Say "Cheese"

I was looking through my oldest photo album yesterday, the one my mom actually started for me when I was just a wee lass.  (Okay, I'm not really Irish.)  Anyway, there, tucked in the back, were all the 8X10 class photos from kindergarten through sixth grade.  I've glanced through these occasionally over the years, amazed at how many kids' names I still remember, and chuckling over the GLASSES we wore. 

Anyway, my favorite is the kindergarten class picture.  For some ill-conceived reason, someone decided the picture should be taken outdoors on the playground.  Bright sunlight. And anyone who's ever taken a photograph on any camera knows that the photographer stands with his back to the sun, leaving the subjects to directly face the sun and try to smile while squinting and frying their retinas.  Add a slight breeze to ruffle the hair a bit, and you've got a recipe for photographic failure. 

Now, here's my favorite part;  when the photographer says "Say cheese", as he clearly did right before this picture was snapped, he's SUPPOSED to capture the "ee" part of the word, not the "CH" part of the word.
Guess nobody told him that.  So, here is the photo.  (You can click on it and it should come up in a separate window where you can really appreciate it.) 

And by the way, I count no less than nine missing teeth among us.

Ready?

Here we go....

Say CHeese!!!

(Okay, that's me top left.) 

- - - 

EAT PRAY LOVE YADDA YADDA YADDA

We just watched the movie "Eat Pray Love" last night (from the book by the same name).  I won't say I couldn't relate to the soul-searching, self-seeking main character Liz (the author of the original book), but I will say I haven't related to her for about 35 years.

Back in my early womanhood, if I had seen this movie, or read this book, I would have packed my bags for Italy and then booked a meditation room in an Ashram in Bali.  Well not really, because I didn't have any money.  But I would have been trying to figure out a way to do it.  Back then I was constantly trying to figure myself out.   Delving into various forms of philosophical bull poop to find meaning in life.  I had a need to figure out my place in the world.  Or something like that.  I guess I just wanted to know what to believe.  Who was right?  Whose ideas were the real deal?  What author, philosopher, guru, thinker, seeker or wise man should I believe.  Which one had the real answers?

Yuh.  Like that was the way to go.

Anyway, it was just kind of interesting to sit there watching this movie, realizing that it could have been me 35 years ago, and yet feeling none of the angst any more.  I can remember feeling it, but I'm amused by it now.

I do want to clear one thing up.  There is a moment in the movie when Liz has this epiphany about God.  In the big aha moment, she says, "I realize now that God lives within me, as me."  She repeats it for effect.  It sounds so profound, but it's not. Because it's not right.  It's not accurate.

God does live within me.  But not as me.  He lives within me as the Holy Spirit, which is entirely Him, not me.
If God lived within me as me, it would mean that I'm my own God.  That's absurd.
No, He lives within me as the Holy Spirit.  And the Holy Spirit doesn't conform to me, I conform to Him.  We become One, not because God yields to my personality, but because I willingly yield to Him.

I just wanted to straighten that out.  It was on my mind all day today since I saw the movie.

I gotta give credit to my husband, by the way,  who watched the whole estrogen-laden story with me. I never once noticed a gag response, although I'm sure they were there.  Even I had them.

.

A Little Thanksgiving Story

 In honor of Thanksgiving, here is a little story I wrote a few years back.  
Have a Blessed Day.
________________

There once was a woman who just loved the Lord. In fact, she loved Him so much she was bursting with the desire to do something for Him. So she exclaimed, "Oh Lord, here I am! Use me! Just tell me what it is you want me to do. I'm ready. I'll do whatever you want, no matter how big, no matter how hard! Just tell me what it is. I'll be listening, Lord. In the meantime, I'll just go about my business. But rest assured, I'll be listening for your great command."

So the woman went to the supermarket to do her grocery shopping. As she circled the lot for a parking space, she spied a good spot right near the entrance. But just as she got near it, she noticed that someone else in another car was also approaching the same space. "Oh well", she thought, "they might need it more than I do. I'll let them have this one. I'll find another." And she waved them into the space and found another one, further away. As she walked toward the store, she noticed an elderly woman having trouble getting her groceries into her car from the little motorized scooter she was driving. So the woman went to her and helped her get the groceries in the car, then helped her from the scooter into the driver's seat. "Don't worry," she said, "I'll see that this scooter gets back to the store. You have a nice day now."

At the entrance to the store, some people were collecting money for disabled veterans, so the woman dug in her purse and pulled out a five dollar bill, which she tucked into the collection jar. She also noticed a homeless man sitting on the ground outside the store. She said a little prayer for him and went on inside.

The woman did all her grocery shopping, then stopped by the deli counter and ordered a sandwich. She thanked the deli man for making such a nice sandwich, and then took her cart to the checkout. As she stood in line, she couldn't help but notice that the young mother checking out in front of her didn't have enough money to pay the cashier. She was short two dollars. So the woman quietly handed her two dollar bills and gave her a wink. The young mother thanked her from the bottom of her heart, and her baby even smiled and gurgled for her.

As the woman left the store with her cart, she turned and walked to the homeless man sitting on the ground. Without a word, she reached into one of her bags, pulled out the deli sandwich, and handed it to him. "God bless you, Sir", she said.

When she got home, she sat wearily in her chair and once again spoke to God. "Well Lord, I'm a little disappointed. You never told me what it is I can do for you today. Oh well, maybe tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'll just go about my business.."

The Great Pool Adventure

So here we are, back in Florida after a wonderful trip up North.  Glad to be back, but sad to leave my Dad and family once again. More about Dad later....meanwhile....

Now this is big news....we've actually gone in the pool TWICE this week.  I know, huh?
  
Wait, what do you mean, 'so what'?  This is huge for us.  We live literally 50 paces from the pool, and I cannot remember the last time we went  for a dip.  And I do mean I can't remember what year it was.  But this was really great.  I even swam a lap.  (I'm never sure if a 'lap' is all the way to the end and back again, or just one way.  If it's just one way, then I did two laps.)  We were inspired to go in the pool because there are so few people around our condo complex now that it's off-season.  Usually the pool is teeming with other people, often including their offspring and grandchildren.  This is a turn-off to us.  We have an aversion to water wings and pool noodles.  But summertime is different.  Our little community shrinks to a handful of year-round residents and the place is all ours.  Not that this has made much difference in our pool activity, or lack thereof, in the past few years.  We're just not pool people.  We are also not beach people.  In fact, you should have seen us searching for bathing suits and beach towels once we decided to take the plunge (so to speak).  "Hey Honey, would you look in my bottom drawer and see if I have a pair of swim trunks in there?"  Now, you may ask why my husband had to ask me to look in his bottom drawer. Well, I don't think I'm betraying a confidence if I tell you that by his own admission, he doesn't bend very well anymore. Bottom drawers are largely relegated to stuff he doesn't really use much.  This would of course include swim trunks. In fact, the last time he wore them, he could probably still bend.  Anyway....the ones he remembered from around 2001 were not there.  But we found a reasonable facsimile. 

I, on the other hand, knew exactly where my two bathing suits (circa 1994) were stored.  I found them toot sweet and after trying one of them on, quickly discovered that in 1994 I must have been considerably braver about revealing my body.  And my body must have been considerably more worthy of revealing.  (Duh!  Do the math.) So the skimpier of the two suits went directly into the Goodwill bag.  (Don't worry.  It's still like new.)  The other one is also a two-piece but the bottom half is more like a pair of shorts than a fabric swatch, so this was acceptable.  Husband found his one-and-only beach towel, which is a Budweiser promotional item we got from a restaurant where we used to work, and features a full size rendering of a voluptuous female in a bikini down the full length of the towel.   With the word 'Budweiser' emblazened across the top.  I dug around the linen closet and found an  over-sized bath towel that would suffice. It is pink. 

So now we step out into the 90 degree heat, ready to approach the pool area.  We didn't require any special equipment.  I brought my watch so we could keep track of the time.  That's about it. We spread our towels on a couple of lounge chairs, noting how grateful we were  no one was there to get a gander at the Budweiser beauty, and stepped into the pool, anticipating that bracing sensation of cool relief.

Bath water, that's what it was like.  It was hard to say which was warmer, the air or the water.  But no matter, We were IN THE POOL!  Hey, look at us!  We're IN THE POOL.  Splash splash, swim swim, bobbing up and down now.  Okay, that's enough. 

Now, to the lounge chairs!  Hey, look at us, we're SUNBATHING!  Vitamin D shines down on us and courses through our veins!  This is GREAT!

Flash forward ten minutes.  "Hey Honey, how long have we been out here?"

So we got wet, got our ten minutes of unadulterated Vitamin D, and decided that was enough.
But it was SO MUCH FUN we did it again two days later.  In fact, Husband went out and bought a new pair of swim trunks so we can do this ALL THE TIME.  Yea!
At this rate, I might even have a tan by September.

Enough

Enough is enough. 
I'm not saying that as some kind of I've-had-it declaration with an exclamation point at the end.   I mean it as a simple statement: "When we have enough it is enough."

At what point in our history did we start getting the idea that it's not enough to  have enough?  That we must have more?  I can remember reading some kind of self-help book or article back in the 80's and it advised emphatically "never be content".  Really?  I thought that's what we all wanted to ultimately achieve - peace and contentment.  But no.  Apparently it became the new sin of the 'me' generation to be content.  You must climb higher, achieve more, accumulate more wealth, power, and stuff.   I was still young and impressionable, and naively presumed that people who wrote books and conducted seminars must know what they're talking about, so I believed it.  And it made me unhappy.  Because I didn't have big goals and ambitions that I could write down and tape to my bathroom mirror and check off one by one.  Not the kind they were talking about anyway.

Now years later I find out that this way of thinking ultimately made most everybody unhappy.  Because they did buy into it.  After all, when you want more, you will always want more and you will never have enough, and you will never have any peace.  And I guess that was the problem.  At some point someone decided that 'peace' is not a good enough goal.  It became the norm to believe that "the one who dies with the most toys wins".

The term  "American Dream" was coined in the 1930's when people's hopes were for a better life.  It was based on the second sentence of the Declaration of Independence; the inalienable right of everyone to  "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness".   It came to represent the dream of owning your own home (possibly with a white picket fence) and the sense of safety and security that accompanied it.

When did that simple dream become the grossly bloated version that has dominated recent history?  When did we start buying into the propaganda that we must trade up, move up, have a bigger home, and much MUCH bigger bank accounts?  People thought those things would bring them happiness.  But it's just the opposite.  Unhappiness and unrest rule the day.  The American Dream run amuck is evidenced by the sorry state we find  ourselves in right now. 

Enough should be enough. 

But as usual, God works in mysterious ways.  I won't go so far as to say that foreclosures and bankruptcies are blessings. That would be an insult to people in pain.  But running parallel to those sad tales are stories of families spending more time together around the dining room table.  People are re-evaluating what's truly important.  An up-tick in volunteerism is emerging. A lot of people are beginning to understand the folly of 'more is better'. Folks are scaling back and trimming away the unnecessary clutter we've stupidly striven for to reveal the lean essence of what is good and lovely.

I pray for a 'renewing of our minds' and a turning back from the unhealthy teachings of the Book of More.  A healthy life begins with our minds - our belief system.  I pray we may all return to Truth.  I pray we may all realize that 'abundance' has little to do with money and belongings, and everything to do with our state of mind.
Joy, peace, love and faith.

Karaoke Assassin

Well it was bound to happen.  According to a New York Times article today, karaoke singers in the Philippines are being murdered in frightening numbers.  And the majority of them are being bumped off after singing "My Way".  I can't say that I'm surprised.  And I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP (to borrow a phrase from Dave Barry).You can click the link above (New York Times) and check for yourself.  Apparently Filipinos take their karaoke pretty seriously and will not tolerate sub-quality performances.  If your voice is no more than a croak, well you just might croak.  Experts studying the phenomenon are not sure why "My Way" sung badly evokes the most homicidal tendencies, but they speculate the song is just so darn familiar, you  darn well better do a good job of it.  (My own theory runs more to "OH NO!  NOT 'MY WAY' AGAIN!  PLEASE, SOMEBODY STOP HIM!!")

According to the article, "Karaoke-related killings are not limited to the Philippines. In the past two years alone, a Malaysian man was fatally stabbed for hogging the microphone at a bar and a Thai man killed eight of his neighbors in a rage after they sang John Denver’s "Take Me Home Country Roads".  Karaoke-related assaults have also occurred in the United States, including at a Seattle bar where a woman punched a man for singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” after criticizing his version."

Mostly the violence is limited to the occasional brawl when someone gets too many turns at the mike, but I can't say I blame them when tempers boil over into murder and mayhem after listening to several hours of drunken karaoke divas and dudes.    In fact, I'm thinking that there may be a career opportunity as a Karaoke Specialist gun for hire.  I might apply for the job myself. 

A Moving Moment

We performed a matinee show yesterday for a mostly older crowd at our favorite dinner theater.  We ended the show with our military tribute to the Armed Forces.  We sing the anthem of each branch of the service and ask anyone who has served in the military to stand when they hear their anthem.  We started with the Air Force, then the Marines, the Coast Guard, Merchant Marines, Navy, and finally the Army.  With each anthem men and women stood proudly around the room.   When we got to the Army, that's when the most people stood. We began to sing "Over hill, over dale, we have hit the dusty trail",  and people all over the room quickly got to their feet.  Then I noticed the elderly man at the table right in front of us.  He struggled to get out of his chair.  He grasped the table, and tried to rise, his wobbly legs failing him.  Then two strangers from the next table gripped his arms and helped him stand up, which he was barely able to do.  Tears came to my eyes and I almost couldn't keep singing. This ordinary-looking man who had been smiling and laughing  through our show, was suddenly a proud soldier who had served his country and would not let anything, including his own body,  keep him from standing up for the Army.  Then we sang "God Bless America". 
And he did it again.

Thank you, Sir, whoever you are.  We salute you.

Another One for "Are You Kidding Me?"

Okay, so I was reading an article about alcohol in the Health & Fitness supplement of the newspaper.  Two pages of discussion about the benefits versus the dangers of alcohol consumptiion.   So for two pages it goes back and forth (and back and forth several more times) between asserting that alcohol is really good for you, and conversely that it could also be deadly.  One study says moderate drinking is good.  Another study says that even one glass of wine a day could contribute to developing breast cancer.  But on the other hand, it thins blood and decreases platelet aggregation which apparently is good.  But on the other hand, "alcohol is pure calories and offers no nutrition. Still studies show that women who consume alcohol weigh less."  

Are you confused yet?  I'm telling you, I started to laugh.  I'm not sure why anyone bothered to write this article or publish it.  The ten minutes it took me to read it I will never get back.  And I still don't know if it's better to drink or not drink.  But here's the best part. The conclusion was priceless.  Are you ready? Here it is:
"People who consume moderate amounts of alcohol have a LOWER RISK OF DYING  than people who don't drink at all."

WOW!  Gimme that Jack Daniels!!