Puppy Love

*sings* And they call it pupppppy love.... Yep. It's an oldie, but a goodie. On my way to work this morning, that song came on. And in the wee morning hours, it made my mind wander back to the "good old days" Do you remember your first puppy love? I can recall two.

My family moved into a new house when I was 6. And the kids next door were Michael and Susie. Michael was my first puppy love. He had blonde hair. Funny, I don't remember much else about him, or what we did besides riding bicycles. Susie was younger, played dolls with my sister, I think. One late summer day, in the back yard, while hiding behind the pine tree, he kissed me. (Although I'm sure at 6 it wasn't quite the romantic kind they have in the movies!) But it sticks in my memory.

My second puppy love was a boy in my fourth grade class. His name was John F. and I passed his house every day when I was walking to school. Some days, I was lucky enough to time it just right, and we would walk the last couple of blocks together. But at 9 years old, I was shy, self conscious, and much taller than him!! lol So I never, ever told him. That one lasted quite a long time ... all through fourth and into fifth grade! (That's when I discovered Bobby Sherman and Donny Osmond!! oh my! hahaha)

Fast forward to my 20th high school reunion. As is typical, there's a little bit (ok, a lot!!) of drinking going on. (and a few other things... we were kids of the 70s ya know!) And there he was ..... John F. ..... outside ..... on the steps of the hotel, having a smoke. Alcohol being the great equalizer that it is ... I went up and talked to him. And we talked. And I confessed my crush from those days at Bracher Elementary. It was amusing, and we both laughed, but then he asked me in all seriousness "Why didn't you ever say anything?" Good question.

Why don't we say anything? What makes us so shy about confessing our puppy loves? Easy to see its a school girl/boy thing, but as adults, do we still get puppy love feelings? My gut says yes! because puppy love is quite an additing feeling ---- we're all a-twitter when we see or speak with that person. The chemical endorphin type rush we get makes us feel really good (even though the crash at the end can be horrible.) I like to think that as adults even though we feel some kind of attraction for another, its whether or not we act on it that makes all the difference in the world. Having feelings isn't wrong, its what we do because of those feelings that make them wrong.

Now.....
.......... pause for a moment.....
....................................... and think back to your old puppy loves.

Hopefully, it brings as big a smile to you as remembering mine did to me!

HUGS to everyone!

Memories

Memories: We all have them. But how selective are we in what we remember? I've been thinking about things in the past, and wanting to jot a few notes about my own memories with my kids, because I thought we had some really great times (in spite of how things turned out in the long run).... but... is how I remember it really how it was? Are the memories I thought I was creating with the kids what they remember?

Take, for example, the blended family we created when I moved to Ohio. We were all getting to know each other, and as expected, it was quite the adjustment for the kids. Needless to say, there were a few altercations and harsh words on occasion. And after a particularly rough day, it was like "OK, enough is enough, something's got to give." (At this point in time, I was a stay at home mom to these six wonderful kids, but some days weren't so wonderful!)

It had been a rather squabbling type day, and the kids had finally settled into watching TV. So, in order to lighten up the entire mood of the day (keep in mind, I can be rather goofy from time to time.. hehehe) , I decided to dig in my "treasure bag of goodies" and pulled out a bag of Nerf balls. I show my "partner in crime" what I've got and with a grin, we head into the family room, balls hidden, but at the ready. We casually stand there behind the sofa, checking out the scene. A couple of the kids glance back, checking out why the 'rents are in the room. No one says anything, they just go back to watching their show. One look at each other, and we know its time, so we rear back and lob a couple of balls at the kids, and grab a couple more. All in all, a dozen balls get thrown into the room. And no sooner do the kids feel the incoming that they get up off their collective duffs and begin lobbing them back at us. Rocket, the dog, goes nuts and thinks this game is GREAT! Lots of laughter ensues, and the war goes on, back and forth, adults against the kids. And the kids are smiling, laughing, and even better, they're kind of bonding. It's no longer "us against them" between the six of them, its them against the 'rents! (and no, as I recall, they did NOT beat us!! hahahaha) Those were some great times, and a major turning point in the overall scheme of "everyone getting along". But more imporant, it was the start of some great family memories. (and, of course, they realized the new mom was somewhat of a nut!)

Now I'm wondering two things: Do they remember it the way I do? And is it among their own fave family memories??

When it comes down to the end of our time on Earth, all we have is our memories, all we take with us is our memories... so drag out your fave memory and share it with someone in your family!

HUGS to everyone!

Productivity vs Killing Time

How much time during our work day do we kill time? 10%? 20%? more?
Some days more than others? Today was a slow day in the claims office ... because we had everything caught up on Friday? because its relative to the number of shoppers in the store? (being the last week of the month, it is typical to have fewer shoppers in the store, waiting on their check on the first of the month.)

What do we base our job productivity on? There are some who don't care much about that, and go to their job with one thing in mind: to collect a paycheck. (And while I'm not against that .. I mean, I like work, but I wouldn't do it for free!) Then there are some who care a great deal about what they do, and why.

I'm sure there are productivity "markers" based on the job you're doing. If you're stock brokering, is a good day the day you "bag the elephant" [as they say in the movie Wall Street] ? If you're a used car salesman, is it the high profit sale you make to a businessman? or the lower profit sale you make to the single mom who desperately needs the car to get back and forth to work? If you're a stay at home mom (who, by the way, work the hardest, 24/7, in my opinion!) what is a good day for you? laundry finished, house clean, errands ran, kids tucked in bed? What part of your job is the "personal feel-goods" ??

I've been lucky in the jobs I've held over the years. I've done a lot of different things, and have an innate ability to break down tasks into workable portions and base my productivity and "personal feel-goods" into daily accomplishments and making sure my TO DO list is smaller when I leave than when I arrived.

But ... what triggers that sense within each of us? How and when do we learn about a job well done? Is it a part of our upbringing? And has this sense gone by the wayside?
Are we so caught up in the bottom line rewards that we forget about the people we're dealing with in the first place? No matter which job you're in, in the long run, it is always geared towards a customer. Be it service or sales of some product, the end of the line is the customer, or consumer.

So the next time you're wasting time at work ,,,... find something that will be a "personal feel-goods" at the end of the day.. and do it! You'll probably go home with a big smile on your face :) I know I do. (And it makes everyone else wonder what I've been up to.... )

HUGS to everyone!

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Blogging

As usual, I can be found most often in a chat channel using IRC (Internet Relay Chat). And today we were talking about blogs... (curlers): I blog every few days or so, sometimes it's just a little blurb or something *shooes figures no one cares what I have to say anyway hehehe (curlers): me too (curlers): lol (shooes): :) (curlers): no one wants to read my drabble, but I share it anways. (Gal): funny how every blogging place has its own great features. Wish my fave features from each was all in one place. (TuLips): just like your men, GAL :)) (TuLips): no one give two hoots about what goes on in my life, cause it's boring hon (TuLips): Dear Blog... today I woke up... woohooo - started out right then :) (BobEvans): do you record your dreams for public review? (TuLips): just her sex ones, BobEvans (Gal): hahaha!! and yeah. I've done that, get up in the middle of the night and blog. then go back to sleep. but then, I'm not normal. (BobEvans): I don't know if I want to put all my info out there and soon the conversation in the chat channel died off: (Gal) and everyone is off reading something personal about someone else, in some other place, some other time. (curlers): lol (Gal): why are we all fascinated with how others are living? (Gal): is it because we're not as connected as we once were? And I got to thinking (don't I always ??? lol) about blogs in general. What's the draw to reading other blogs? And .. do those who blog read a lot of others? Or just a select few? Do those who don't write blogs tend to read more of them? Perhaps its like being a voyeur - getting a glimpse into another person's life and experiences. I tried to consider the type of blogs that interest me most. Usually it's the ones that are well written, with a dash of humor thrown in; and usually about life experiences and real thoughts. I don't usually care to read an unknown person's fiction, but I DO enjoy the fiction if I already know the person. It's funny, once you start reading a blog, and getting a slice of that person's life, you tend to go back and read it again. Besides the MySpace blogs of friends that I read faithfully, I read two others, and they're no one I've ever spoken with before. But it can be fun! And I hope those of you reading this feel the same way about my blogs: Its just a little slice of the pie from my little corner of the world. And hopefully brings a smile every now and again! So go out there and read a blog! or... write your own! And if you do, let me know where it is, so I can read it too!!

HUGS to everyone!

Vulnerable

Vulnerable: capable of being wounded or hurt. We've all felt this way from time to time. Sometimes more often than others, depending on what's going on in our lives.

One of the hardest things we can do is to share with someone the very things that are at the heart of us. Because after we've shared, we feel very vulnerable. But yet, sharing is the one thing we seem to need to do more often than not. For me personally, sharing things that leave me feeling vulnerable doesn't come easy. Recently, a good friend and I were sharing, and since neither of us is the type who share stuff often, I was touched, moved, by the willingness to open up. And I have to say that sharing things with me from the heart is like a vote of confidence in who I am, and the depth of the relationship between us. And that's a true sign of friendship; something I value very highly in this world.

And it got me to thinking: have we closed ourselves off so much so that we have stopped sharing the things that would draw us closer? Take a look at love, how it comes and goes these days -- marriages that don't last, people who fall in and out of love over and over again, or think the grass is greener over there. Most don't bother to stick it out through the bad times any more. But I ask you this: Would we be more willing to stick with it, if we learned to share and let ourselves be a little more vulnerable in the relationships that are important to us? Would we get back to more honest, basic living if we quit trying to dodge around those things?

Its a scary thing to expose ourselves to something new, different, challenging. If we were guaranteed that it wouldn't hurt us, we'd have no problem! But there are no guarantees in life. And some things are going to hurt us. If we live inside a bubble avoiding the hurts, we might miss the joys headed our way! I know I've been trying to be better at taking a few more risks when it comes to matters of the heart; to not shy away from expressing what I feel.

As Maya Angelou has said:

I've learned that people will forget what you said,
people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you made them feel.

HUGS to everyone!

Just a dream

Now this is more normal .... I'm upstairs in an apartment home [sorry, don't recognize it, it's not one I've really lived in] and my bedroom has a carved dark wood door. I'm at my computer and I've been trying to set up dates via the internet. After a couple of loser dates, I finally have two that seem promising. Only in my jumbled mind, I've set them both up for the same night. Bob arrives first, and is very understanding, shakes my hand and turns to leave. Then Arthur comes up the stairs. He is cute, with golden curly hair, and blue blue eyes, he's tall, and kind of shy. We grab car keys and head out the door. I recall hollering to someone close by that I'm leaving.

I toss him the keys and let him drive, and we head out. Its been raining, so the streets are wet. We're turning down an on-ramp to the freeway, and take the next off-ramp. And I'm telling him how to drive, to slow down, because this off-ramp is tricky when wet (it's a familiar off-ramp to me, 13th street exit off 101 -- which I took to work every day for 22 years!) [ok ok, so I shouldn't be backseat driving...]. We had a good time, so he brought me back home. We go back to my room and he stays the night. There was no sex, but curling up next to him was heavenly. [and in my notes in the middle of the night I wrote "Arthur. Old Fashioned." hmm]

While he was sleeping, I got up, went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Mom was there, cleaning, and asked how it went. She smiles, knowing he's upstairs in my room. I pass my Aunt, who is busy cleaning the bathroom. Next scene, I hear crying - Steve's baby [who is Steve you're asking? lol my ex, and why does he have a baby at 52? and worse, why is it here? ] Settle the baby with a teenaged girl.

When I return back to my room, Arthur is awake, and we fight. I'm not who I said I was, he tells me. And I tell him I think he's wrong, but it's his choice, he's missing out on a great gal. And rather than run, he should stick around and give it a try, see if it goes anywhere.

That's about where I wake up. And can feel myself smiling in the dark. And decide I'd better write this down, before I lose it. I remember thinking to myself it was such a good dream, I'm sure I"ll remember. But I'm finding just mere hours later, the sequences, and the details are escaping me. If we fought, why did I wake up smiling? There must have been more. I know that I got a real sense about this Arthur, that I already knew him before I met him. "We've met before, once upon a dream." -Cinderella [no worries, I won't break into song!]

The hardest part I have with interpreting my own dreams is whether its solving some problem, or wishing something was true. Like... is Arthur someone I already know? or have yet to meet? Was this premonition? or was I wishing that someone I already know is gonna be my Arthur?

"Sommmmme daaaaay my Prince will come"
ooops sorry, just slipped out!
But some day.....

HUGS to everyone!

CrAzY Dreams

I've been pondering this one a couple of days because .... not a lick of it made sense! But that's nothing new to me. (I'm truly thinking I need to change my eating habits, or eating times, or try to find what triggers these strange ones!)

For some reason, the hallways and walkways of an airport seem endlessly long. And they're no better in dreams. I'm in a hallway with the usual non staining ugly industrial gray patterned carpet. I'm laden down with the usual bags, and holding the hand of a small girl. My sister is along on this trip, and she's also holding the hand of a small one. Walking seems to go slow; maybe its the endless corridor, but we finally arrive at our check-in point. and we get out our tickets. Odd as it may seem, it appears to be a picture colored in child like strokes. The attendant tells us things are ready, we may board, and do we have everything we need? ummm, huh? "Is there something we should know?" I ask her. She just smiles and says "Its all good, you look like you're ready. Watch your step when boarding the airbus." (Since when are they called an "airbus"?) As we walk down the corridor, we can see the airbus in front of us. I came to a stop and blinked a few times as I'm taking it all in. It's not like any "airbus" in my imagination. This one is open seating, some seats facing front, some backwards, like you'd see on a commuter train. The top is open. Or rather, there isn't a roof on this thing. And even though its the end of the evening, there is still enough twilight to make out most of the details. Like, this airbus is painted pink, with legs that appear to be running, and a huge smiling mouth underneath its front snout. [oh boy ... if i didnt know better, i'd wonder if i'd been drinking tequila!! lol]

We step in and stow our things underneath our seats (which lift up like the seats on a boat). The Captain [pilot?] appears to be a jolly old fellow, and makes us feel welcome. And its time for our journey to begin.

This thing starts its "take off" but .. it doesn't fly like any normal airplane, it seems to ride on invisible rails, skimming over rooftops and taking routes used for cars on the ground. We zoom between buildings, and I'm constantly pulling the hands of the girl I'm traveling with back inside the airbus. The wind is whoooshing through our hair, and as nighttime falls, street lights blink on , neon lights are seen across the city. We slow down and stop for a red light, and the Captain stands up and tells us its time for a break, waves his hand in the general direction of one of the taller building, sits back down and makes a right hand turn. The airbus comes to a halt on the street, and then proceeds to back into this tall building through an open garage door. We get up to stretch our legs and buy coffees as the snack bar.

As we reload back onto the airbus, I decided I wanted to sit along one of the running boards, legs stretched out, comfortable. As we pull out of the building, its as if the building is facing another direction, because we pull out over the water. And the bottom of the airbus trails along, leaving a wake behind us. Some of the water splashes up on to me, and I laugh, one hand trailing along in the water as well. The Captain slows the boat again to point out a landmark, but all I can do is stare at the water. It appears rather greenish at first, but lightens up as hundreds of fish come to the surface, breaking it with their face [snout? nose? beak? not sure of the proper term here], diving in unison back down, only to repeat it again. I call attention to it to the others on board this "pink pig airbus", but they're busy looking at something else.

Suddenly, one of the fish jumps out of the water, and into my lap. Ewwwww I squeeeeled as I tried to grab this slimey thing and toss it back. It wiggles out of my hands a couple of times before I get a good grip and toss it back into the water. I shudder in disgust [that's normal, i don't like to touch fish IRL either!] and begin to mumble to myself about what a strange trip this is. People turn to stare at me, wondering what the fuss was all about, and as I'm describing it to one, she turns and points out over the water, saying OMG!

I turn where I'm sitting [remember, i'm on the running board, quite close to the water!] and I see what she sees: a huge hulking green monster thing rising up out of the water, with the biggest head and shoulders I've ever seen [now, on a man, that can be a good thing, yes? hehe]. It starts walking closer alongside our airbus, closer with each step, and I can sense most of the other passengers shivering in fright, me along with them. But one is trying to cover up the little laughs exploding from his mouth. So I take another good look at this "monster" and realize its not a "monster" at all, just my brother in law, Rob, dressed in a costume to scare us!!

That's when I woke up. With both a sense of relief and a little bit of laughter as it finished up. But it kept me awake after that for nearly half an hour, trying to figure out the snippets of this dream. To no avail. Is it any wonder? lol

HUGS to everyone!

Kudos

Kudos is a singular Greek word meaning praise. Sometimes when we're given " kudos" it can have a different meaning, depending on where it comes from. Or who it comes from! And in the last 24 hours, I got a few kudos.

Yesterday at work I was doing some of the processing of defective items on the handheld computer. My "work space" for this is along the wall of a hallway between where people walk in and the Market Team's office. (Market Team is the group of folks who are above my store manager, making sure he's carrying out policy, etc.). Our head Market guy is Steve. He walks up and asks how it's going, and .. its been a tough week off and on for me, so I was honest and mentioned how I was feeling a little overwhelmed by some of it. And he said "Don't worry, you'll do fine. You'll learn quickly, and have it running great, just like you did in all the other departments you've worked in." Kudos!

Today, I was sweeping up my "office" (which is really a cage that gets locked up every night, because of the secured items in it) after most of the day's work was done. The store manager popped in on his way past and asked how I was liking the job. And I was honest... and said that I wasn't real sure about it, that it was difficult to do something totally different after doing the same thing for the past six years. And he told me "Not to worry, you'll do fine. You're the right person for the job." Kudos!

And in talking about the economy and taxes, someone who knows me well says "I'm pissed off with people that are doing well, that don't want to share. Here it is, you are working damned hard, damn damn harder than anybody I know, and all the breaks go to the wealthy." Kudos!

And sometimes, we have to give kudos as well:

To my sis, Em : Leaving something is hard; but going to something totally new, and challenging, is worth it. I've watched you grow as a person in the past three years, and you're going to be GREAT in this new position! 5374 will miss you bunches! KUDOS Sis!!

HUGS to everyone!

Attitudes

Have you ever wondered - been amazed - in total awe of - how different things look when we adjust our attitude? Or when we realize that our petty issues aren't nearly as bad as someone else's problems??

Yesterday was a rough day at work, and I brought that attitude home with me. I am unhappy with myself when I let that happen. Why should I be carrying all that baggage of the day into my evening, my time away from work? And yet, we still do it, even when we're aware.

Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~Winston Churchill

As luck would have it ... correction: it isn't luck ..... it is much caring. But, I always feel better after I'm able to talk the bad things out with someone very special to me. He shares his wisdom, and asks questions so that I can figure out my direction on my own. He is a blessing to have in my life!! (HUGS!)

If you don't like something change it;
if you can't change it,
change the way you think about it.
~Mary Engelbreit

Sometimes, just talking about it makes it better. Toward the end of my evening, most of my attitude was gone, and my mindset was more about finding a way to succeed at my new position rather than fight what it is for the moment. And maybe that would enlighten me to a way to make things better - for me, and for work. Just that slight change in thinking, and today went much smoother. (Of course, having a request fulfilled certainly added to a better attitude .... *giggles* ... TY !! )

Wouldn't it be nice if there was some kind of attitude adjustment switch we could flip on or off as we're leaving work? Over the years, especially when my kids were younger, I realized how important it is to use the time between work and home to change up that attitude. And I've found several things that do the trick: Peace and quiet; classical music; good 80's rock; or some jumping oldies; calling a good friend. Whatever the trick is for you, sometimes its just being aware of our attitude --- before we get home ... so we don't have to take it out on the dog. :)

HUGS to everyone

Mediocrity and Men

I'm not sure whether its the financial news that's popping this word up, or if it's related to how I've been feeling about things lately. But the word mediocre / mediocrity has come to my attention several times last week. And it's not a word that we use in every day language! Of course, synchronicity being what it is, when it happens a few times, maybe its time to pay attention!! So I checked my faves:

Google says: moderate to inferior in quality ; average: lacking exceptional quality or ability
second-rater: a person of second-rate ability or value
Wikidictionary says: Ordinary: not extraordinary; not special, exceptional, or great; of medium quality

That's probably the one I like the best. Or maybe that one describes how I've been feeling lately. Not that I'm bad, terrible, etc, just ... not feeling extra special.
Maybe an explanation would help.

Women, in general, tend to think a certain way. When an apology is owed us, if we have to remind someone to say it, it loses some of its meaning. Am I right? Taking this into the chat spectrum, there's a guy telling you how special you are, or maybe says something about how pretty you are, or that you deserve a great guy to take care of you (or whatever the current catch phrase of the day is..... ). Most of the time, I take it for what it is, in the current moment. (Maybe its the old "98% of what you hear is bullshit" thinking...) But some days, it can truly get me down. Not because I don't think I'm worthy (cuz I AM!) but because men are saying the words, and they don't ... or is it can't???... follow through with actions to back that up.

It makes it very difficult to believe one is "special" , "beautiful" or "terrific" if the ones saying it don't stick around long enough to pursue anything beyond "hey baby, wanna fool around". But rather than letting one guy's false words make us feel mediocre, that's when us women need to buck up, draw a hard line, and know that we ARE worth it.

My fave line is : HIS loss. Because that's what it truly is ... HIS loss - for losing what might have been the greatest thing that ever happened him.

HUGS to all the UN-mediocre women out there!
and HUGS to everyone else, too!!

A Date with Scooter

I became single in the month of June. And by September, I had struck up a chat friendship with a gentleman who's nickname escapes me. But, that's not important. Let's call him OhioGuy. (It was probably something close to that.) We'd struck up a chatting thing off and on for a few days before he said he would be in town and wanted to meet for dinner. We had swapped pix, life stories, and all the other things that come up in topics. I was hesitant, but he reassured me. So, after work, I decided to drive on up. He had given me directions to the hotel, and said that I should pull up to the valet parking (ooo la laaaaa, did I feel special!) So, amidst a bunch of nerves and all that, I arrived. And met OhioGuy. He was there, waiting in the lobby for me. He opened the door, said "You must be Linda", and gave me a brief hug. As with every internet meet, you're never quite sure what you'll get ... some folks don't look like the picture they sent, and some do. And while a picture might be worth a thousand words, it's hard to judge things like height if there's no reference point (or the colored, numbered stickers like they have on doorways to 7-11's!! haha) He was a bit shorter than anticipated (not a big deal) but the smile was just as friendly. 

 We walked uptown a couple blocks to a restaurant, and sat down, ordered dinner. Now, first dates usually make me nervous, and eating isn't a top priority, but its what everyone wants to do it seems! Ah well. A few awkward smiles across the table and the conversation starts with simple things ... the drive, what business he's in town for, the usual stuff. And somewhere in this conversation, a few things shock me: First, he's not really single, or separated. (for me, that's a deal breaker) . Then he tells me that everyone calls him Scooter, and always have, and would I call him that too? Well, sure. But. The phrase "Ohhh Yessss Scooter" just has an odd ring to it, am I right? [laughs] But the one thing that convinced me that a one night stand is NOT in order, is that with his white hair and beard (which he didn't have in the pic he sent) made him look very much like my Dad. At this point, I'm pretty certain the evening isn't going to go the way Scooter thought it might!!! 

 After dinner, we go back to the hotel, and up to his room to change into swimsuits, because this particular hotel has a hottub on the rooftop. It's a warm Indian Summer kind of evening, and we have it to ourselves. We're smiling, and talking, and I'm looking at the stars as they pop out into the night sky. There's a gym up here, too, and it's full of men working out. And about 15 minutes later, the doors roll open and all these men are done working out, and check out the temp of the pool (too cold) and several come slip in this huge hottub with us. After smiling and exchanging looks (and oh yes, eavesdropping on their conversation) , two and two finally come together -- they're on the LA Galaxy soccer team. So there's chubby-me, my date Scooter, and 5 or 6 young hardbodies in this hottub. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, or a bad thing. Wait. Its a good thing.... nothing like a bit of eye candy to round out an evening!! 

 Back in his room, we changed into street clothes again. Well, I did. He decided on a pair of loose shorts and a T-shirt. A couple of kisses later, the old "I better hit the road, long drive, work tomorrow" excuse comes out. He walks me down to the lobby, waits until the valet brings my car, and kisses me goodbye. I drive off into the warm night air with mixed feelings. It was really nice to be on a date again, to laugh and be with somebody, but ... this was not The One. lol

Not much news, yet

When I saw the doc, the nurse did the usual thing .... height (Goodness, I've shrunk half an inch!) and weight (30lbs lost since I moved here). My blood pressure is normal, for me (112/76). Then she sticks a thingy on the end of my finger. I thought "Wow! interesting way to take a temp, cool." Only she says 98%. And I'm thinking huh? so I ask "98% of what? Is that good? bad?" She tells me its 98% oxygen, and 100% is perfect. (the song "close enough to perfect for me" runs through my head). That was a first, never had that measured before.

So far, nothing substantial in the way of results of my CT scan, other than the obvious "Yes, there's something there" statement. Well, I could have told them THAT! It's the reason I went to the doc in the first place! lol At this point its just "a mass", according to them. To me, it feels like ..... a flattened out ping pong ball might be the best description. She's sending my scan around to two colleagues, a surgeon and a urologist. And will call me later this week to set up another appointment of some kind, I'm betting. Its not something that's bothering me as in painful. But, I'm also not thrilled having an unknown doing unknown things, ya know? It's on my right side, just below my ribs, and quite frankly could be nothing more than just some scar tissue build up from previous surgeries. Otherwise, I'm as healthy as expected to be given my age. (good grief, I hate that statement!)

Ohh boy, I gotta tell ya tho, docs have come a long way since I started going to them. I've come to expect the white coat over clothes that are .. hmm, both practical and professional at the same time. My new doc came strolling in wearing an electric blue jersey dress that clings to every curve, with a low v-neck, legs that went on forever, and darling stiletto heels!! Her hair was "done up" and she wore the cutest glasses. and no white coat. wow. While there was still a professional feel about the whole thing, there wasn't any anxiety that one can feel when talking to a "white coat".

Will keep everyone posted as I know things.

HUGS to everyone!!

Meeting Michael

It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't done "the chat thing" ... but when you chat with someone on a nearly daily basis for four years, you get to know them pretty well. And they know you, too. Because sometimes, its so easy to say things here. Maybe too easy. And things you might not tell a person face to face, you find yourself confessing in a chat, or on a blog.

The weather's been really nice lately, and its been way too long since I've had a vacation. (Loading a truck and driving west for 4 days, towing a car, is NOT my idea of a vacation!! but necessary). So, on the spur of the moment, I decide to rent a car and head for the west coast, needing to see the Pacific Ocean again. It's not a long drive, so I start out in the early morning, tunes on the radio, a cooler packed with a few fav treats - two Diet Cokes, 6 bottles of water, a bag of pretzels, and a PB sammich. Needless to say, when I mentioned that I was heading that direction, Michael was surprised, but pleasantly so, it seems. We talked about meeting for lunch, but couldn't decide on anywhere, so he gave directions to his house. OK, have to admit, there's just a tad bit of nervousness. I mean, there are times you meet someone from the 'net and they're not exactly what they appear. Or maybe it's the expectations you get in your own mind, because let's face it, we all interpret things differently from the written word.

As I cross into California, I can hardly believe that I'm heading this way. I've thought about it, had dreams about meeting him. Once, I dreamt we were both at a local craft fair, and we met at the 'food area' at the picnic tables. I knew it was him because he was wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with the black happy smile face on it (ie: Forrest Gump? lol ) But this is different. This is real. Oh my gosh, don't think about it, tune in to the songs playing on the radio. And keep driving.

Finally, I get to the signs to turn off the freeway system (they're terrible in LA!) and follow directions into the town, this way, that way, lefts and rights, OK, now I'm supposed to watch for a mailbox peeking out through the trees, and turn left. Ahhhh, there it is. (Yes, I talk to myself when I drive!) As I pull into the driveway, I have to stop here. I can't see the house, but I know its just on the other side of this curve. I take a deep breath. And another. Wipe my palms off. And feel a shiver from head to toe. My heart is beating - not a pounding beat, but more erratic. My mouth goes dry. I sip some water. Apply some lipstick. And put the car back into drive.

Driving slowly, up and around the bend, and I get a first look at the house. Funny. It's just how I pictured it; but then, Michael is very good with painting a picture with words. (He's also good at drawing pictures ... when we first chatted, he drew me from a photo I had sent... I still have it to this day!) I come to a stop about 30 feet from the front steps. And take another deep breath. This is the moment I've waited four long years for. I open the driver's door, step out of the car, and begin walking towards the front door. Time seems as if it's suspended in slow motion. And the front door opens, and there he is. Looking so handsome, just as I pictured him. And yet different. No, not different. Real. I can feel my smile growing on my face, my cheeks turning a pink blush. "Hey you, you made it!" he says. I grin even further and nod, words rolling in my head and nothing coming out my mouth. There's like a million and one things I want to say, and yet mere words wouldn't be enough. Our eyes lock on each others, drinking in the sight of someone who we know intimately, and yet we've only just met.

As I get closer to the steps, he walks down the steps and we meet at the bottom, his hand outstretched for mine. The moment our hands touch, there is a crackle in the air (or is that in my head?) and its as if every nerve inside me is hummming from the vibrations of his touch. After holding that pose for a few seconds (that seem like eternity), gazing into each other's eyes, no words seem necessary, and he pulls me in for a hug that's so delicious the world falls away, and no one exists but us two.

Sadly, that's when I wake up!

I have tried to "encourage" this dream to repeat itself, to continue even further.
With no luck.
One of these days, I'm hoping to make this dream a reality.
Wish me luck!

Cat Scans

On Monday, I had one of those dreaded medical tests - a cat scan. I've had several in my lifetime, so I'm no stranger to the procedure. And procedure would be the operative word! It's not like an Xray where you can just bop on in and get a "picture" taken. What's a CT scan? Don't ask me to get technical about it ... wiki says its Computer Tomography .... Digital geometry processing is used to generate a three-dimensional image of the inside of an object from a large series of two-dimensional images taken around a single axis of rotation. The word "tomography" is derived from the Greek tomos (slice) and graphein (to write). There, now we all know.

For those not familiar, it goes something like this ...
>> First, you get a call ... "Hello, your CT Scan is scheduled for 3pm. Please arrive no later than 1:30pm" (ohh boy, is there gonna be a long line for this ride?) Then they inform you there's no eating or drinking 4 hours before your test.

>> On the day of your appointment, you give all your information to a hospital admissions clerk. (name, address, credit history, name of your firstborn...)

>> You wait, and you wait, while they process dozens of others (ok, maybe six ahead of me!) and then call you for blood work. If you're lucky, you get a nice nurse who doesn't prick you too hard, too deep, and gets it on the first try. ( "Whooops" isn't a good term to be hearing!)

>> Then you're escorted over to the CT Scan waiting room. And a handsome man nurse comes out and introduces himself, and hands you three bottles of barium, and a straw. (Like the straw helps to get it down any better?) Inside these bottles is a white runny liquid... looks like Milk of Magnesia and the label says "Banana Smoothie". Ohh yummmy! (not) The clock on the wall reads 2:15pm - so you have 45 minutes to get this stuff down. And since you haven't eaten, or had anything to drink since before lunchtime, Banana Smoothie sounds mighty fine. But .. imagine drinking liquid chalk, with a hint of banana flavor... the fake kind they use in candies. *shudder*

>> It's now 3:20pm and your barium "cocktails" are gone, and you've wandered around to use the bathroom, and stretch your legs, and generally kill time. And finally, they come get you, tell you the delay was because they were waiting on your "labs" and stick an IV in your arm. And you wait. and wait. And because of the machinery in this area of the hospital, the rooms are kept quite chilly. Add in a case of nerves, and you shiver from time to time (But the nice nurse brings out a warmed blanket to toss around you ... mmmm)

>> Finally, its time for the CT scan itself, and you shuffle back to the room with the big machine, and another nurse tells you to get on the table. The last time I had one, I had to undress and wear one of the lovely little gowns with a "peek a boo" backside! Luckily, they said Nope! Just hop up on the table and get all comfy like. OK. Its not easy getting comfy on a metal rolling table. But I know enough to find a good position that I can hold for the next half hour.

>> Nurse comes over and says she's gonna "flush my IV with saline".... And then we get started. Whrrrrrr goes the rolling table, up and into The Hole. and a disembodied voice floats over the PA ... "Ok, take a deep breath and hold it...." and you do, and the machine whiiiiines up and spins, and the table slowly backs out of The Hole. The voice comes back "Ok, you can breathe...." *whew* Repeat twice more.

>> Nurse comes back and injects the dye into the IV, saying "Ok, you're going to feel some warmth in just a few moments..." and like a surge, it fills your veins, and the warmth seems to start at the very core, and spread outward. (You know you're "saturated" when you can taste the coppery ickyness in your mouth.) Repeat above steps with the disembodied voice.

>> When they say you're done... you wonder ... are you really? You're left laying there while techs read what they've scanned of your innards. It's my hope that they're checking so that you don't have to come back and repeat all this because there was a fly in the wrong spot, at the wrong time!

>> Finally, Nurse comes back and disassembles the IV and wraps your arm and you get up and off the rolling table, sour taste in your mouth, and a wave of relief that it's over and done with.

(Gee, I can't wait to get the bill for this!!)

HUGS to everyone!

A Great Friend....

A Great Friend .....
is the one who's there for you
when you need them most.
Even if its inconvenient.
Who asks you how it went,
even before saying hello.

to my great friend out there,
thank you for being there for me.
HUGS!!

Love Letters

Love Letters ... Are they a thing of the past? Considered old fashioned? Has technology taken over? In the movie Sex and the City, Carrie asks: "Have you ever written me a love letter?" and Mr Big answers "Does a love fax count?"

Before all this technology came along, people wrote letters, sent cards, to show someone they cared. Men wrote love letters to those they were separated from. Old fashioned movies depict women with a stack of love letters, usually tied with a ribbon.

Different times call for different measures; being innovative and using what's available. But for sentimental gals, how do you hang on to the memories of an email? a voice mail? or a txt msg? Do you save it forever? Or write about it in a journal? Have we lost our sentimentality in this consumable world? Have we lost the art of love letters ??

To me, there's something sacred about the written word, seeing the handwriting of the one you love, written on special paper, perhaps. The authors of 18th century love letters were masters at this form of letter writing. They would use special parchment paper, hand written with a quill; the envelope was sealed with wax and bundled with special ribbon. They were concerned with presentation as well as content.

Words can penetrate into any heart with their sheer current and sensation. Love letters are the most cherished possessions of the lover. But it's not easy to put your overwhelming feelings down on a paper and say it all. With all the new technology, there are websites that can help anyone write a great love letter. With helpful hints, and a turn of a phrase, you can say just about anything, to just about anyone.

In this day and age, no matter which method you choose to convey your words ..........
the greatest love letter of all is the one written from the heart.

HUGS and Love Letters to everyone!

Him

She wants to see Him in her dreams, 

to imagine His touch 

to listen to His whispered words. 

  She scampers into her bed and lays down 

snuggles in closes her eyes and thinks about Him. 

  She remembers the time they shared that day 

words He spoke advice given praise offered 

how He calls her His little one. 

  She realizes she has a deep, profound respect for Him. 

for His sense of Honor right from wrong 

and the way He cares for others. 

  She knows that learning from Him has been an experience 

a growth process of learning to trust again. 

  She wonders if He realizes His impact on her life, 

her thinking and the way she conducts herself. 

  

She hopes that He knows how much He is cared for in return 

that He is appreciated and deeply loved. 

  and for all of this, She is happy He crossed her path. 

(LD Poetry ©2007)

Betty Crocker Bake Off

Is it really a Bake Off if you're using the microwave??

Ok, so its Friday night, and I'm craving a chocolate dessert. About a month ago, I found this little treasure in the grocery store by Betty Crocker... called Warm Delights Minis. And my son and I decided to try them. With two microwaves, it's obviously going to become a "showdown". So, we opened up the package, and they come complete with everything! A small bowl. A small package of cake mix, and equally small package of caramel. And we laugh as we open these miniature portions ...................

"It's like an Easy Bake Oven thing!!"

Pouring the cake mix into the mini bowl, we add our tablespoon plus teaspoon of water. and stir.

Squeeze caramel packet 10 times. (yes, ten, not six, eight or twelve!)

Cut a corner off the caramel packet, and squirt over the top of the chocolatey goo in the bowl.

Place in microwave for 30 seconds (or until it looks dry ... huh?)

Push start !!

And we watch the cake puff ..... and cook ....... and pulse .

~DING~

Wait two minutes for it to cool ..... * tap * tap * tap * (waiting is the hardest part!)

And now.. the taste test .... fork into the fluffy chocolate cake, the caramel warm and goooey... OooOOooOOooOoo yes, this is yummy. This passes the taste test in our household as a temporary fix to that chocolate craving thing.....

HUGS to everyone!

The Perfect Bra

The quest for the perfect bra seems never ending. They are always coming up with new fabrics, new techniques, new forms of support. My friend TC says "The perfect bra is NO bra!" Maybe I'm not so ordinary ..... or is the word "girly" ? ..... but I walk into the lingerie dept of a store and look at all the many different styles, colors, etc, and am totally baffled by the sheer number of choices in the matter. And barely even know where to begin looking. Of course, any good saleswoman will tell you to know your size first. Ok girls, how many of you really know your correct size ? At least, according to the way you're supposed to. Measuring for the band number... that part is easy. But ... not to get too graphic, but the next measurement is around the fullness of the breast. I can honestly say that mine are fuller if someone is holding them up in place, and gravity isn't playing evil tricks on me!! So... which number is it? hmm? *chuckles* Ok, Ok, I have a good idea what the right number should be.... so you start perusing all the choices in said size. And take a few into the fitting room with you, to give them a try. If you've gotten the band number correct, you'll know it in an instant. Too small and it won't reach around you, too large and you'll feel like you're swimming in an oversized tshirt.

The other part that gets difficult for me is ... in my job, I need one that provides support and comfort for me to move around. (ok, that sounds like a Playtex 18 Hour ad!) I don't want pretty laces that feel itchy if I'm hot and sweaty at work. Nothing worse than a woman who has to be scrunching and scratching because of some damned lace. Mostly, a bra with cotton blends works best for me there. But, why are they always in some drab neutral beige or grey? (Hello bra-makers, are you listening ?)

OK... so I've forged ahead into the lingerie dept with the correct size in mind. I am searching for two bras ... one for work and one that's lacier, prettier. I find the work bra with a very soft cottony feel, and its in a heather grey. (well, since i wear navy blue every day as a work uniform .. this should work well). The texture feels nice, no rough edges or seams anywhere, but goodness! It has "pre formed" cups. And yes, I get silly, and poke it, only to watch it pop right back out at me again. whoa. OK. I've scoffed at these for a long time now, but maybe, just maybe, there's something to them. Afterall, women wouldn't keep buying them if they didn't do what they're supposed to! The second that I spy is a deep red one, with very fine black lace over the cups. Pretty!!!!!! With two choices in hand, its off to the fitting room.

Behind closed doors, I shed my shirt and get out of the bra I'm wearing. (Which, I might add, is the cottony work one, which has molded itself to my shape, and which I call my fav. But eventually, one of the wires will snap, and that's the end of that one.) First, I'll try on the soft grey one. with the molded cups. And I snicker as I fling it around me, upside down and backwards, in order to hook the snaps (I've never mastered the slipping it on, bending over or hooking it from the back way.) The snickers are because these molded cups make the bra pop into odd positions from behind. Turning it around, and slipping it into place, I check the results in the mirror. Hmmm. Different than what I'm used to. *poke* ..... *pop* (insert cheesey sound effect here! hahaha ) Yep, still keeps its shape. And my next thought is .. wonder how this will work in the washing machine? But.. I model and preen, turning this way and that, in front of the mirror. Checking to see how "the girls" look in this thing. Not bad, overall. So I slip my shirt back on because things might look different that way. And ... its ok. [If they still made the one that was "my fav" that's what I would be buying. Sadly, they quit making it.] But back to checking the mirror.... with this new one? I seem to be pointing in two different directions .... right and left, rather than forward! This... is.... weird. But it sure is comfy, I think to myself as I move around, imitating my moving a few boxes from the floor to a bench, and back down again. (bending over and spilling out of one's cups is not a good look at work!) Possibilities.

Next, time to try the pretty one. Same thing to hooking and spinning and slipping into this bra that declares "more cleavage". Once I get into it, and check things out, I find that I am totally "smooshed" into this bra. I check the tag, making sure I grabbed the right size, and yes, I did. But what the heck? I'm not even bent over and I'm spilling out all over the place. This is not feasible. This does not make me look good in any way. Who want's to be all smooshed up? I wanted something that would show a little more curve, not smoosh. Nope. This one is not the one for me. Too bad. It's very pretty!

The history of the bra is inextricably intertwined with the social history of the status of women, including the evolution of fashion and ever changing views of the body. If you're interested in learning more, you can at : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_brassieres .

Bra shopping is not on my Top 10 list of things I enjoy doing. It's more a necessity than pleasure. However, as with most things, I take it in stride, and try to find the humor in it.
And in case you're wondering ... I bought the grey one. :)

HUGS to everyone!

Wind Chimes

Wind chimes have tones and vibrations that soothe and calm the mind, helping to release all your stress, bringing harmony to both mind and spirit. Listening to chimes tinkle (the noise, not the other kind!) in the breeze can help you connect with your inner spirit, help us withdraw from the world, and gain strength from our inner spirit. Chimes have been used for much more than decoration for centuries. Wind chimes have been around since prehistoric times, when strings of shells were strung from trees near dwellings. They were a crude form of home decorating that may very well have been man's earliest attempt at beautifying his environment!

Last night, I dug out some totes in storage, and found all of my wind chimes that have been boxed up since .... Feb 2007 (yes, I started packing early!) And today, there was a really nice breeze, and I felt I needed to get them hung up. Its so nice to hear them again!!!

How much do you know about wind chimes? True or False... :

1.) Although humans may like the sound made by wind chimes, birds for the most part are scared away.

2.) In China, wind chimes are reserved for sacred temple purposes.

3.) According to early folklore legends, a wind chime hung over the doorway to a home brought good luck to the first person of the day to pass under them.

4.) Wind chimes purported to be "precision tuned," are in fact, just regular chimes with tubular pipes instead of irregular shapes.

5.) Both the diameter and the length of the pipe affect the tone of a wind chime.

6.) The type metal that sounds best when the striker hits the pipe is copper.

7.) Certain tones produced by a wind chime are believed to have a healing effect.

8.) Wind chimes can usually be purchased in a department store for less money than anywhere else.

9.) One of the reasons why wind chimes make perfect gifts for Mother's Day and terrific anniversary gifts is because of their symbolic meaning.

10.) Although a popular enhancement for garden yard decor, the use of chimes is prohibited in the Bible.

11.) The secret to producing the sweetest sound possible has to do with the point of contact between striker and pipe.

12.) The "Feng Shui" is the chromatic scale used to enhance the rich tones made by precision tuned pipes.

1.) False: Birds and many other forms of wildlife enjoy listening to the soothing tones made by tuned chimes.

2.) False: Many people in the Orient use wind chimes as part of their unique home decor, whether strictly for feng shui purposes or simply decorative art.

3.) False: They were hung over the door way to keep out wicked spirits, and to ward off evil omens.

4.) False: Precision tuned chimes are exactly what they say. Offering a soothing, relaxing medley of notes instead of the sometimes irritating bang and clang of ordinary kinds of chimes.

5.) True: Smaller diameter pipes produce a higher tone than pipes longer and/or larger in diameter.

6.) False: High grade aluminum produces a better sound in wind chimes; some aluminum pipes are treated to look like copper. But this is for decorative purposes only.

7.) True: Some tones do have a healing effect; calming our minds, relieving stress, awakening our spirits, and improving our concentration level.

8.) False: Many times you can purchase wind chimes online, where ease of shopping and selection is better. Some of the best buys for quality, precision tuned chimes can also be found online.

9.) True: They are symbolic of harmony and peace.

10.) False: The Bible does not address the matter, and there is no reason to avoid their use. Chimes are a lovely enhancement of nature, and their "song" a celebration of the creation that surrounds us.

11.) True: The "anti-nodes," or points of contact that vibrate the most to produce the sweetest sounds, are located in the middle and at both ends of the pipe.

12.) False: Chime pipes sound best (in my opinion) when tuned to the pentatonic scale, the same scale used to tune a piano's black keys. Feng shui has to do with harmony and

(Courtesy of Stephen Betzen, found at http://www.enchantedspirit.org/Spotlight/4707.php )

There's something to be said for being able to sit out on the balcony, reading a book, a cool drink by your side, while the world slowly spins around, and your chimes tinkling in the breeze! Its moments like this that make one believe "it doesn't get much better than this". :)

HUGS to everyone!

Fat Bottomed Girls

Great song by Queen! But I want to talk about the word "fat". Its just an adjective, much like "blonde" , "green" , "female" . It describes certain attributes. Where in the world did it become synonymous with "loser" , "lame" , "disgusting" , or "hopeless" ??? None of those adjectives apply to me, or any of my friends who might be "fat". Why is it that people assume that skinny is better? smarter? more fun? successful?

And why oh why have we given the word FAT so much power over us? to make us feel lousy about ourselves, the power to hurt us? No matter what the dictionary says, society has made the word FAT mean 'bad". Even though there are other words for it: Curvaceous, overweight, plus size, voluptuous. Society has somehow altered our view of words. Like the word "queer". When I was growing up, it meant odd. Then it became slang, and was perceived as a bad thing. Who would have thought, then, that "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" would be a hit show? hmm ? Maybe its time to "take back" the power of the FAT word!

Every woman thinks she's fat; if not all the time, at some point in her life. Ever call a friend and say "I feel so fat today" ?? Or.. .the classic... "Do I look fat in this?" And who determines what constitutes FAT? Is it the average size of the average woman as a basis? or ~gasp~ is it the average size of the average model?? some doctor? a scale? hip-to-waist ratio? Weight isn't the true measure of FAT. And lately, my ideal is Queen Latifah. I like her thinking: "I'm a size healthy, and you can be too." (yeah, I know, its an advertisement) but it says so much. Like.. its OK that you're not a size zero.

FAT is a state of mind. If you are the kind who gets out there, gets busy, stays active, doing what life allows you to do, then you're not FAT. An author I'm reading shows the difference between "fat girls" and "Fat Girls": fat girls hide their bodies in baggy shapeless clothes. Fat Girls show off their cleavage and draw attention to their curves; Fat Girls fight back!

Don't waste time and thinking on the word FAT.
Don't give it the power to make your life miserable.
Think about the things you CAN do. and DO it!! fight back!!
This Fat Girl does! :)

HUGS to everyone!!

Heroes

When something is brought to our attention, we tend to notice it more often. And this week, for me, it was the word "hero" . It started when the new season of the NBC show "Heroes" came on television. I happened to mention that I'd never watched the show, and a friend said it was a great show, I should watch it. (Thanks Chris!!!) But that season three wouldn't make sense until I watched one and two. So, me being me, I logged in to my local library and reserved it. It was available, so I picked it up and started watching it last weekend. And boy, did I !! -- got sucked in, and sort of addicted; interesting story lines, reality woven with fantasy, making things entirely believable. Ok. Maybe not entirely. But .. the possibilities!!

But... that wasn't the point of this! (boy, am I easily distractable or what!?) The point is that when something is brought to mind, we notice it more. There are many songs about heroes (my current fav is "Here's to the Heroes, by Ten Tenors), persons who do heroic things. Google puts it this way:

a man distinguished by exceptional courage and nobility and strength
champion: someone who fights for a cause
a being of great strength and courage celebrated for bold exploits;
often the offspring of a mortal and a god

In truth, not many of us come across these exceptional types on a daily basis. Or do we? There are an amazing number of "unsung heroes" who cross our paths every day:

those who tend to the little things;
those who come to our "rescue" when something goes wrong;
the ones who are there for us when we need a shoulder to cry on,
the ones who are strong when we need someone to lean on';
and the ones who love us just as we are, faults and all.

To all of my heroes: Em, Tammy, Cathy (my "sisters" !!!), Pammie,,, Prof,,, John,,, Chris,,, D. (yeah, You!),,, my online chat buddies,,, and my family .... Thank You! for being a hero to me!! I love you all.

So the next time the word "hero" pops into your reality ... take a moment and think about, and maybe even thank!, each one of your own heroes! I just did. :)

HUGS to everyone!!!

PS: As you know, kids think they know it all and scoff at parents who do silly things like get addicted to a TV Series.... but I'm going on record here: I convinced my son he should watch Heroes as well, so he gave it a try. And became addicted, just as I did. I know this, because as I was leaving for work at 5am the other morning, I could hear him watching it!! (hehehehehhee)