless shredder to the garbage. When I opened the lid, there in all its glory:
And another shot: 
Isn't this brilliant? She had to have worked all night! Fortunately she left a small opening in the corner just big enough for me to get my refuse into the container without disturbing her trap.
She is ready to eat like a king!
While reflecting on the futility of her work, it came to mind how often I have made just the same mistake. The only universe I have seen at times is the one readily visible to my eye. I am entirely unaware that outside my range of vision is a whole world of which I am unaware. So I develop a detailed plan, work hard to implement it, and wait patiently, not quite understanding why I am not "eating like a king."
Now that I think of it, I believe I'll go scoop her out so she won't starve to death.
Wednesday, October 3
Nocturnal Journeys
My mother often talked about her nocturnal journeys. As a child, I never fully realized what she meant by it. She sometimes talked about sleeping on a couch due to her insomnia and I imagine perhaps I envisioned her waking up and then promptly going back to sleep on the sofa.
Sigh. It's 2:27 am. After a half hour of lying awake in the bed, I got up at 2. I find that if I just lie there, awake, I am stiff and sore in the morning. It's easier if I get up and occupy myself until I can once again sleep. So. I drink a cup of "Calm" tea by Tazo. I might play Pyramids on the computer; the slowly drifting cards seem to soothe me. More challenging games like Spades or Scrabble make my mind sharp and more awake. I try to avoid them at night. I write. Or read. Pet the cat. Cats are great insomnia partners.
One night last weekI actually tried to sleep in every bed in the house. My travels looked something like this. My bed. Computer. Upstairs guest bed / book. Living room / journal. Computer / blog. Little One's bed, tried to cuddle. Couldn't get half the bed. Downstairs guest bed. Back to my bed. Just as I was drifting off, Little One called for me in the night. Back to Little One's bed.
Now that she is adolescent, she uses things like body spray and fruity hair products. I finally fell asleep breathing in the apple scent of her hair. It was sort of lovely.
Next morning, I was tired and faced four beds to make.
So, after being up a little more than an hour, I am still wide-awake but longing for sleep. I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow. Mother is long gone but I finally understand what she meant by nocturnal journeys. What an inheritance.
Sigh. It's 2:27 am. After a half hour of lying awake in the bed, I got up at 2. I find that if I just lie there, awake, I am stiff and sore in the morning. It's easier if I get up and occupy myself until I can once again sleep. So. I drink a cup of "Calm" tea by Tazo. I might play Pyramids on the computer; the slowly drifting cards seem to soothe me. More challenging games like Spades or Scrabble make my mind sharp and more awake. I try to avoid them at night. I write. Or read. Pet the cat. Cats are great insomnia partners.
One night last weekI actually tried to sleep in every bed in the house. My travels looked something like this. My bed. Computer. Upstairs guest bed / book. Living room / journal. Computer / blog. Little One's bed, tried to cuddle. Couldn't get half the bed. Downstairs guest bed. Back to my bed. Just as I was drifting off, Little One called for me in the night. Back to Little One's bed.
Now that she is adolescent, she uses things like body spray and fruity hair products. I finally fell asleep breathing in the apple scent of her hair. It was sort of lovely.
Next morning, I was tired and faced four beds to make.
So, after being up a little more than an hour, I am still wide-awake but longing for sleep. I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow. Mother is long gone but I finally understand what she meant by nocturnal journeys. What an inheritance.
Saturday, September 29
New Family Member
DH called this morning and asked me to look in a certain place on Craig's List. There was a posting for a Maine Coon Cat only 20 miles away, for the unbelievable price of $45.
Jody's 2nd cousin Pauline always had a cat, and it was always named Spencer. Spencer died, she got a new one. Spencer again. Always Spencer. They were all named for Spencer Tracy.
She was a rescue. A breeder had been running the equivalent of a puppy farm (kitty farm?) in March and was raided for having too many cats -- fifty plus. The lady I met today is a registered cat rescue. She accepts cats, nurses them to health, takes them to the vet, and finds them good homes. Back in March our little treasure was dehydrated, malnourished, and badly matted.
It has been a few months since Francie's demise and DH thought perhaps I was ready for a new cat.
LO and I went to see her at 2pm. The house was a McMansion, beautiful really, on several acres, but the lady and her husband have one cat; they find homes for the rescues.
The husband called her DC, or Dumpster Cat. They gave us all the vet records, indicating about $200 they spent on her shots, spaying her, and recovering her health.
She is such a little lady. She has meowed 3 or 4 times but mostly cuddles us. I remarked to DH we are going to have a bald cat by Monday -- we pet her so much! You can google Maine coon cat to learn more about them.
Tucker and Daniel are curious but seem to be open to a new sister.
Jody's 2nd cousin Pauline always had a cat, and it was always named Spencer. Spencer died, she got a new one. Spencer again. Always Spencer. They were all named for Spencer Tracy. Pauline was such a delight. Lifelong student. Loved to learn. Open to so many adventures. And, a lifelong Democrat. She died last year on River Road heading to one of her college classes. She was 88.
In Pauline's honor, we are naming our new cat, Spencer.
Wednesday, September 26
Don't Nobody Want to Hear That
Tennis practice is over. Little One and I are walking across the parking lot to the car. Someone is yelling from the gym to someone else. "Don't nobody want to hear your mouth!"
Little One mumbles something.
"What was that, Baby?"
"I said, 'Don't nobody want to hear you say, 'Don't nobody.'" She is smiling.
"Or, 'Ain't nobody,'" I add.
"Don't nobody say, 'Ain't nobody,' Nana. You need to catch up on your ghetto talk."
Little One mumbles something.
"What was that, Baby?"
"I said, 'Don't nobody want to hear you say, 'Don't nobody.'" She is smiling.
"Or, 'Ain't nobody,'" I add.
"Don't nobody say, 'Ain't nobody,' Nana. You need to catch up on your ghetto talk."
Wednesday, September 19
I Wish I Could Draw
I wish I could draw. I wish I could draw my morning walks on the Greenway with Little White Dog.
I would draw in pen-and-ink my view of LWD as we walk: the leash extending down to her at a 55 degree angle. Her little legs, one touching the path, one mid-air as she merrily skips down the way. She is so happy! Smells abound. From my vantage she is all butt and legs, and the tail is her banner, upright and slightly blowing in the breeze.
I wish I could watercolor. I would capture the macro view of the scenery alongside the path. At a distance it appears to be all grasses and brambles, branches and volunteer brush. The colors are already golden and bronze from the drought.
The micro view would be inset in little cutaways at the bottom of the page. It would show the breathtaking beauty of the goldenrod, the purple statice, the wild coreopsis.
I wish I could draw. In pencil I would sketch the strong and beautiful covered bridge that spans the creek. The timbers are already worn from our traffic over it: feet, bicycles, strollers, skateboards. At first, only a few years ago, the beams were yellow wood. Now their patina is a deep brown. They are so broad and thick that my feet thud on them like a voice with deep timber, like the voice of a large older man. The side rails and overhanging roof provide the perfect frame for a delicate spider web, 16" in diameter, woven in the thick of night and sparkling in the morning sun.
I wish I could draw. Again in pencil, I would capture the brown rabbit who bounds across the path, certain that our little dog means certain doom to him. His heart is pounding as he pauses, just 9 feet away from the path, in his little clearing. He is still as death and thinks surely I can't see him. Little White Dog is oblivious. All the wild has been bred out of her so that she only has tiny threads of instinct remaining in her, and even that confuses her. But Rabbit does not know this. He hides, still but for his twitching ears and nose.
I wish I could capture for you the sound on the Greenway. It is a hush so loud that it is a sound in itself. It is the sound of sun, and of things growing, and of the reticent pleasure of so many who have walked this way before me, and those who will come behind. I am alone and I feel alone and being alone is its own glory, yet it is a public commonway and in just a moment someone will be in the same spot feeling the same quiet ecstasy, or missing it entirely.
I wish I could draw. I would draw for you the wet and muddy white dog seated beside me in the car. Her back is white, silky, and well-groomed. Her usually-white legs, belly, tail, her snout and the ends of her ears are brown, curling from the moisture, and separating into tendrils. She looks at me plaintively when I tell her that one of us smells like a wet dog: is it me?
We arrive home, to the ordinariness of it all. To routine and familiarity. But no matter how many times we walk the Greenway, it is new all over again. Things have grown or died away, deer or rabbit startle and thrill us, the sun slants in just a slightly different way. The creek level is down, or up, and blooms have faded or started anew.
Sigh.
I wish I could draw.
I would draw in pen-and-ink my view of LWD as we walk: the leash extending down to her at a 55 degree angle. Her little legs, one touching the path, one mid-air as she merrily skips down the way. She is so happy! Smells abound. From my vantage she is all butt and legs, and the tail is her banner, upright and slightly blowing in the breeze.
I wish I could watercolor. I would capture the macro view of the scenery alongside the path. At a distance it appears to be all grasses and brambles, branches and volunteer brush. The colors are already golden and bronze from the drought.
The micro view would be inset in little cutaways at the bottom of the page. It would show the breathtaking beauty of the goldenrod, the purple statice, the wild coreopsis.
I wish I could draw. In pencil I would sketch the strong and beautiful covered bridge that spans the creek. The timbers are already worn from our traffic over it: feet, bicycles, strollers, skateboards. At first, only a few years ago, the beams were yellow wood. Now their patina is a deep brown. They are so broad and thick that my feet thud on them like a voice with deep timber, like the voice of a large older man. The side rails and overhanging roof provide the perfect frame for a delicate spider web, 16" in diameter, woven in the thick of night and sparkling in the morning sun.
I wish I could draw. Again in pencil, I would capture the brown rabbit who bounds across the path, certain that our little dog means certain doom to him. His heart is pounding as he pauses, just 9 feet away from the path, in his little clearing. He is still as death and thinks surely I can't see him. Little White Dog is oblivious. All the wild has been bred out of her so that she only has tiny threads of instinct remaining in her, and even that confuses her. But Rabbit does not know this. He hides, still but for his twitching ears and nose.
I wish I could capture for you the sound on the Greenway. It is a hush so loud that it is a sound in itself. It is the sound of sun, and of things growing, and of the reticent pleasure of so many who have walked this way before me, and those who will come behind. I am alone and I feel alone and being alone is its own glory, yet it is a public commonway and in just a moment someone will be in the same spot feeling the same quiet ecstasy, or missing it entirely.
I wish I could draw. I would draw for you the wet and muddy white dog seated beside me in the car. Her back is white, silky, and well-groomed. Her usually-white legs, belly, tail, her snout and the ends of her ears are brown, curling from the moisture, and separating into tendrils. She looks at me plaintively when I tell her that one of us smells like a wet dog: is it me?
We arrive home, to the ordinariness of it all. To routine and familiarity. But no matter how many times we walk the Greenway, it is new all over again. Things have grown or died away, deer or rabbit startle and thrill us, the sun slants in just a slightly different way. The creek level is down, or up, and blooms have faded or started anew.
Sigh.
I wish I could draw.
Sunday, September 9
Quiet Sunday Morning
It's a quiet Sunday morning and as I write, all the house is asleep. Little One and her BFF are still sleeping in her room. DH, who just got home a little over an hour ago, is sleeping upstairs with earplugs firmly in. Little Dog went outside with me earlier but opted for DH's room upstairs and is snuggled in on the rug beside his bed. Orange cat is curled up on the girls' bed.
Outside it's cool if a little humid and I have the doors open just for a little fresh air. The birds are beginning to stir but the bird feeder is still vacant for today. There are no cars on our street and I feel a little like I'm the only one up.
Have not even checked the news yet; it's sort of nice to just enjoy my peace and quiet for a while.
Outside it's cool if a little humid and I have the doors open just for a little fresh air. The birds are beginning to stir but the bird feeder is still vacant for today. There are no cars on our street and I feel a little like I'm the only one up.
Have not even checked the news yet; it's sort of nice to just enjoy my peace and quiet for a while.
Thursday, September 6
Number 200
You might think for a 200th anniversary of blogdom, I'd have some auspicious posting, but no, just the same-old, same-old.
DH and I put in our fall garden yesterday. It was sort of a lovely day, with just 2 to 5 hours of horrendous heat, as opposed to a full 24. The birds were singing and the pets were alternately chasing other, and then lying in the shade, enjoying watching us, watching them.
We pulled up the spent plants from summer, keeping the prolific pepper plants and a couple of tomato plants. I had gotten the yellow pear tomato plant on a whim: I have always called the tiny tomatoes "light bulb tomatoes" and thought it would be fun to grow them. Well, it has produced hundreds of light bulbs over the past couple of months and is coming on strong again.
We have carefully maintained a wholly organic garden this year, with amazing results. I am so pleased that we haven't poisoned our own food!
We also cleared a place for composting. We have had several false starts on composting in the past and are attempting to "really" do it this time. Between all the recycling we do (I recently went to the water department and picked up recycling bin #3) and composting, we should really have a low amount of garbage every week, yea for the landfill.
While our little garden used to measure 4'x8', we have cleared this spot and that spot so that now it runs almonst the length of our long driveway.
After adding compost and other organic niceties to the soil, and "double-digging" it, we planted the following:
Altogether it was a lovely day. DH lost his favorite book on organic gardening so we found it on Amazon and ordered it. It is out of print now, so we ordered a used book at about $6, can't really remember. To our surprise, the vendor sent us an email saying he had refunded the entire price, including shipping, because he had promoted it as "excellent" condition, and when he got ready to ship it, the covers were taped on; he had not realized it earlier. What a nice surprise for us. When we received it, the tape was hardly noticeable, and really I believe someone put tape on the binding just to keep the book sturdy for outdoor reading.
Anyway, the book has inspired DH once again to garden organically (thank goodness) and we are all set. He has already been out fine-tuning the garden this morning and has just come in to report the peas are already throwing their little "bat-ropes" up to the trellis. (We planted them last week, the others yesterday.)
DH and I put in our fall garden yesterday. It was sort of a lovely day, with just 2 to 5 hours of horrendous heat, as opposed to a full 24. The birds were singing and the pets were alternately chasing other, and then lying in the shade, enjoying watching us, watching them.
We pulled up the spent plants from summer, keeping the prolific pepper plants and a couple of tomato plants. I had gotten the yellow pear tomato plant on a whim: I have always called the tiny tomatoes "light bulb tomatoes" and thought it would be fun to grow them. Well, it has produced hundreds of light bulbs over the past couple of months and is coming on strong again.
We have carefully maintained a wholly organic garden this year, with amazing results. I am so pleased that we haven't poisoned our own food!
We also cleared a place for composting. We have had several false starts on composting in the past and are attempting to "really" do it this time. Between all the recycling we do (I recently went to the water department and picked up recycling bin #3) and composting, we should really have a low amount of garbage every week, yea for the landfill.
While our little garden used to measure 4'x8', we have cleared this spot and that spot so that now it runs almonst the length of our long driveway.
After adding compost and other organic niceties to the soil, and "double-digging" it, we planted the following:
- broccoli
- spinach
- sugar snap peas
- mesclun
- kale
- cabbage
- Swiss chard (do they grow it in Switzerland?)
- Bibb lettuce
- turnips
Altogether it was a lovely day. DH lost his favorite book on organic gardening so we found it on Amazon and ordered it. It is out of print now, so we ordered a used book at about $6, can't really remember. To our surprise, the vendor sent us an email saying he had refunded the entire price, including shipping, because he had promoted it as "excellent" condition, and when he got ready to ship it, the covers were taped on; he had not realized it earlier. What a nice surprise for us. When we received it, the tape was hardly noticeable, and really I believe someone put tape on the binding just to keep the book sturdy for outdoor reading.
Anyway, the book has inspired DH once again to garden organically (thank goodness) and we are all set. He has already been out fine-tuning the garden this morning and has just come in to report the peas are already throwing their little "bat-ropes" up to the trellis. (We planted them last week, the others yesterday.)
Friday, August 24
New Project
Those of you who know us, and who else would be reading this boring blog, know that we take a sort of perverse pride in our making silk purses from sow's ears. Like the kitchen sink we found in the woods 10 years prior to going and asking if we could have it for our kitchen. Like the vintage stove we found on Craig's List and got for a fraction of market value. The island DH made by recycling our old cabinets from 1933. And on, and on.
Well today we have a new treasure. It was a grate used to filter out the chunks of coal where only dust is supposed to go, at DH's place of employment. I guess they got new ones and were going to throw it out. DH asked for it and paid $4.78 for it. It's solid cast steel, 38 inches across. Here is a before picture.
We did not want the support structure to be below the rack, so DH built it above. Also, due to the placement of the studs, he had to put the biggest bolts in the horizontal beam behind the top edge of the wall.
Here is an "after" picture. I am pondering placement for the hanging pots & pans. Want some for convenience, but not too cluttered. It's a fine line.
ps. Among our found treasures I failed to mention the cutting board table you see here on the right. The cutting board was a workbench top, black from use, discarded at his work. He sanded it and built a table underneath it. Recently he added a little extension on the back edge to hold my spices.
Well today we have a new treasure. It was a grate used to filter out the chunks of coal where only dust is supposed to go, at DH's place of employment. I guess they got new ones and were going to throw it out. DH asked for it and paid $4.78 for it. It's solid cast steel, 38 inches across. Here is a before picture.
We did not want the support structure to be below the rack, so DH built it above. Also, due to the placement of the studs, he had to put the biggest bolts in the horizontal beam behind the top edge of the wall.
Here is an "after" picture. I am pondering placement for the hanging pots & pans. Want some for convenience, but not too cluttered. It's a fine line.
ps. Among our found treasures I failed to mention the cutting board table you see here on the right. The cutting board was a workbench top, black from use, discarded at his work. He sanded it and built a table underneath it. Recently he added a little extension on the back edge to hold my spices.
Monday, August 20
Sweet Dad
A friend sent me a link to this video. Very sweet -- please notice the change in his face in the last 5 seconds.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uISuvTiTYJA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uISuvTiTYJA
Wednesday, August 15
Sites of note
"While I was web-surfing at 4:30 this morning," she casually started, "I ran into something pretty cool: a goldfish bowl with an office in it." Don't believe her? Here is the pic:
It's only $25 at www.fredflare.com. How did I find it? Well, I was on a writers' site looking at different magazines participating in a writers' conference, when I saw the editor of O magazine was going to be there. O is "o"wned by the Hearst Corporation, who doesn't usually use free lancers, although there are a few of their smaller magazines who do. I had had the notion that O did not. So I clicked over to O magazine's website to look for writers' guidelines. Did not see them, but did see the cutest little stapler for only $6 that does not use staples. One of Oprah's Favorites. So of course I clicked on the hyperlink, which took me to fredflare.com, where I found this little gem. Cute, huh.
On a similar safari, I ran into the website for a gal who is co-writing Chicken Soup for the Twenty-Something Soul. They are looking for writers for short stories of the Chicken Soup genre. Upon entering her website, the traveler is met with her self-description: Life Coach. Author. Speaker. Then the traveler notices her picture on the right: She is twentysomething! How the, ahem, heck, can she be a life coach? She has barely tasted life! She's a baby! Here is the link: http://www.christinehassler.com/books.php
What would I want a life coach to look like, if I were pitiful enough to hire one? Maybe like Jane on the Beverly Hillbillies? Sort of taciturn and dry? Naw, wrong image. Too skinny, not enough fun in her demeanor. How about, um... Cameron Diaz? mmm, no, too perfect. Hey! Got it! Ina Garten! "Who the heck is Ina Garten?" you ask. She's The Barefoot Contessa on the Food Channel. She's breezy, fun, slightly overweight, attractive without being uber, good humor, confident but not too, and just generally fun. She's always fixing some sort of food for all her friends. Yep, if I were in a situation to hire a life coach, that's what she'd need to be like, certainly NOT some young blonde thing. But hey, to each his own.
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