Category Archives: Life Lessons

8 tips for holiday airplane travel with toddlers in tow

airplaneMy family travels with me despite the fact that I am a traveling liability for them. It’s our family joke.

I am the one in the security line that gets selected for the mystery line or pulled aside to be double-checked by scanners. We’re not sure if I just look shady (my kids’ guess) or if I look like I’ve kidnapped my kids. We just expect it.

It turns out that I have a magnet implant that activates when I travel by air. It attracts less than desirable seatmate situations and more often loud and sticky toddlers. As soon as we spot a cranky toddler or belligerent traveler in our terminal, my family starts betting money that they will sit next to me on the plane.

So, on our recent pilgrimage to our home state for the Thanksgiving holiday, my usual air travel magnetism did not disappoint.

En-route to our turkey destination, there was a belligerent man sitting next to me in the terminal who was bragging loudly about how many shots he’d been getting from the airlines all day. After a full fifteen minutes of this, I exchanged rolled-eye glances with another woman nearby who was also witnessing his glory.  I joked after he left his seat that I would end up next to him on my flight. She knew I was heading to the same place that he was (and she wasn’t) and she wished me Godspeed.  And yes, he ended up two rows directly behind me where I could hear him offering to buy his entire row discounted shots.

On this flight there was a very upset, crying baby directly behind me.  This I could handle because the poor baby wasn’t kicking my seat and I was able to listen to music and tune him out. Also I realize that babies are hard to travel with.  I’ve been there. And mainly, I could tell that the dad with him was trying as hard as he could to comfort him.

On the way home however (after waiting in the airport for a couple of hours due to weather and air traffic delays), I had a yelling, grabbing, kicking, sticky toddler creature directly behind me on our tiny, claustrophobic plane.   He sat next to a man who appeared to be his Grandfather who had no awareness or control of the situation.   This scenario is the expected result of my air travel magnetism.

So, in light of my plethora of experience in this area, here are a few issues with related requests to parents traveling with kids.  I know it’s upsetting that passengers are bothered by your angelic children, but please read the following while imagining that you are in our seat:

Disclaimer: I have two kids and I love them dearly. I realize that they were young once and they certainly weren’t perfect.  I also know that often when kids on airplanes act out, the blame usually falls squarely in the clueless or exhausted parent’s lap, rather than the poor kiddo.

1. Males in charge.  Letting a male adult (dad, grandpa, brother, uncle) be in charge of the baby or toddler on the plane is not a good idea (most of the time).  Moms, I know you are trying to catch a break by getting someone else to be in charge and I also know that this is rather sexist of me to say, but most guys don’t seem to notice when a child in their charge is losing it.  They for sure don’t seem to know how to exhaust the fumes once the tantrum has begun. Save us all some brain cells please and hold the baby.  Maybe a glass of chardonnay will help.

2. Games and movies on Ipads. We’re thrilled you’ve got them busy.  Really we are. But when the volume on those things is on high and the voice of Dora the Explorer is almost as loud as your child’s voice, we want to hurt them both.

3. Baby talk.  We realize you don’t want to miss any opportunity to squeeze in a vocabulary lesson, Mommy.  I bet you have teaching experience.  You’re good at it.  But please save the incredibly loud drawn out baby-talk lessons that point out each plane and cloud in grave detail for a road trip in your car when we don’t all have to take the lesson too. Maybe try talking quietly in your toddler’s ear.  Or get creative with that Chardonnay.

4.  Flying objects.  On my way to Thanksgiving the other day a pacifier from the row behind me landed in my lap out of no where.  I was listening to music with my headphones and trying to doze off, so it scared the heck out of me.  The event did make me laugh a little because of the randomness as I passed it through the seats and handed it to the Dad (who was really working to comfort the little guy).  But in general, try to keep flying objects at a minimum.

5. Space invaders of the toddler kind. Sorry Moms and Dads but unless I am in a particularly good mood, I don’t think your kid is darling as she peers over my seat, drools on my tray and blows snot bubbles at me.  And no, we don’t all want to play peekaboo with your little angel. Please, please, please get them to sit down or to at least try to contain their bodily fluids in your seat area.

6. Seat kicking. Surely you notice that your child is kicking my seat.  Are you just tuning it out?  Or does it not cross your mind that in the same way that it bothers you when people kick your seat, we feel your child kicking our seat at about 13 kicks per minute?  Please try to be aware. Even with my music and earphones, I can’t tune this out.  And my Chardonnay isn’t nearly strong enough to help either.

7. Sticky, grasping hands.  Even if your kid’s hands aren’t that sticky, we don’t really want them to reach out and touch someone, especially us.  The toddler creature behind me on the way home the other day was able to fit his entire head and arm between my seat and the window as he literally grasped my arm.  Once again I was trying to doze off, to no avail.  Grandpa, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice this happening. You seemed awake.  Honestly, the thought of grabbing this little toddler’s arm back did cross my mind — just to mess with him. However, I realized this might cause more screaming or seat kicking.  It was a no-win situation.

8. Kids running loose up and down the aisle.  I’m concerned for you if you think that this is okay because it seems so very obvious.  Even if the seat belt sign is off, please don’t let your kid roam up and down the aisles skipping and yelling.  Not only is it dangerous due to the fact that YOU ARE IN AN AIRPLANE, but it’s also dangerous because I’m guessing I’m not the only one imagining what it would be like if someone tripped them after the thirteenth time they pass our seat .  Plus, it sure doesn’t help the poor flight attendants trying to do their job of serving all of us. Lock ’em up, people.  It’s your job to bring games or snacks to occupy them, not our job or the flight attendant’s job to entertain them.

All snot bubbles and sticky hands aside, if parents and grandparents could just exercise the teensiest bit of common sense and courtesy, and try to be a little  aware of the fellow travelers around the kiddos in their charge, we can definitely all peacefully coexist on an any airplane.  And I’m guessing your kiddo could even develop some wonderful courtesy skills of their own.

You just might even catch me playing peekaboo with your toddler to help you out.

Top three things NOT to say to someone visiting their loved one in a nursing home

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There have been numerous occasions when I have returned to my car in a furious state after a visit to see Mom (Little Red Riding Hood) at her senior living facility when a staff member said the wrong thing.

I don’t think anyone ever intentionally means to say the wrong thing. Honestly, I don’t think most staff members in these facilities realize the impact that their comments can have when every emotion we have is running at full tilt.

These unintentional slips happened much more often before I started volunteering at Mom’s place every Thursday afternoon to facilitate a Memories in the Making watercolor art class. Volunteering regularly has helped me get to know the caregivers and to be much more zen during my visits. However these slips still happen once in a while, and they still make me want to scream.

Top three worst things to say to someone visiting their loved one in a nursing home:

#1: Are you leaving already?

Really? I almost gave a receptionist a black eye one time for this one as I was signing out.  Do you realize where you work?  And that sometimes it takes everything in us visitors just to show up and see our loved one in a facility where everyone has dementia and they won’t be getting better?

No matter how nice the place is, there will always be that weird sterile smell and that cloud of heavy, stale air that hits us right in the heart as we pass through the doorway. You’re probably used to it because you work there, but I have to take a really deep breath and swallow hard each time I punch in the security code that leads me to the other side. Then as I walk the halls to look for Mom, all those blank stares, sideways smiles and random mutterings punch me right in the gut, one after another. And no matter how many times I experience it, the bottom of my stomach falls out each time I realize that Little Red Riding Hood has no idea who I am as I reach for her hand.

So yeah, my visit might be short every now and then, but I’m there. And if you know what’s best for you, smile nicely and tell me to have a great day.  It will be much safer for you.

#2:  I haven’t seen you for a long time.

You’ve got to be kidding me.  I find it hard to believe that your training manual doesn’t somewhere remind you that those with loved ones in a such a facility are already lugging around an extra fifty pounds of guilt, and that it would be best that if you don’t have anything nice to say, that you don’t say anything at all.  Little Red Riding Hood herself taught me that one many years ago, and it certainly applies here.

We’re all feeling guilty that we don’t come visit more often, so why remind us? Plus, it’s probably better for your business model to make family members feel good when they visit rather than bad, no?

#3  Wow, your Mother seems young to have Alzheimer’s.

This one also applies to anyone talking to someone who has a loved one with Alzheimer’s. This is not what we want to hear — ever.  No matter how genuinely supportive your intent, keep this comment to yourself.  When you have Alzheimer’s on the brain as much as most of us related to it do, we don’t want to think about the age of onset versus genetics piece of this frightening Alzheimer’s puzzle.

Trust me, this thought plays over and over in our head already and scares the heck out of us. It’s what bonds us Alzheimer’s kids while we’re there to visit as we exchange sad little half smiles with each other as part of our code.  We work hard to erase the thought — especially while we’re trying like hell to remember all those numeric security codes you make us remember to get through each door.  So we don’t need you to remind us.

Don’t get me wrong, the place where Little Red Riding Hood lives is wonderful and I feel very fortunate that she is safe and well cared for.  I have made many friends with the people who work at Mom’s place, many whose smiles warm my heart when they remember my name and  tell me stories about my sweet Mom.  Volunteering there each week has given me a new respect for people with enough compassion to serve this population with all their hearts.

This further supports my theory that these slips are most likely truly unintentional.

At any rate, it never hurts to be reminded of what not to say.

Your bra size, your sex life, and other things I don’t want to know about you just yet.

braTips for preventing over-sharing – Learned the awkward way.

It was our third night at an intimate guest ranch near Steamboat, during the last week of the season with only 15 guests.  Eight of us newly acquainted vacation friends who had shared a dinner table the night before were bonding over after-dinner cocktails.  Two or three drinks in, the old “let’s share something random about ourselves” game began, one by one, around the table.  (This always sounds like a good idea at the beginning.)

First up was Steve from Bermuda who follows and films whales for a hobby.  He leans down, rolls off a sock and lifts his foot. There it was: he had webbed feet. It seemed fitting since he was the one with a special fondness for aquatic life.

Next was Sue from Florida who shared her story about her psychic encounter, Mary from Denver who shared with us about her fear of touching ice, Katy from Texas with her memories of being at the resort on 9/11 and Tina originally from Montana who revealed that her husband once lived in an igloo.

Then Patty from California, after her describing her quite powerful executive job (just shy of showing us a pay stub), described a late night encounter she once had with a woman on a business trip. The night before we had learned her bra size. Suddenly it became so quiet that I noticed the sounds of country music and clanking dishes from the kitchen.

It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable our new friend’s lifestyle, as I have many friends of all persuasions whom I adore.  And it wasn’t that I was now able to visualize her 34G breasts all too clearly.  No, we simply learned too much, too soon.

One by one, each chair chirped against the wood floor as it backed from the table, as the group mustered artificial yawns and stretches and announced that we were calling it a night.   As George of Seinfeld would have explained it, our vacation friend world had now collided with the way, way too personal world.  And it was awkward.

The next morning I wondered if Patty realized how awkward the night before had become after her sharing moment.  I don’t think it crossed her mind.

So, to help those unfamiliar with sharing boundaries, here are some general topics to avoid with new acquaintances (no matter how good of an idea it seems at the time):

  • How much money you make.
  • Anything remotely sexual.
  • Your opinion on any isolating political topic.

Trust me, I’ve overshared more times than I’d like to admit, but as a general rule, I really don’t want to know how much money you make or the size of your jock strap until I’ve known you for at least six months.  And even then, I’m not sure how much I’d like to know.

 When was your last oversharing/too much information (TMI) experience?

Are you FOMOphobic?

fomoAre you thinking about what you might be missing out on while you’re reading this post?  If so, you may be suffering from the psychological affliction called FOMO, which stands for Fear of Missing Out.

Social media, which has enabled us to know things that we have no need or real desire to know … about every member of our entire social media network… at the exact minute it happens, 24/7  … is fueling this phenomenon at a frenetic pace.

A New York Times article found that we are virtually enabling this to happen by creating a ‘collective compulsion to document our lives and share them online combined with the instant gratification that comes from seeing something you are doing or experiencing get near-immediate approval from your online peers.”

One recent study revealed that 56% of adult social media users suffer from FOMO.  Another revealed that many social media users would rather have a root canal, spend a night in jail, or sit in traffic for four hours while listening to polka music than to give up their social media profile.

What’s more, a study conducted by British psychologist Andrew Przbylski looked at the connections between FOMO and social media and found that people who felt lower levels of autonomy, competence, and connectedness had more severe FOMO and used social media more.

Many believe this is hindering our ability to stay in the present and live fully in the now.  And it’s just getting started.

Don’t get me wrong, there are numerous positives of social media.  I myself like to know what’s going on in pop culture and social media is great for that.  I also like to share sayings and quotes and share an occasional photo. I also truly appreciate social media for helping me stay in touch with those I might not otherwise be able to stay in touch with.  And it’s good for business and for writers.  I get all that.

Yet each time I open Facebook, I have to weigh the odds of reading a post that makes me uneasy at the potential FOMOphobia it may be fueling against the odds of reading a  funny or thought-provoking quote or article posted by a friend.  Or of seeing a sweet post of a moment from a friend’s life.  Or of connecting with a family member. These are the aspects of social media that I love.

Often at social events I’m fascinated by the fact that when someone’s smartphone camera comes out and the word Facebook is mentioned, it’s like a drop of blood has hit the water and suddenly everyone around me has their smart phone out in a frenzy to capture a photo to post on social media to document their attendance.  At what point are we so worried about posting about all the great things that are happening to us that we actually are starting to become absent from our present lives?

Fortunately most of the time, the funny and  semi-personal connecting moments through social media outweigh the occasional quasi-narcissistic outbursts that I can only assume fuel the FOMOphobia epidemic.  Some days it’s a toss up.

But don’t you just have to wonder what will happen if the pace of  technology which is bringing us closer and closer to knowing way too much about each other’s activities at all times one day matches the pace of the rapidly spreading FOMOphobia epidemic?  Will the intersection of these trajectories cause us to combust?  Or to just reboot with the concept of living in the moment a thing of the past?

‘Ignorance is bliss’ never made more sense.

Related articles:

http://news.yahoo.com/social-media-addiction-based-fear-missing-143357943.html

http://www.livescience.com/31985-fear-missing-out-dissatisfaction.html

What do you hope someone knows? Tell them.

templife

This beautiful moon presented itself to me from my driveway last week.

MacGyver lost his dad a week ago very suddenly.  He was only 66 years old.  We are still processing the shock of it all and our hearts are swollen with sorrow.

One of my best friends lost her dad the very same week.  And I heard two stories just yesterday of people who lost their young fathers suddenly.

I lost my sister when she was 36, my mentor when he was only 57 and one of my best friends when she was only 32.

I’m always saying that life is short but even I often  lose sight of just how fleeting and temporary it can be. We’re so lucky to be here right now and to have those in our lives right now.

One of the blogs I follow had a post recently that stressed the importance of focusing on the wonderful in those in our lives and not missing chances to tell people about the things in them that we appreciate.

I think MacGyver knows how much I appreciate, adore and respect him because I tell him constantly.  But I hope he knows I mean it with every ounce of my heart.

I hope my kids know the unmeasurable amount of love I have for them and how very proud I am of the young men that they are, even though we frustrate each other so often.  And how my heart breaks for them when they struggle,

I hope my Dad knows how wicked smart I think he is and how much his drive and determination inspire me. And I hope he knows how much I appreciate all he has done for me and taught me and that I wish I still lived down the street. I hope my Stepmom knows how much I appreciate that she is in my life and how much she has taught me through her grace and loving heart.

I hope my Stepdad knows how much I love and appreciate him and the way he has stood by my Mom.  And I hope that my Mom knows, or knew when she could, how much I appreciate all the sacrifices she made for me, all the love that she gave me and all the things that she taught me which helped make me who I am.

I hope my friends know how much I appreciate them and their thoughtfulness, support and patience with me despite my myriad of idiosyncrasies.  How much I love to hear their voices or read texts or notes from them, and to learn from them and laugh with them until my face hurts.

I hope my oldest niece knows how much I treasure our relationship and that she realizes how wonderful I think she is.  I hope my nephews know how impressed I am with the young men they have become and how proud of them that I am.  And that my young nieces know how much I love them and look forward to watching them become young women.

I hope my cousins know how much I appreciate their efforts to stay connected and how happy I am to be part of their family tree.

I hope my Mother-in-law knows how much I appreciate how she raised such a wonderful man.  And that I appreciate her and love her.  And that my sister-in-law knows how much I love and care about her and wish we lived closer.

I know that my sister knows how much I miss her and keep her in my heart every day because I can feel her with me.  For that I am truly grateful.

And I hope that my father-in-law, who I called Big D, knew how much I loved and admired him.  How much I learned from him … not only about how to hang sheet rock or tile a bathroom at record speeds, but more importantly about keeping a positive mental attitude and always being willing to roll up his sleeves and give a helping hand to anyone who needed it.  I wish I had told him all that and more.  And I hope that he knew it in his heart.  I think he did.

What do you hope someone knows?  Tell them.

Can you spot a truly confident person?

This is a cactus-like weed I walked by in the park with my hot dogs. Unassuming and beautiful.

This is a cactus-like weed that I walked by in the park with my hot dogs. Beautifully unassuming.

I’ve always found that the easiest way to spot insecure people who lack confidence is to look for the ones in the room who are bragging the most and talking so much that others can’t get a word in edge-wise.

They feel the need to make sure that everyone knows how smart they are because I think they need reminding.  They want to be sure you know that they were really the ones who came up with just about every idea first.

And often when they ask you a question they start reminding you of  their expertise again before you can finish answering their question.  This can be exhausting or humorous (laughing on the inside kind of funny).  It depends on my mood.

Most of it comes down to listening which is a skill that I try to be mindful of and catch myself when I am talking more than listening.

I just read a great article on LinkedIn about the Nine Qualities of Truly Confident People.

These were my favorite points from the article:

-Truly confident people listen ten times more than they speak.

– Truly confident people don’t brag, instead usually they appear quiet and unassuming.  … ” They already know what they think; they want to know what you think.  They ask open-ended questions that give other people the freedom to be thoughtful and introspective: They ask what you do, how you do it, what you like about it, what you learned from it… and what they should do if they find themselves in a similar situation.” (best line of the article.)

-Truly confident people realize they know a lot, but they wish they knew more… and they know the only way to learn more is to listen more.

-Truly confident people can feel when the spotlight is starting to shine on them and they are able to adjust the spotlight so it shines on others, even if they did a lot of the work. They don’t need the glory because true validation comes from within.  And letting others feel the spotlight helps others build their own confidence. Which is a good thing if you’re already confident.

-Truly confident people own their mistakes and can admit when they are wrong.

-Truly confident people only seek approval from people who matter.  Another great line from the article: “You say you have 10k Twitter followers? Swell. 20k Facebook friends? Cool. A professional and social network of hundreds or even thousands? That’s great. But that also pales in comparison to earning the trust and respect of the few people in your life that truly matter.”

I remember insecure bullies at school when I was growing up.  They bragged, jumped up and down to get the spotlight, didn’t let others talk and were fine with making others feel less than.  They also weren’t my friends.  Unfortunately school age bullies often grow up to be adult bullies, but I try to avoid the breed as much as possible.

Truly confident people are beautiful people.

How confident are you?

Message in a Drip Beef Sandwich

diamond jack'sI knew I needed to cook that big hunk of meat in my fridge before more time had passed.  I had a crockpot recipe for drip beef sandwiches at the ready, but it suddenly looked too complicated.  Or I hadn’t had enough coffee yet.  Or it was simply because I am a lazy cook.

I also knew my sister’s birthday was coming up, but I hadn’t realized today was June 11th yet as I quickly googled “easy quick drip beef crockpot recipe.”

Very first result out of twelve million, four hundred thousand possibilities was  Diamond Jack’s Drip Roast Beef Sandwich recipe.  My eyes filled with bittersweet tears.  And I realized what day it was.

Diamond Jack’s was a restaurant that was in Tulsa, OK for 47 years and just closed a couple of years ago.

This restaurant, which began in the 1960s, was a special place that my sister absolutely loved to take me to for their Drip Roast Beef Sandwiches, which were awesome.

I remember how proud she was to take her little sister out to lunch and to introduce me to people who we ran into.  She was so glad that I was living back in town and she loved treating me to lunch now that I was officially an adult with a job and all.  It didn’t happen often, but when these lunches took place, they were certainly special.

I haven’t even thought about that restaurant or those specific sandwiches in more than ten years.

But today, the day my sister would have turned 50 years old,  the day my sister would have hosted one hell of a fun party …  my sister reminded me that she was here with me …through a Drip Beef Sandwich recipe.  I know it to be true.  And so does my heart.

Ingredients for Diamond Jack’s Crock-Pot Drip Beef:

  • 4-5 lbs boneless beef rump roast
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 (1 1/4 ounce) envelope dry onion soup mix
  • 1/2 teaspoon italian seasoning
  • 1 teaspoon beef bouillon, granules
  • 2 dashes worcestershire sauce
  • garlic salt
  • pepper

Preparation of Diamond Jack’s Crock-Pot Drip Beef:

  1. Cut the visible fat from the rump roast. Place the roast in a large crock pot.
  2. Combine the rest of the ingredients in a 2-cup measure and bring to boil a microwave.
  3. Pour over the roast in the crock pot. Add garlic salt and pepper to taste.
  4. Cook on low for 8 hours.
  5. Cool before slicing.
  6. Chill au jus to remove the fat.
  7. Combine the sliced meat and au jus and reheat before serving.
  8. May also be cooked in oven: combine as above in Dutch oven. Cook 4-5 hours at 275-300 degrees.

STOP. It’s all relative, my friends.

susieWhatever you’ve been griping about this morning (if you’ve griped about anything this morning or were getting ready to), stop and rethink.

Susie, a hilarious, inspiring and supportive  fellow blogger and author of Susie Lindau’s Wild Ride is undergoing a double mastectomy today, right now in fact.

You can follow The Boob Report here where she talks about “offing” her breasts, which she decided never really matched anyway.

Go Susie.  You are a badass in my book.

Ode to My Grandfathers

gdadBoth of my late grandfathers had May birthdays, and I am particularly fond of May birthdays, as some might know.

With one of these birthdays upon us today. I decided  to honor them both.

They were both kind, patient and good men, and parts of them make me who I am today.

And for that I am truly grateful.

 A Southern Gent

An inventive sort, this Southern gent.

Able to fix anything thrown his way.

An understated man, only said what he meant.

Quietly observing  the day.

…

Happy to let the spotlight shine,

On his wife, for a fuss he thought quite the bore.

Calming the waters throughout their life,

A loving man, with patience galore.

…

And a Northern Gent Wally

The grandfather I never knew,

Walked softly, kind and tall.

To his girls,  forever true,

His heartfelt words touched them all.

…

His love letters made his true love blush,

Funny, sentimental and smart,

He lives on in us,

His wit, all a part.

 

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the word Grandfather?

A Fairy Tale of Vintage Charm and Vintage Plumbing.

When the pipes on the other side had to be replaced.

Spring in Colorado may take a bit longer to arrive, but its perfection makes every extra day worth its weight in gold.  And working in the yard delightfully distracts me from all the other things I need to be doing.

Yesterday as I was clearing leftover leaves from my garden,  I came across a torn piece of paper towel in the mulch, which brought back vivid memories of a little old house with vintage charm that I once knew …fairytale

Once upon a time, long, long ago, when life was carefree and butterflies danced in the air to fairy tale music, MacGyver and Wry bought their very first little house.  They had a very little budget with MacGyver continuing his education and only Wry working, so they wanted a very little house that needed a very, very big  amount of work to be done so that they could get a very, very good buy.  After all, they were quite handy, and they had quite kind and generous, able-bodied and skilled parents to help with the fixing up.

house

This little old 1927 Tudor Revival style house was in a little old neighborhood called White City, named after a dairy farm with white buildings long ago.  It had been on the market  for months as its condition looked so rough that most sane buyers kept on driving once they saw it.

A little old widow had lived in the house who clearly wasn’t able to handle the upkeep.

But Wry asked MacGyver to turn the car around and take another look.  She saw past the overgrown yard, the leaning white picket fence (for after all, it had a picket fence), the old blinds falling apart in the windows (after all, the windows were perfectly shaped and had wooden panes).  She saw past the swamp cooler falling off the side of a rotted window (for the window was surround by beautiful ivy) and she even overlooked the leaning detached garage (since after all, it was a garage).

house sign

Wry knew this little old house could be something grand. And that “a good deal” could quite assuredly be had. It was destined to shine like the gem it once was.

Its bones were beautiful, with arches in almost every room and golden oak floors begging to be set free from the weight of their fifty-year old sweater of carpet.  But this little gem also had very old electrical wiring, very old fixtures and a funky old swamp cooler that Wry and MacGyer didn’t dare try to revive.

Its green, flat wool carpet with swirl designs also had holes that had been burnt in a circle in a spot in the living room where clearly the little old widow or her late husband had smoked carelessly in what was probably a little old chair.  But most importantly for this little tale, this little old house had very old plumbing.

flower

Naked Lady flower.

What the little old widow lacked in home maintenance skills, she made up for tenfold with her love and care of her flowers. The long and cracked driveway was flanked by a thick wall of pink Crepe Myrtles on one side and a flower bed the length of the whole little house on the other side.  The flower bed was brimming with peonies, luscious lilies, cheery patches of daisies, mounds and mounds of pink Sweet William, even some flowers called Naked Ladies and gorgeous roses of all variety.

Wry knew little of flowers and was thrilled that this garden that brought a smile to her face each time she drove up the long cracked driveway seemed to flourish all on its own.

She never thought about why the flowers did so well or just how fertile that ground must have been.  Until, that is, she began finding a little old scrap or two of paper near the beautiful rose bushes day after day.  And it seemed peculiar to her that they kept appearing right outside the window of the quaint little bathroom with little bitty, checkerboard black and white tiles that made her heart sing.

Fearing the worst, MacGyver asked Wry to go inside and flush the toilet (which was surrounded by the little black and white tiles that she loved to see).  He crawled under the little old house in the dingy, damp crawlspace and waited anxiously for the flush. Then a scream was heard and their fears were realized. MacGyver escaped the dark crawlspace unharmed, but quite wet and sad.

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A proud MacGyver moment.

MacGyver and Wry learned that the little old sewer pipes of this little old house were made of a fibrous material which a grand inventor thought a good idea at the time of their invention.  These pipes, called Orangeburg, were later found to completely disintegrate over time and their use was discontinued long before this fairy tale began.

So, the mystery of how all those little flowers grew so very well along the side of the little old house with the picket fence and wooden pane windows had been solved.  The soil was the richest in the land, indeed.

After much toil and trouble, the little old sewer line that ran from that cute little bathroom with the little bitty black and white tiles all the way under the long cracked driveway and past the pink Crepe Mrytles was anew.  Wry and MacGyver lived there happily ever after until years later when they outgrew their little old house.  By then the garage and picket fence stood proudly upright, the golden oak floors gleamed, and the little black and white tiles, even with a crack or two, remained perfectly in tact.

And the moral to the story?  Never underestimate the unpolished and the unrefined. It’s often worth a second look.  With a little love, a lot of labor, and a square or two of toilet paper, it just might bring you years of joy and little old memories.

The End.

Musings from Madrid.

IMG_0034After my last accidental photo post (mobile WordPress and I don’t get along so well), I thought I would report some observations from Madrid as I make my way back to the states.

Some highlights from an Americano after a full week in Madrid:

Sounds of motorcycles, mopeds, horns and sirens can actually be soothing if you give it a minute.

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7 out of 10 people on the streets seem to smoke, anywhere.

Scarves can make any outfit fashionable. Especially in Madrid. But then Madrilènes could make trash bag dresses look cool.

The architecture is magnificent, with myriad towering steeples, daunting domes and intricate corbels – everywhere..

The eating schedule is a challenge to get the hang of. However if you say ‘tapa,’ you can be fed any time.

Don’t even think about ordering a martini in Madrid, unless you’re at an Americanized hotel bar. And what’s the fun in that anyway.

Remixes of pop American music from the seventies and eighties streamed throughout retail stores and one taxi ride treated me with Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. I wondered if they had an American flag button on the dashboard and tapped it when they saw us coming.

Politely attempting to speak the native tongue often is rewarded with a gracious welcome. Calm politeness can get you far in any city.

Drinking, of beer and wine especially, takes place all day. Seems to be five o’clock all the time. In most places beer choices were ‘large or small’ rather than our overkill assortment of brewery concoctions.

Servers never walk away from your restaurant table with your credit card, instead bringing a device to the table, which makes much more sense when it comes to security.

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If you can figure out the metro (subway) on your own as I did, high-five yourself. It’s a maze down there that makes Manhattan subways look like a walk to your mailbox.

Beautiful iron balconies, balconies and more balconies everywhere you look.

Old Madrid is my favorite area, overflowing with rich history at every turn.

Every door I pass on the street in Old Madrid is a masterpiece in and of itself.

Everyone on the streets looks like they put some thought into what they are wearing — even the joggers.

Flamenco dancing. Now I totally get it. Sexy, emotional and heart pounding.  Parts made me cry.  Wow.

Bull fights. Couldn’t do it. I know its tradition, but the thought of watching eight bulls die brutally and some horses die as collateral damage for human entertainment weakened my knees and hurt my heart.

20130518-182658.jpgThe city is beautifully clean and lush.

Dog breeds of popular choice on the streets are Bulldogs and Yorkies.

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Ham (jambon) is to Madrid what pizza is to New York and hot dogs are to Chicago.

And there you have it, for now.

Ps: I’m announcing a caption writing contest for that last random photo post I did of a Ferrari in traffic in Madrid (contest jokingly suggested by one of my readers). Submit yours as a comment on that last post and the caption that makes me laugh the most wins an exciting prize, or at least gets a public pat on the back. Honorable mentions will be listed as well.

Many cooler pics to come. Madrid was a wonderful experience and opportunity.

Gracias.

It’s not personal. Four agreements to remember – which one is your favorite?

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This quote is from the author of a book I always keep somewhere where I can at least see the hint of the cover at least daily as a reminder.

Don Miguel Ruiz is the author of  The Four Agreements which describes four principles to practice in order to create love and happiness in your life, and free ourselves from the incredible amount of baggage we all carry around.  They sound simple, but they are harder to consistently live by than you might think.

The agreements are based on the Toltec wisdom tradition which originated in southern Mexico thousands of years ago. It is not considered a religion, but a philosophy accessible to anyone open to its insights.

In a nutshell:

1. Be Impeccable With Your Word
Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.  (Little Red Riding Hood always told me if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.)

2. Don’t Take Anything Personally
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.  (This one is the hard to remember, but one that I have implemented in various areas of past conflict or hangups in my life,and it has made my relationships so much richer.  This one is huge.)

3. Don’t Make Assumptions
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life. (Think how different the world would be if no one made assumptions. I need to work on this one.)

4. Always Do Your Best
Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.  (This one has come in very handy with my latest challenges with my Mom.  I have absolutely been doing my very best to ensure her well being and safety this last few years since her health has dramatically declined.  Thank goodness I can realize this without hesitation most days.)

My version of this , summarized:

1.  Keep my mouth shut if it’s not my business to tell or judge.

2. Most of the time, it’s not about me. Everyone has their own bag of issues.

3. Assumptions create problems, often where none exist.

4. My best is the best I can do.

Which agreement is your favorite?