Middle-Aged Diva

Boats on the water

2012-02-20T05:37:00.002-05:00

Red, White, Blue by Laurence Young

Colorful small boats like these sit waterside in Italian villages,
their colorful paint weather-faded. But still, they take people hither and yon.

They bring to mind rhythmic rocking, relaxation
and the peace of a simpler life.

We may not have a lovely painted boat to rock us into relaxation,
but we can take ourselves to that place in our minds any time we want.

I'm looking for new ways to instill that peaceful feeling.
Any suggestions?

Defining sisterhood

2012-02-19T05:38:00.003-05:00

Four Sisters by Rick Mobbs

I've been lucky to have shared my life
with many wonderful women
who have given me
warm sisterly energy.

I think women crave a bond with others
who accept and understand them
in ways only other women do.
Not all women, though,
so when you find it,
you're lucky.

Last month I spent a few days
with a group of sisters in another state.
We had a fabulous time.

Afterwards, I received an email from one of them
warmly welcoming me into their "circle of sisters."

It was such a lovely thought.
Lucky me!

Grief binds us together

2012-02-18T05:39:00.003-05:00

Grief by Andrassy Kirta, Janos

Standing alone in her grief
for as long as it takes to remember
it is also a thing
that binds us together
-Storypeople

A channeler once told me that one of my spirit guides is
a Native American woman, a healer, who told her that
I once had a time of deep sadness and grieving
and at night while I slept
she'd comb the tiny thorns of grief
out of my energy
piece by piece.

Grief feels so individual, personal and lonely
while you're going through it.

But if you share your grief with those who love you
--and I do mean "share" in the truest sense --
you get clearly that grief IS one of those universals that connect us.

Until you've had to mourn someone or something
and come out the other side of the darkness,
you remain innocent of its power and its universality.

After that, you become a fuller member of a huge club:
the human race.

What is it about coffee?

2012-02-17T05:30:00.002-05:00

I love to start my morning with a strong cup of coffee. To wrap my hands around the huge, warm mug, inhale coffee's rich aroma and watch a dollop of half and half spread through, lightening it and making it richer, more pleasing to my tongue. No sugar, though.

Caffeine doesn't give me a kick. That's why I've never understood why some religious sects forbid caffeinated drinks as too stimulating. {I wonder, do they prohibit chocolate candy bars, as well?}

Coffee's permeated our every day life (and budgets) in ways we could only have imagined years ago. Strikes me that if the only evidence was the lineup of customers at any Starbucks, you'd think our economy was in great shape. {Same goes for the hordes at any Apple store.}

In the very early 1990s I remember suggesting my stockbroker buy Starbucks stock for my portfolio and him saying "Who's going to pay $3 for a cup of coffee?"

Who, indeed?

Love me some Michelle Obama

2012-02-16T05:41:00.003-05:00

I'm certain Michelle Obama said no such thing, but I kind of wish she had:

My favorite thing about Mrs Obama was when she was asked if her skirt was not too tight and she answered, "Why? You don’t like my big black ass?”
-Karl Lagerfeld said in an interview.

Nahh. She didn't say it. Would never say it. But she's sure spirited enough to have thought it.

I love the First Lady better than any we've had in a long time. Smart, accomplished, gorgeous. Her own woman.

{I wish, though, she'd do something about those distracting eyebrows.}

Stephanie Nielson: & the greatest of these is love

2012-02-15T05:36:00.001-05:00

An incredible story of hope, triumph and everyday joy.

That's what it promises on the cover and it may be the first time I've found a book that completely lived up to its cover blurb.

If you read no other book this year, make this the one book you read from cover to cover.

Let me explain.

I don't know how I first came to Stephanie Nielson's well-known blog, The Nienie Dialogues, but I do know that it was after the small plane accident in which she and her husband suffered terrible burns and that took the life of their friend.

Stephanie was burned over 80 percent of her body. Her recovery has been long and hard in ways that the words "long" and "hard" can't begin to express. It has taken an immense amount of strength, courage and faith to go through hugely painful physical therapy and many, many hard surgeries. More than three years later, she's still not through with necessary surgeries.

The mother of four young children, she also faced significant psychological healing. Always a physically beautiful woman, she emerged from the accident looking quite different than before. Imagine what it was like for her young children to adjust to the fact that their mom looked like a stranger--and what it was like for her as a mom when, at the beginning, her kids found it hard to look at her.

So what got her through it? Faith. Love. Hope. Family. Community. Church.

I didn't plan to read this book. After all, I know her story. I read her blog every day. Did I really need to read the book? But in that weird way the Universe has of giving me exactly what I need when I need it, there was an advance reading copy of her book in a $1 bin at a San Francisco bookstore. I bought it and was riveted for hours. I didn't put the book down until I'd finished it.

It's a book that easily could've been sappy, but her ghost writer got the tone just right.

Stephanie's story really is incredible. Like the blurb says.

She's an inspiration, proof that the human spirit can be, in fact, indomitable. The book's also a commentary on the definition of true beauty. I'm sure some of you, like me, will read her story and think I'm not sure I could rise to the occasion like she did.

Sometimes, we get caught up in the drama of our lives, things that seem so huge, significant and insurmountable. Steph's book reminds us that some people face life circumstances much tougher than we could ever imagine.

It also reminds us of the power of love. Her huge, loving family played a significant role in her recovery. So did her faith.

Oh, did I say that I happened to meet Stephanie last summer at BlogHer '11? She's got an amazing hug and just reeks of kindness. Seriously. Reeks of it. Loving kindness.

One more thing. She's expecting her fifth baby. A girl.

The book's out on April 3. Do yourself a favor and buy it. I promise you'll look at your own life differently.

Gum drop heart

2012-02-14T05:35:00.001-05:00

I love the idea of an open heart being sweet....
with a soft chewy center.
Like a gum drop.

Nothing more wonderful than coming across a soft, open heart.
Like my husband's.
I appreciate him every day.
♥
Happy Valentine's Day to you all.

And if you've just had it with all the mush,
just click HERE on my post from last year
for the best Valentine ever.

Give yourself what you need

2012-02-13T05:30:00.001-05:00

Yes, it's that time again. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day
and for some, it's not a day full of hearts and flowers.

Maybe you don't have a lover at the moment.

That doesn't preclude your enjoying the day.

Draw yourself a hot bath with scented oil and bubbles, step in and enjoy the relaxation.

Do some inspirational reading.

Get together with friends.

Closure doesn't always make a perfect circle

2012-02-12T04:00:00.001-05:00

There's a lot of talk these days about closure. It implies that we've reached a deeper understanding of something in our lives and that we can now put it to rest with a sense of peace.

Uh, maybe that's not what it means after all.

Sometimes closure comes differently than you expected. Sometimes it's an acceptance of a terrible situation that you can't change, as much as you'd like to.

That the unthinkable is, in fact, thinkable and even true.

Closure doesn't always bring with it warm thoughts and peace. Some hard truths are not all that comforting.

An ex once said to me "You think you can make anything happen just by force of will." I did think that, once. But not now.

I don't know about "never," but I have learned recently that closure doesn't always make a circle, and it's a daunting thought.

Whitney Houston went home tonight

2012-02-11T21:02:00.010-05:00

Rest in peace, Whitney,
and may your next life be drug-free and beautiful.
-post on an entertainment blog

We've lost another incredible talent when the Lord called Whitney Houston home today. Truth is, we didn't lose her today. We lost her a long time ago, to the irresistible siren song of drugs.

There's a lot of TV blah-blah-blah going on right now and only snippets of information coming out. But whether she died of an overdose or suicide, "natural causes" or something else, it's a good bet that drugs were involved. In one way or another.

She was beat, that much was obvious from news coverage and photos in recent years. Beat and tired. Weak and worn. Because that's what addiction did to her.

I didn't always understand the powerful hold drugs can have. But over the past decade, I've made it a point to learn, and grew in respect for those who have worked hard to manage their addiction and lead functional lives.

Despite her gifts, Whitney just couldn't get there and the world's a greyer place without the light of her beautiful voice.

I love the sentiment I reposted, above. Yes: may her next life be drug-free and beautiful.

Elvis Presley/Precious Lord Take My Hand video

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on,
Let me stand
I'm tired, I am weak I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear precious Lord linger near
When my life is almost gone
Hear my cry,
Hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet,
Hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on,
Let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

Going to hell in a handbasket*

2012-02-11T04:00:00.001-05:00

Six-year old, tarted up for fashion show in NYC
during which she slapped her butt & wriggled suggestively

I saw this day coming.

The day in which three-year-olds compete in beauty pageants wearing heavy eye-makeup, false lashes and dressed as the main character in the movie, Pretty Woman. Who is a prostitute.

The day in which a big-assed young woman pimped out by her manager-mother became an icon to young girls and became very rich off a TV show she got after her sex tape went public. Yes, her sex tape.

Way back in the 80s, yes, that long ago, I'd look at MTV video stars in their provocative, scanty lingerie and wonder, "if this is what kids are exposed to every day, what will they consider sexy and arousing when they're adults?"

And what of the millions of young kids who would see so much lingerie on TV they would become inured to it? Yes, what kind of off-beat fetish would it take to get them off as adults if black hose, garter belts and lacy g-strings were every-day attire for entertainment stars?

Oh wait, fetish attire is now an every-day thing, too:

Singer Christina Aguilera

I am not a prude. In fact, I'm the furthest thing from a prude. But fetish wear belongs in the bedroom. Of adults.

Rose McGowan, 1998 MTV awards and really not at all flattering.
Besides leaving nothing to the imagination.

Really, this does smack of the Fall of the Empire.

Cher's Turn Back Time video was banned from MTV in the 1980s because of this provocative outfit. It was the last gasp of good sense. {It strikes me that one hair of wiry stubble could be disastrous to this get-up. "Get-up." Geez, I sound like a Midwestern matron.}

Of course, she's still dressing like this, in her late 60s. And outfits like this are considered tame in today's music industry.

Oh, here's something I didn't see coming. Crotchless panties sized for a seven-year-old in a teens and kids' clothing store.

I know, this is a whole melange of craziness.

But bottom line: Enough is enough. Here's what I think:

When toddlers are doing stripper moves for a pageant, something's seriously wrong.
Crotchless panties do not belong in a Kids 'n' Teens store.
Grown women should leave a little something to the imagination, even those with bodies to die for.
And we should not be surprised when we hear that younger and younger men are suffering bedroom dysfunctions. Because that can only be next.

*Going to hell in a handbasket

The thing about modern art

2012-02-10T04:00:00.001-05:00

This puts in perspective any time I've had that though
after looking at modern art.

How about you?

Let today be a new day

2012-02-09T04:41:00.001-05:00

Here's the great thing about life:
At any given moment, we can change how we feel.

Sure, there have been times in my life
when I've let circumstances
buffet me around a bit.

Once I realized that I didn't have to be at the mercy of life
-- that I could choose my feelings --
well, let's just say it was an epiphany.

If you're struggling with something,
recast it as yesterday's problem.
Feeling awful about something?
Make them yesterday's feelings.

Let today be a new day.

Every moment in Tampa counted

2012-02-08T05:09:00.003-05:00

The winter air is soft in west-central Florida, soft and just a little humid. Walking through the warm jetway heading toward the terminal, I felt the start of a warm caress. Already.

On the road a few minutes later I realized that every block in this town holds a memory. That qualifies it as a place I call home, even if it's my second home. I have a love affair with California, but Tampa? It feels like a best friend whose nooks and crannies are familiar and comforting. A lap.

All the familiar landmarks tugged at my heart; despite my protestations, I was happy here. There was the college at which I taught writing, its minarets glinting in the sunset. The malls --two of them, conveniently located almost next door. And my grocery store and nail salon. The house I sold two years ago, still there, looking the same. The park where Riley and I walked when he was a tiny three-pound puppy. His vet and his day care. Oh--there's the corner where I had a bad car accident--hit and run--my very first months when, shaking with adrenaline and relief, I knew no one and had no one to call. Things are different now. The memories, though, remain.

My first night was celebratory: my Tampa nephew's annual birthday dinner in Ybor City, something I haven't missed in a very long time--maybe 15 years. And even though I live in California, I still don't miss the occasion because I time my annual visits around it. In fact, it's the main reason I come every year. And, he returns the favor. For his big birthday and Christmas gifts, M. and I always give him a trip to visit California for MY birthday. Only fair, you know. My Tampa nephew isn't related by blood, but he might as well be, he's that dear to me. So many laughs as we removed our chopsticks and dug into the biggest plate of sushi, ever. And Chinese for dinner together later that week.

The next day, lunch with an old friend, my first Tampa friend, in fact, and someone whose friendship I treasure. I distinctly remember meeting her in 1996 at the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, where I was networking for my very new job. Despite being considered a "southern" town, Tampa's not as friendly toward newcomers as you'd expect, and I had to work hard to make connections. S. and I hit it off immediately. We only see each other once a year now, but we remain deeply connected in many ways and especially as we talk about our families. The new Dali museum is completed, she told me over our lunch. It made me smile.

Speaking of jobs, I worked on the 27th floor of this building for 13 years. My commute really was only four miles with no traffic to speak of and that gorgeous view. I loved that job for a very long time, until I didn't. I thought it would be hard to leave, but it was as easy as walking out the door and into my wonderful future. Fortunately, I carried with me existing relationships with clients and coworkers that had become friends and I saw some of them while I was in Florida.

Change. As much as we all hate it, it's the nature of things. I know there are not a lot of job options in many cities, but if you're in a toxic work environment, it's well worth the time and effort --and even the risk -- of change. Life is short.

But here was a pleasure: the drive to work. If you have to commute, this is the way to do it. I drove along this four-mile stretch of waterfront to my job in Tampa (and lived just two blocks from it) and whenI sawit again, on a glorious winter day with the sun glinting off the water, I wondered if I took it for granted.

It was Gasparilla time in Tampa, and that's a pirate ship, anchored and waiting for the next weekend's festivities. Gasparilla is like aMardi Gras, complete with parades, drunken revelry and funnel cakes. When I think of Gasparilla, though, (and when I mention it to my friends who also live in South Tampa near the parade route) the response is usually rolled eyes and "Let's make sure we get the hell out of here before it starts." And such was the case this weekend, when J. and I hightailed it out of the area for our day of play.

As I looked out over the water off Bayshore Blvd. I realized that this was the last view my friend D. had before she died last month. The friend who was with her at the end said that one of her last comments as she looked out at the water and skyline was about the beauty of this community. And she was right. I couldn't help but think of her as I looked around this lovely Florida city.

Make every moment count, I reminded myself.

And I did.

In one of the best places I've ever lived.

Oh, did I tell you I got sick the first day and was sick the whole time? Despite some necessary schedule changes, I still had a great time.

Fewer books

2012-02-07T05:00:00.001-05:00

Barnes & Noble, Tampa

I must admit to a sense of relief when I walk into a large bookstore, relief that some bookstores still exist.

Some don't. Until last year, there was a Borders bookstore next to this Barnes & Noble in Tampa. Gone.

Look carefully at the photo above from the Biography/Memoir section of Barnes & Noble. Does it look any different to you? It does to me.

In the past, shelves would be crowded with books, side by side by side. We'd never see the wood background to the shelf. Today, the shelves look sparsely populated.

And there used to be so many books they'd reach right to the edge of the shelf. Today, only a few copies of each title.

I do love my first generation Kindle. It's a great way to read, as long as there are no illustrations or photos. But there's nothing like seeing a beautifully designed book cover and being able to flip the pages and browse for a few minutes. Nothing like looking at an array of books on a series of bookshelves and choosing those that strike your fancy.

{Worried face.}

And now, more rumors that Amazon will open stores. Now that their business model has destroyed so many independents and even a big chain, they're going to open their own stores?

In general, I'm a fan of change. But some change is hard to swallow.

Not all who wander are lost

2012-02-06T05:25:00.000-05:00

Maybe I was born restless or maybe even defiant. But I knew early that I didn't belong where I came from ...and I certainly didn't hew to the party line.

I had the wanderlust and wander, I did, across these big United States time and time again, up and down the California coast (never further south than the top part of the central coast or further north than the San Francisco Bay peninsula).

I wandered through relationships, too, finding it hard o settle into one for the long term. Forever just wasn't in my lexicon for the longest time.

As with anything, there were costs and benefits. Sometimes I'd look with longing at people who had rooted somewhere, become a full member of a community, of their family.

But I couldn't do it.

I like lots of stimulation, to see and experience different things all the time. Set too long in one place, I stagnate. So when I lived in both Florida and California, traveling between my two homes, it was a satisfying lifestyle. Multiple relationships aren't for everyone, but they worked for me, while I waited to meet the person I'd want to stick to like glue.

It's not how my family chose to live. They rooted, and as a result, I have always been the odd one out. The one others looked at askance because they simply couldn't understand my need to be in transit, in or out of a place. Or a relationship.

Some of them saw me as a little lost. But I was never lost. This was just my path.

We're all given personas within our families and mine was more black sheep than white. I didn't see it that way, but still, it was hard to avoid letting others' view color how I thought of myself, at least a little.

Even though I couldn't be any other way, sometimes, I couldn't help but think that I might be just a little too different.

Now, in our later years and to my great shock, it turns out that I might be the normal one, after all.

I lived my life along the way, working out my issues as I went. But some of my family weren't so lucky.

Normal.

I don't even like the way it sounds.

And yet, in the end, comparatively speaking, I am.

It's going to take some getting used to.

The Four Agreements

2012-02-05T04:21:00.002-05:00

The Four Agreements are as good a road map for life as anything.

I like that the author calls them a guide to personal freedom.

Would you add anything to his list?

The Four Agreements

Be impeccable with your word.
Don't take anything personally.
Don't make assumptions.
Always do your best.

The way it is with dreams

2012-02-04T04:44:00.000-05:00

Journal cover.

A young man gave the journal to me a year or more ago and the thoughts
on its cover inspire me still.

Love the idea of a smiling stray dream
wagging its tail at my door.

Have you had one? Tell us.

Glad to be home in our bed of California stars

2012-02-03T05:00:00.000-05:00

Billy Bragg and Wilco put these Woody Guthrie lyrics to music and then performed the song. It's just beautiful. California Stars:

video

CALIFORNIA STARS
I'd like to rest my heavy head tonight
On a bed of California stars
I'd like to lay my weary bones tonight
On a bed of California stars

I'd love to feel
Your hand touching mine
And tell me why
I must keep working on

Yes I'd give my life
To lay my head tonight on a bed
Of California stars

I'd like to dream
My troubles all away
On a bed of California stars

Jump up from my starbed
Make another day
Underneath my California stars
They hang like grapes
On vines that shine
And warm the lovers' glass
Like friendly wine

So I'd give this world
Just to dream a dream with you
On our bed of California stars

I'd like to rest my heavy head tonight
On a bed of California stars
I'd like to lay my weary bones tonight
On a bed of California stars

I'd love to feel
Your hand touching mine
And tell me why
I must keep working on

Yes I'd give my life
To lay my head tonight on a bed
Of California stars

I'd like to dream
My troubles all away
On a bed of California stars

Jump up from my starbed
Make another day
Underneath my California stars

They hang like grapes
On vines that shine
And warm the lovers' glass
Like friendly wine

So I'd give this world
Just to dream a dream with you
On our bed of California stars

So I'd give this world
Just to dream a dream with you
On our bed of California stars

(Dream a dream with you)

The heebie-jeebies

2012-02-02T05:00:00.000-05:00

This card made me laugh.
Maybe it'll make you laugh, too.

Truth is easy

2012-02-01T05:06:00.000-05:00

It does not require many words
to speak the truth.
Chief Joseph Nez Pierce 1840-1904

You'd think the truth would be easy to speak
but for some reason, it isn't always.

And that's the root of many life problems.

Speaking truth is one of the most important ways
we honor others...
and more importantly,
ourselves.

To all the cats I've known and loved

2012-01-31T05:18:00.003-05:00

Bonnie Fields

"Did you ever have a cat?" my neighbor asked, the other day. It's interesting how people give others shape and form by what they know of them. It's hard for people I know now to fathom a time when I wasn't a dog person. And yet...

I love cats and had them nonstop from 1973 until 2007 and among my longest-time friends, I was always considered a cat person. When you have a time-consuming career and busy life, it's hard to take proper care of dog. But cats? They're independent. Loving, but independent. Sort of like me. ✿

So to all the cats I've known and loved: I remember you with ♥ and great joy

Sasha (M & my first cat in 1973)
Beeboo (who lived 'til she was 21 and moved with me to Calif.)
Julie
Ricky Raccoon
Smokey
Cecily
Tyler (my sweet last cat, who crossed the Rainbow bridge in 2007, just before I got Riley)
and Gigi, the sweet cat M. brought to our household and who now lives with a little girl of her own in Los Altos

Make an island vacation for yourself today

2012-01-30T05:09:00.000-05:00

Curly Girl Designs

During 2011, I over-scheduled.
It's something I do
and then, almost always,
regret.
Because I love my down time.

While it's true that every moment counts,
that doesn't mean we need to fill them all up to the brim
with activity.

I like the idea of taking an island vacation
every week or two.
Yes, even in winter.

And without going anywhere.

A day when I lounge around at home
wearing something loose & casual
with a beachy book in hand,
a light, frothy drink with an umbrella
& (with closed eyes) the thought of sunglasses, bright sun
and warm sand underfoot.

The great thing about it
is that I can do this
any time I like.

And best of all:
it's free.

Try it, yourself!

Forgive

2012-01-29T04:02:00.000-05:00

I forgive everyone in my life
and release them with love.
They are free and I am free.
~Louise Hay

It's a sad fact, but true nonetheless,
that there are people in this world
who treat us poorly.
It's a good idea to forgive and release them.

To do otherwise (or to do nothing)
is to allow toxicity to color our lives.

Smile

2012-01-28T04:18:00.001-05:00

One of the best things about being in Tampa this week
is how people on the street smile and greet me.
People I don't know.
It doesn't happen that often in the San Francisco Bay area.

The simple gift of a smile and a "hello" can make someone's day.

Beautiful Tarpon Springs on a beautiful winter day

2012-01-27T14:51:00.007-05:00

Earlier this week I had lunch with a friend on the water in the beautiful fishing village of Tarpon Springs, Fla. Its known for sponge fishing, which seems to be done solely by bronzed Greek men wearing anachronistic diving suits. You can just make out the suit--barely--on the fisherman above. These boats load up with tourists for a short jaunt into the bay, where fishermen wow the crowd with their diving prowess. Definitely worth a visit if you're in the Tampa Bay area.

As you can see, it was a beautiful day to have lunch on the patio of Dmitri's. Just lovely. It's been wonderful to connect with my Florida friends again and to visit many of my favorite spots on this, my second annual visit to my second home. (P.S. I had souvlaki, one of my favorite Greek dishes. And some of that fabulous lemony soup. I do have Greek heritage, by the way.)

Today is yesterday's "some day"

2012-01-27T04:09:00.000-05:00

Curly Girl Designs

We act as if our time is limitless,
but really, it's not.
That's something we begin to grasp as we age.

We're already on the journey
and today is a yesterday's some day.

Let's make the most of it.

If changes are needed to improve our quality of life,
this is the time to make them.

Otherwise, it can be a hard lesson.

The end is not really the end

2012-01-26T00:15:00.000-05:00

It's a concept that's hard to grasp,
this "the end isn't really the end but the beginning" thing.

What I think it means is this:

Sometimes, something must go
in order to build something more beautiful.

That we have the opportunity to learn
from the first go-around.

That if we take that opportunity
and actually do learn,
we can replace it with something even better.

It could be an improved version of the same thing.
Or something brand new.
Better.

But, hey:
it's not a guarantee.
It's not magic.
It takes some effort. Some work.

Otherwise?
Same thing, different day.

Oh, and God blogged about this, too:

When the world shows up, hang on to it!

2012-01-25T00:01:00.000-05:00

In my dream,
the angel shrugged
and said,
if we fail this time
it will be a failure of imagination
and then she placed the world
gently in the palm of my hand.
~Storypeople

The world appears in the palm of our hands
more often than we might realize.
Most of the time, we're just not paying attention
when it shows up.

Or, even if we do notice,
we just can't seem to get there from here.
We'd rather struggle.
That's a more familiar feeling and
there's comfort in familiarity.

A shame, really, to waste our world.
So if it shows up, hang on to it with all your might.
Fight for it, if you must.

It's worth it.

Season life with a little mischief

2012-01-24T03:52:00.000-05:00

I remember* a day, decades ago, when late one night
(long before the necessary paranoia that defines"security" today)
after an evening out and a few cocktails
M, a couple of friends and I somehow got into the office of the Governor of Florida.

Yep. Right into his office.
And into his chair.

It was mischief,
accompanied by artificially furtive behavior
and peals of laughter.

We did no harm. And we left before security arrived.
Ok, truth is we narrowly escaped
being caught by security.
But oh, what fun it was!

I don't recommend trying that today.

But I highly recommend seasoning life this year
with a little harmless mischief.

Got any suggestions, or a mischief story of your own?
*M doesn't remember it. But I do.

Step into a painting

2012-01-23T08:24:00.001-05:00

Serenity II by Sherree Valentine Daines

It's culture day here at the Diva's place. Art. That's right. Art. Paintings. A little "cultcha."

Step right into these scenes with me, will you? The artist is Sherree Valentine Daines.

Sea Breeze

Daines is Britain's leading figurative artist and this painting's a beautiful example of modern British impressionism.

These little girls look like they haven't a care in the world. They're in the moment, enjoying their explorations in the sea breeze. I can feel the water on their feet and the gusts of soft wind that push at their dresses. The innocent curiosity of childhood so beautifully depicted.

Carefree Times

A lazy Sunday afternoon. The air is completely still and there's nothing on the schedule but some coffee, wine and relaxing in the sunshine with the newspaper and the dog. I can't envision this guy having any job at all; he looks like he's to the manor born. Don't you love his hat? She looks like she might be waiting patiently for him to finish so they can go back to bed. You can't tell me that's not a nightgown. The dog's perfectly rendered. I can hear him pant.

Up top, Serenity II -- my favorite.

Some art just speaks to you, doesn't it? Daines' work does that for me. I love her take on modern impressionism, its dreamy quality that allows viewers to fill in the details themselves. I could stare at these paintings forever. In fact, I have.

Here are a few more:

Lazy Days

A Treasured Gift

How about you? Do have have a favorite painting? a favorite style of art? What do you think of these?

Eastward bound!

2012-01-21T21:38:00.003-05:00

It's that time again. To Florida I go
for my annual, week-long visit with my girls.
Yes, girls.

Oh, of course they are women.
But I like us best when we are doing girly things.
Nails.
Shopping.
Tea.
Gossip (benign, of course).
And laughing.
Sometimes giddily.

So, yes, girls.
No faux sophistication, here.
Love my girls & can't wait to see them.

Then, two more stops, these in the Northeast.
More girls.

Off in the predawn hours.
Catch you from the east coast!

The quiet of pre-dawn

2012-01-21T09:58:00.001-05:00

I've always loved the quiet hours before dawn,
when the entire world is still sleeping.

Except for me.

The houses around me are dark.
Not a sound outside: no traffic, not even birds.
Even Riley's snug in his bed.

Life is in repose.

Wrapped in a thick robe, I'm cozy in my house.
One lamp lights the room and a lit candle
sends out the scent of fresh-cut apples.

A good time to read. Write. Or just sit.

☀

Then, slowly, as the sun comes up,
the world comes to life.
The slap of newspaper deliveries hitting pavement.
The beep-beep of car remotes unlocking.
Garage doors open and ignitions start.

The click of the coffeemaker marks the start of my day.

The world catching up with me is almost a disappointment;
I'm sorry to lose the peace and quiet.

But then, I remember: dawn will come again tomorrow.

Updated West Side Story reflects our loss of innocence

2012-01-20T11:27:00.034-05:00

West Side Story (1961) was one of the first 'adult' movies I ever saw. Inspired by Romeo and Juliet but set in mid 1950s New York City, it's a dark, sad story of young lovers doomed by gang rivalries.

First performed on Broadway in 1957, it was famed lyricist Stephen Sondheim's Broadway debut and one of the gems in Leonard Bernstein's well-deserved crown. Who hasn't felt the joy of being with their beloved, so beautifully portrayed by the song, Tonight? ♥ Or prepared for a date with the giddy excitement of Maria as she sings I Feel Pretty. Or even felt the heartbreak of a love they can't have, as in Somewhere. Universals in the hands of Sondheim and Bernstein? Exquisite.

With all that talent plus modern (for that time) choreography by Jerome Robbins, it really was a powerhouse production. The movie didn't disappoint, either, with a young Natalie Wood, hot and sexy Rita Moreno and George Chakiris. And great dancing, especially by Russ Tamblyn. They weren't the greatest voices of the time, but their performances were sweet and just right for the era.

So when the Broadway touring company came to San Jose, I looked forward to seeing the production.

West Side Story has always held a kind of innocence for me, even though the story pivots on gang rivalry. NYC gangs at that time weren't tame, but they weren't as sinister as gangs today.

Gangs in the 50s weren't innocent by any means, but they "rumbled " more than they killed. Their rites of passage didn't involve taking lives, then getting teardrop tattoos to commemorate the murder. They had knives and handguns, not assault rifles. It seems strange to call gang wars back then more wholesome but compared to today, they certainly seem tamer. Things are different today, and as expected, that contrast was sharply brought home in the story. I couldn't help but grieve for that lost time when life wasn't so extreme.

I believe a play should be performed as originally intended, unless it's completely restaged Shakespeare in modern dress or something like that. You can't update a play effectively if you're just changing snippets. It's hard to keep the mood and flow of the original. You're either all in or not, or so it seems to me. It takes a deft hand to only partially update a play.

That deft hand was missing the other night. While we can't expect that a more than 50-year-old play wouldn't be updated at all, I thought some of the updates in the touring production of West Side Story detracted from the story's cohesion.

From Row 21 (we got our tickets late), it was hard to differentiate between the Sharks and the Jets. Better costuming would have helped tremendously.

I didn't much like that some dialogue and songs were updated and performed Spanish to "reflect how the characters would have spoken in their own homes." Too much. It felt like a nod to political correctness that distracted from the story. Getting the "intent" of the song or the dialogue wasn't enough. It isn't opera, after all.

The production was much edgier, even racier, than the original, especially the dance sequences. Some of it was riveting. But some of the "updates" to the ensemble choreography seemed cheap and gratuitous. For example, I was jarred when dancers came to a momentary stop while the dancer at center stage--the audience's focal point-- turned his back to the audience to spread his jeans-clad buttocks at the audience. What the hell was that? I thought. Worse, the audience laughed with appreciation. Maybe of his firm butt? I don't know.

It was jarring to see that even our most revered plays have been rewritten to pander to the lowest common denominator. I expected a huge penis coming at me from the screen in Harold and Kumar's sophomoric 3D Christmas movie. Or at least I wasn't surprised. But spreading one's butt cheeks to the West Side Story audience? It was unnecessary. I mean, I love a firm butt as much as the next girl, but it's all about context.

Still, it was wonderful to reacquaint myself with the characters, the music and the movement. Take a moment and lose yourself in some of the most romantic songs ever written.

Here's a beautiful duet of Somewhere from Glee

Here's Russ Tamblyn as Tony and Natalie Wood as Maria, singing Tonight. From the film.

The conundrum of reconciliation

2012-01-20T02:01:00.000-05:00

We are all, by nature, clearly oriented
toward the basic human values of love & compassion.

We all prefer the love of others to their hatred.
We all prefer others' generosity to meanness.

And who is there among us who does not prefer
tolerance, respect & forgiveness of our failings
to bigotry, disrespect and resentment?
-Dalai Lama

If this is the case, and I believe it is,
then why is it so difficult sometimes
to reach across the chasms that separate us?

What is the cost of taking the risk?
of reaching across the unknown
to try to bridge the gap?

Furkins: a step up from vajazzling

2012-01-19T09:17:00.002-05:00

If you've been reading Diva more than a year, I'm sure you remember my post on vajazzling. It was a popular post. A bit more popular than the one on National Masturbation Month. But not as popular as the one on huge fake hooters; that one got a ton of traffic, especially from the Middle East.

Today, though, I bring you another post that's destined for greatness, a post all about the perfect accessory for a waxed, lasered or shaved pudenda: fur and feather merkins. This product offering is courtesy of former Real Housewife of NYC Cindy Barshop, who invented them and sells them in her waxing salon. Around $200, more or less, depending on the version. What do you think?

Merkin. Such an obscure word. I have no earthly idea where I first heard it, but I've known this word for a damn long time. Never heard it? Look it up HERE.

There's all sorts of crazy PETA talk out there about these adorable puffs being made out of fox fur. In fact, Gawker's calling them furkins. (Love it) But they sure look like feathers to me.

I haven't been able to find a full frontal photo that shows how they are affixed further down below, sorry. But I'd sure like to see the entire design.

Cindy, who also is credited with originating the vajazzle trend, has really hit the right mark with this line of merkins. They're soft and puffy, so they won't rip dainty lingerie like fake gemstones, and I think they're kind of cute. Apparently they can get wet, too. But you're not supposed to scrub them. This raises a few key questions, but I'll leave those for now.

And with Mardi Gras coming up, the gay community--always on trend-- can't be far behind. The reason I know this is that in 1990 I went to Mardi Gras for 10 days with 8 gay men. {Our group was so well-connected in the leather community that we got coveted tickets to the Lords of Leather Ball.... where we ran into two friends with their adorable boy-slave. Not a real boy, of course. Oh, so many stories.} Needless to say I came home much better educated on so many things. So, I predict we'll see furkins in the New Orleans Gay Quarter this Mardi Gras.

Yes, yes, it's definitely the fall of the empire.

Self-validating builds self-esteem

2012-01-18T07:38:00.004-05:00

Who validates you as good enough? Who stamps your card?
How do you know you are ok?

When we're children, we look to our parents for that stamp that says we're worthy.
As teens, we look to our friends, our peers.

If we mature in a healthy way, we grow in confidence over the years, appreciate our individuality and learn to validate ourselves.

Some of us over-relate to a job and count on it to give us our self-worth. It's not unusual for women to look toward a relationship for validation, as in if we're attractive to a partner, then that makes us ok. Lovable. Worthy.

The quest for external validation can be a trap if it keeps us involved in jobs or relationships that don't give us what we really want. Regardless of our rationales (and the smarter we are, the better the rationales) maybe the truth is we don't feel worthy enough.

Maybe 2012 should be the year we learn that we can validate ourselves. That we really are good enough, just as we are.

And that the most important stamp on our card is the one we place ourselves.

There is a winner

2012-01-17T08:24:00.005-05:00

The winner of The Diva Doctrine by Patricia V. Davis is....Ally!

Thanks so much for entering--Patricia and I were inspired by the wisdom you posted. Every entry was serious food for thought.

If only we knew then what we knew now, right? But then we wouldn't have the pleasure of learning it for ourselves.

Thanks again--and if you didn't win, you might considering picking the book up anyway. Definitely worth the read.

The strength of love

2012-01-17T08:06:00.004-05:00

Curly Girl Designs

I have seen some extraordinary examples of love in recent years.

When we think we can't do it, love gives us the strength.

Having felt the power of love myself,
I know
that it's a wondrous thing.

Dr. MLK and love

2012-01-16T10:16:00.014-05:00

I have decided to stick with love.
Hate is too great a burden to bear.
-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

For those of you too young to remember,
this is the way it was
in the 1960s South.
Law enforcement set dogs on protesters.
Civil rights workers were murdered.

Makes a little pepper spray look tame in comparison.

But it does point out that some things haven't changed enough.

But here's my real point:
We should never forget how black people
were treated back in the day.

How hard
the battle for civil rights --civil disobedience--was.
How brave our black and white brothers and sisters
who fought the battle were.

And how despite the vitriol aimed at him and others,
Dr. King stood for love.

This is why Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is important enough
to have a day of remembrance.

But really, this photo is what we should remember.

Honor & trust

2012-01-16T00:04:00.000-05:00

Kelly Rae Roberts

I ran across something I'd written a while back,
something about the trust I was feeling in particular situation.
Of course, as life sometimes turns out, my trust at the time was misplaced.

Reading this piece so many years later
made me think about the nature of trust.

Trust means having complete faith in a person or situation.
In their integrity.

We have to choose whom we trust wisely, though.

The late Suze Rotolo wrote an excellent memoir* about Bob Dylan,
her lover for four years.
Here's what she said about him in a 1964 journal entry:

I believe in his genius, he is an extraordinary writer
but I don't think of him as an honorable person.
He doesn't necessarily do the right thing.
But where is it written that this must be so
in order to do great work in the world?

Perhaps it isn't required to do great work.
But being honorable is one of the traits that makes a person trustworthy.

{She implies that it was one of the dealbreakers in their relationship.}

We'd be well-served by picking and choosing with care those
in whom we place our trust.

*A Freewheelin' Time, a Memoir of Greenwich Village in the Sixties by Suze Rotolo. Sadly, she died in 2011.

Create more bliss

2012-01-15T09:58:00.001-05:00

Ecstasy is one of its definitions, but that's not how I think of it.
Ecstasy seems wilder than bliss.

Bliss seems blended with contentment.
It's calm. Peaceful.
A peaceful euphoria.
When all's right with my world, I'm on top of it.
Blissful.

Here's a worthy goal:
Create more bliss
for myself and others.

Being unique

2012-01-14T07:38:00.000-05:00

Always remember that you are absolutely unique.
Just like everyone else.
Margaret Mead

Love this pointed reminder to find the individual beauty in others.

She danced on this earth

2012-01-13T09:44:00.008-05:00

Last weekend I went for a walk in a beautiful park with a longtime friend who has faced major health challenges in recent years. She told me she'd given some advice to another friend facing a similar challenge: "Make every day count." As we walked past a small stream, we talked about how important living our best lives was.

That conversation stuck with me for days.

Yesterday I woke to news that a Tampa friend of almost 20 years, a former colleague, a woman my age, had lost her four-year battle with cancer. It was a battle she faced head on and fought with all her considerable might.

While D's friends and family in Tampa talked and supported each other back east, the same was happening over the 3,000 miles that separates me from my Tampa community. Friends called and emailed to reminisce and be sure I'd heard the news. Tampa's a small community and D. was well-known and well-loved.

In the four years since her diagnosis and during many grueling rounds of treatment, D. epitomized "make every day count." She was already a successful entrepreneur, a community leader and a devoted mother. But in these final years, she lived that advice--make every day count--completely and wholly. She faced the end of her life on earth with great courage and grace.

I was amazed at her positive attitude toward her terminal illness and we corresponded a bit about that. "Oh, I have my down days," she wrote. "But I try to shake them off."

How a person lives says a lot about who they are. But how they die says just as much.

In a little over a week, I'll be in Tampa, raising a cup of coffee with mutual friends in honor of D. and reminisicing. I hope D's loved ones are comforted by the faith that, as Patti Smith so beautifully expresses, paths that cross will cross again.
video

Speak to me
Speak to me heart
I feel a needing
to bridge the clouds
Softly go
A way I wish to know
A way I wish to know

Oh you'll ride
Surely dance
In a ring
Backwards and forwards
Those who seek
feel the glow
A glow we will all know
A glow we will all know

On that day
Filled with grace
And the heart's communion
Steps we take
Steps we trace
Into the light of reunion

Paths that cross
will cross again
Paths that cross
will cross again

Speak to me
Speak to me shadow
I spin from the wheel
nothing at all
Save the need
the need to weave
A silk of souls
that whisper whisper
A silk of souls
that whispers to me

Speak to me heart
all things renew
hearts will mend
round the bend
Paths that cross
cross again
Paths that cross
will cross again

Rise up hold the reins
We'll meet again I don't know when
Hold tight bye bye
Paths that cross
will cross again
Paths that cross
Will cross again

The gift of love

2012-01-12T02:40:00.000-05:00

Curly Girl Designs

We're just past the gift-giving season and for some of us, it's a big relief.
Maybe this year we felt like we couldn't give as much.
Or enough.
Because times are tough.

But here's the secret:

The best gift of all,
the one that means the most,
is free.

That gift is love
and you can give it
any time you like.

Because you can always afford it.
It's abundant.

The spy who flew in from the cold

2012-01-11T10:33:00.005-05:00

I told you I had another story, and here it is.

Tallahassee was and still is a very small town, but somehow, my best stories involve things that happened around flights I was taking back to Tallahassee, usually from Washington, D.C. And maybe that's the key. Washington, D.C.

I've traveled a whole lot, but I've never had as many interesting things happen on trips as happened to me around 1979.You may remember THIS story about John Le Carre.

Here's another story, almost as as good as my John LeCarre` tale:

The flight was from Atlanta to Tallahassee, and I'd connected there on my way home from Washington, D.C. Eastern Airlines flew the route and I was seated in coach next to a tall, thin gentleman in a suit, wearing clear-rimmed eyeglasses and neatly combed hair. He looked familiar.

We struck up a conversation on the 45-minute flight, something I rarely do any more with seatmates. I can't even remember what we talked about, but I do remember that he was very nice. But damn, he looked familiar.

Every so often, I'd say, "You know, you look so familiar. Do you work for DOA?" At the time I worked for the State of Florida's Department of Administration and thought perhaps I'd run into him in the halls.

"I might have," he said, with a small smile.

We continued to talk as the plane made its final approach. He was such a nice man. I racked my brain. Where did I know him from?

Finally as we were landing, I said, "It really is driving me crazy that I feel like I've seen you before."

"Well, Carol," he said. "I'm William Colby."

William Colby was the director of the CIA from 1971 to 1975, capping a long career in intelligence. He was a devout Roman Catholic, a noted liberal and a fascinating man. How many people get to sit down and talk at length with a former spy? Who headed up the CIA?

I wished I'd realized who he was sooner: a missed opportunity for a more significant conversation.

When I regained my wits, I offered him a ride to his hotel (I would've loved to have seen M's face if I'd showed up at the car with William Colby), he said he was covered and we said our goodbyes and both vanished into the north Florida night.

Just like in a spy movie.

One thing you can fake. In fact, you SHOULD fake it.

2012-01-10T10:36:00.003-05:00

What if you sat down for coffee with a girlfriend and she started the conversation by telling you that she'd identified 16 universal principles for happiness and success?

It would make an interesting discussion, wouldn't it? That's what it's like to read The Diva Doctrine: 16 Universal Principles Every Woman Needs to Know? by Patricia V. Davis.

Maybe she'd start out by telling you that you are 10 times prettier than you think you are, no matter how pretty you think you are. I'll bet she'd tell you why that's true.

And maybe she'd tell you that the only thing you should be faking is confidence. And then tell you why, and exactly how to do it without coming off as arrogant.

I think you'd like this book. Want to win a free copy? Patricia is making one or two copies available as prizes in a contest. To enter, go to yesterday's contest post HERE. Comment on that post. Or, on my Facebook post. Or my Google+ post.

One lucky winner --two if we have at least 20 entrants--will be drawn randomly this Sunday.

Here's the question:

If you could go back in time
and tell your younger self only ONE thing,
what would it be?

Grown up women: share your wisdom with other readers....and good luck! Click to answer in comments section HERE, or post on my Facebook or Google+ posts. Oh, and be sure you have an email address (or email me one) so if you're chosen, I can find you!

*PS No, I'm not getting paid to do this. I'm doing it because I want you to have this very good advice. And to think about what YOU have to offer other women--what are YOUR success factors?

*PPS Once you've responded, check out what other women have said on earlier posts. Just scroll to yesterday.

The cost of safety

2012-01-10T02:44:00.001-05:00

A beautiful scarlet bird in a cage. We'll never see a flash of scarlet across a blue sky. Or perched on a branch.

This bird's safe.

But at what cost?

Have you chosen safety over excitement? Over fulfillment?

How's that working for you?

Or, a better question: what's it costing you?

CONTEST * WIN A COPY OF THE DIVA DOCTRINE

2012-01-09T14:33:00.002-05:00

Got wisdom to share?

And for sharing it, want to win a copy of The Diva Doctrine: 16 Universal Principles Every Woman Needs to Know? by Patricia V. Davis, rockin' author and Middle-aged-Diva blog reader.

Yep. She reads this very blog, same as you.

Easy. Just answer this question below on this blog. Or, on Facebook. Or Google+.

One lucky winner will be drawn randomly this Sunday.

Unless we have 20 or more entrants, in which case Patricia will make TWO copies available--TWO winners.

Here's the question:

If you could go back in time
and tell your younger self only ONE thing,
what would it be?

Answer in comments section below, on Facebook or Google+.

Why do you want this book? I'll tell you why: its message about developing confidence and self-esteem is so good it has resonated with readers in a big way: it got 4.5 stars on Amazon, in fact.

I was shocked at the number of younger women I met at BlogHer last summer who openly discussed how their serious self-esteem issues limit their lives. Is there a young woman in your life who might feel the same way--even if she doesn't talk so openly about it?

This is a book you will want to read, give to your teenage daughter, granddaughter, younger friends, peers--Patricia breaks it down with humor, insight and compassion and I agree with everything she says. That's my copy in the photo above.

Share your wisdom with other readers....and good luck! (sorry for the duplicate post, long story)

Drinking, the Pope & John Le Carre

2012-01-09T09:36:00.001-05:00

Like most people who have been around a long time ---actually, who have been around, period -- I have a few stories, tales to tell, things that happened a long time ago.

The memory of one came back the other day, when I saw the movie made of John LeCarre's Tinker, Tailor etc and I'm going to tell it for no other reason that it makes no sense at all.

It was the fall of 1979 and I was living in Tallahassee, Fla., the state capitol, and traveling to our nation's capital often for business. Sitting in the airport in Washington D.C. one afternoon, I was scribbling on a yellow pad to pass the time before my flight. It might have been something for work or it might have been a journal entry; it was a long time ago and I don't remember exactly.

A disheveled man in a stained and wrinkled black raincoat carrying a battered brown leather briefcase caught my attention as he walked unsteadily across the gate and sat himself down one seat away from me. The pungent smell of alcohol wafted across my personal space. People seated nearby got up and moved to seats further away.

Why does this always happen to me? I wondered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him open his briefcase. In it were some papers and a hairbrush, one of those white boar-bristled kinds you might find on a vanity. He pawed through them, muttering to himself. I looked back down at my yellow pad.

Then, he spoke: "Are you a writer? I see you are writing."

I looked up. He was addressing me.

"I am," I said, turning back to my writing pad to discourage him.

"I'm a writer, too," he said, slurring his words. He was definitely tipsy. Everyone else at the gate was avoiding eye contact with him.

I looked up again and gave him a small smile.

"Here," he said, pulling out some stapled pages from his leather bag. He handed them to me. "I'm working on this."

I glanced at them. The title had the word "Hegemony" in it, and that's all I remember. Mostly because at the time, I had no idea what it meant. I handed him back the pages.

"I'm John Le Carre′," he said, stuffing the pages back in his valise.

I smiled again, thinking to myself, right, and I'm the Queen of England.

"Actually, that's not my real name. My real name is David Cornwell."

He was still talking to me. This guy would not be shaken.

Oh, just go with it, I told myself. He's probably a drunk academic, and that's a scholarly paper he just showed you.

"Really." I said it more as a statement than a question.

"Yes, and I just got out of jail," he told me.

I'm sure you did, I thought.

"I threatened to kill the Pope."

I perked up. Pope John Paul II was visiting D.C. The White House to be exact.

"Really?" This time it was a question.

"Yes, they put me in jail because I threatened to kill him."

"They did, huh." Now he had my full attention. Before I could ask the obvious question--why? -- he spoke again:

"Do you know who Laurence Rockefeller is?" He pulled his raincoat closer around his body.

"I do."

"He's a friend of mine. I had to call him to get me out of jail. And so I got out and here I am. I'm going to visit him now." He snapped his case shut.

"That's good." I said. Ha! I thought. I'll bet Laurence Rockefeller would love to know this nutcase.

Just then, my flight was called. I stood, nodded a goodbye and headed toward the doorway. Poor delusional guy, I thought as I found my seat on the Eastern Airlines jet.

Perhaps a month later I was in another airport. Passing a newsstand, I saw a familiar face on the cover of a magazine on display. It was the drunk guy I'd seen in the D.C. airport.

I zig-zagged into the shop and grabbed the magazine off the rack.The cover story was about Smiley's People, which had just been published that year. Inside was a profile of the man I'd met. I scanned it.

"John Le Carre′ is his pen name, but his real name is David Cornwell," it said.

And me? I must be the Queen of England, after all.

CONTEST COMING!*

2012-01-08T20:01:00.008-05:00

A really great author of a well-regarded book offering words of wisdom to empower women -- young, old and in between-- has given me a great idea for a contest.... and her fabulous book will be the prize!

If there are at least 20 entries, she'll offer two books, not just one.

I'm just putting you all on the alert today that a contest is coming and you definitely should enter.

Because this is one book you will want to read and give to a young woman you know.

In fact, I hope a couple young women readers enter this contest. Yes, you, missy down south. And you, missy who empowers young children for a living on the East Coast. And you, who have teenage daughters. And yes, you, too, grandparents!

You should all enter the contest because you want this book. Stay tuned!

*This is what is called a "teaser". I always hated them when I worked in marketing.

The peace of Buddhism

2012-01-08T00:25:00.000-05:00

Sheltered by a forest of huge, old redwoods, the Land of Medicine Buddha held me in its calm embrace. I arrived at dusk by way of a narrow winding road with barely enough space for a single car. Even though the sun was almost ready to set, I couldn’t see it for the canopy of green. A lovely place for a self-retreat.

The silence felt sacred. A few signs encouraged visitors to keep their voices down and except for one shrill little bark that sounded suspiciously like Riley (but wasn’t), there was not a sound.

A large, colorful prayer wheel covered with mantras sat in the small main plaza. The temptation to spin it got the best of me, and I sent out my intentions to bless all sentient beings. Despite the chilly air and looming darkness, a Buddhist nun was working on an even bigger one nearby.

Accommodations were on the spartan side of comfortable, adequate for a writing retreat. Yurt #12, where I stayed, was not really a yurt at all. It was a tiny room, one of maybe eight in a wooden building warmed by individual space heaters. There were two twin beds (one on which I put my stuff) and a small writing desk and chair that I requested in advance. During the day, a skylight brought in sunshine but at night, I wrote by a couple of dim reading lamps, using the single overhead eyeball fixture when needed. No phone. No cell coverage. No internet. No TV.

No distractions.

My friend and I went to a meditation the first night. As we waited outside in the cold night air, we each spun the prayer wheel, sending our blessings and intentions out to the world.

The meditation room was spectacular, awash in coral, green, blue and gold. So much gold! Beautiful little lamps shaped like lotuses lined several walls and above them, eight gilt Medicine Buddhas kept watch, emanating vibrations for health and healing. Water bowl offerings and artificial flowers in all colors of the rainbow added to the exotic ambience.

We are not so different after all, went the second meditation of the hour. Our meditation leader encouraged us to think of how friends/enemies/strangers can shift roles even in the same day, and to acknowledge those who have helped us along our paths. The Buddhist concept is equanimity.

Afterwards, we unpacked our picnic dinners and ate in my room, sharing vegetables, cashews and whatever else we had with us. We talked a little about writing and about our meditation.

I learned to meditate many years ago; my teacher was a former Buddhist monk who lives and works just a few miles away in Santa Cruz. I still use his meditations on CD, when I think to sit. In Tampa, friends and I occasionally went to a drop-in meditation. We loved it. But then I moved and my life grew to include a full-time husband and pets. Meditation fell by the wayside, like so many things do after a big life transition. I'd like to get back to regular practice.

Outside, the air was penetratingly cold and the black night sky was awash with stars, glittering, tempting us to think about what lay beyond. On the mountain, the stars don’t have to compete with the artificial lights of the nighttime city skyline. We don't have to compete, either; we all glitter in our own way.

Inside, the space heater made my room cozy and I slept well that first night.

After a breakfast of cereal and fruit in the dining room, we returned to our rooms and wrote. But after a few hours of work, a hike up the hill beckoned, and we headed toward the 8 Verses Trail. It was a fairly steep climb.

Shrines and statues appeared every so often, giving us a reason to pause and catch our breath. Hikers had left many kinds of offerings: coins, a miniature skateboard, a small gold turtle, a candy cane, a rabies tag. Each trinket had a story, I knew, but my head was full of my own writing and I didn’t want distract myself by thinking about what they might be.

At first, I was sorry that I hadn’t thought to bring a camera, but then quickly realized that taking photos would have ruined the moment. It was enough to preserve what I saw in my memory and recall it whenever I want.

At the Wish Fulfillment Temple, a gigantic Buddha served as backdrop for another, smaller Buddha. No matter how we worship, the importance and comfort of rituals are obvious. My friend, also born Catholic, and I talked about fundamentalists, and how hard it is to believe that any deity would send the majority of the world’s population to hell because they weren’t a member of a single club.

No, I don’t think it matters how we worship, only that we do acknowledge that a supreme entity has made us all. Maybe, as my husband thinks, it’s a watchmaker God who winds it up and lets it run without intervening. Or maybe it’s someone else. But I am as convinced as ever that it’s an inclusive Deity and not an exclusive one.

Lunch was a simple but tasty meal: hearty and delicious root vegetable dish and tender greens with mushrooms and onions. Then, back to writing.

At home there are a million distractions to tempt me: Riley wants to go outside, the phone rings, Little He howls for attention, I see the DVR taping and check to see what it is, books sit waiting, M. wants to talk, there’s a meal to prepare. But it’s far easier to focus when I'm sitting in the stillness of a redwood forest. And then, too soon, it's over.

So what did I take away from my short retreat? Some 6,000 words and some support work for my book, but beyond that I brought back the realization that I needed to create a more peaceful writing space. That a place needed to found for everything in my office and that most of it should be out of sight. This kind of work takes a clear mind and a clear mind requires a clear space.

I am not known for being a clear space kind of girl.

I’m not sure when I’ll return to this magical place, or even if I will. But I know that I’ll carry the Medicine Buddha with me from now on.

Brahma Viharas:

May all sentient beings have happiness and its causes,
May all sentient beings be free of suffering and its causes,
May all sentient beings never be separated from bliss without suffering,
May all sentient beings be in equanimity, free of bias, attachment and anger.

Shelter from any storm

2012-01-07T10:43:00.003-05:00

Curly Girl Designs

It seems so obvious, doesn't it?
And yet, how often do we mess it up?
Or take it for granted?

A good friend gave me a plaque this year that says
Friendship is a sheltering tree.
I agree.
The love of real friends provides a refuge from any storm.

Romantic love is like the sheltering sky.
It envelops us entirely
and under its umbrella, it's safe to be our best self.
And our worst.

Love like that is worth taking care of.
Because it really is our greatest fortune.

Sharpen your colored pencils

2012-01-06T08:12:00.001-05:00

Sharpen the colored pencils,
it's time to get to work,
to draw your 2012 life with decisive lines,
in bright hues,
and
with a firm grip.

CONTEST: WIN A COPY OF THE DIVA DOCTRINE

2012-01-05T17:01:00.018-05:00

If you could go back in time
and tell your younger self only ONE thing,
what would it be?

Mean girls, jealousy & Downton Abbey

2012-01-05T00:56:00.006-05:00

The sisters on Downton Abbey: left to right: Lady Edith, Lady Sybil and Lady Mary.

A terrific British miniseries, Downton Abbey, was replayed on PBS Masterpiece the other day.

Downton Abbey is much like the beloved old series, Upstairs Downstairs, only the characters are much nastier. Both upstairs and down.

I love period pieces that take us back to a different day and time and give us a chance to reflect on what's different now. And what's the same.

On Downton Abbey, I was struck in particular by the middle sister, Lady Edith. Edith feels she's been overshadowed by her older sister, Mary. Out of jealousy, she ruined Mary's prospects at marriage by sending a letter revealing that her sister had perhaps....well, let's say.... "not been virtuous." In Edwardian times, a woman's virtue was important to her marital prospects and if a woman's marital prospects were ruined, so was her life.

So Lady Edith was the ultimate Edwardian mean girl.

This is a seriously mean-girl scenario. It's familiar to me and maybe to you, too.

It's a sad fact, but true nonetheless, that there are people in this world who do not wish us well.
Maybe, like Lady Edith, they compare themselves to us and our perceived abundance reinforces their perceived lack.

So, what are we do to do with those who attempt to actively work against us?

Lady Edith's sister, Mary, took revenge, as in an eye for an eye. She managed to keep Edith from getting a marriage proposal Edith really wanted. But revenge is nasty business, in my opinion, and that kind of negative energy just isn't worth it.

So what to do?

I read something the other day that seemed like a better way. When we encounter someone who means us harm, it advised, we should treat them as though it were their last hour on earth. Compassionately. Because negative energy really is a disease. Destructive.

I like that idea a lot.

And for some reason, a passage from the Desiderata keeps coming to mind:

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Yes. Always.

So don't sweat it.

Oh, and P.S.: Season Two of Downtown Abbey starts this weekend. It's set on my DVR.

Be silly today

2012-01-04T11:19:00.000-05:00

Ok, I haven't done studies.
And Curly Girl Designs (above) probably hasn't, either.

But what we and they know is that we don't play enough.
Or laugh enough.

The most fabulous sound in the world is that of
a young child laughing.
That pure joy is almost always elicited by silliness.
On someone's part.

We lose some of that when we grow up.
We become more concerned with image
and appearances.
Being professional.
Mature.

If we're lacking joy in our lives,
we probably aren't silly enough.

Today would be a good day to do something silly.
Try it!
And report back, ok?

Proof that we're living with love

2012-01-03T09:39:00.004-05:00

Tears by Greg High

Tears are the fruit of the soul.*

I cry.
I cry at sad movies.
At homeless people.
At animal cruelty.
During hymns at mass.
At the end of Silent Night.

When things touch me deeply, I cry.
So when someone I know wrote
this to me in an email,
I got it.

Tears prove that we are living with soul.
And living with soul (and love) is what it's all about.

{*Thank you, B, for that thought.}

A day in the city by the bay

2012-01-02T08:35:00.005-05:00

Sister-diva arrived from Bakersfield on Friday and as part of our visit, we couldn't resist a drive to San Francisco on New Year's Eve. We hit up the Ferry Building and then had some brunch at The Plant Cafe on the Embarcadero. Best of all, I found a great parking lot for next time I'm in the City. Which is at least every week, if not more often. And since it was New Year's Eve:Wine store all decked out on New Year's Eve.
At the Ferry Building, an entire stand devoted to funghi of all kinds. Beautiful. A fancier outlet than I've seen in mushroom-loving Italy, but the mushrooms were fresh and gorgeous. Then we took a nice long walk in the sunshine to Fisherman's Wharf.
Iconic San Francisco duo: Ghirardelli and cable cars.
Oh, before I forget: There were actually three people texting at this table of four for breakfast in San Francisco. The third one is next to the guy and you can just make out her hand. No one was engaged in conversation, three were staring at their phones and tap-tap-tapping. The other was trying every so often to converse. I couldn't help but wonder what they were missing by not enjoying the pleasure of each other's company. Sorry, Miss Manners would NOT approve. In someone's company, put away the phone.
Can you imagine buying mini-donuts by the bucket? They didn't even look that good.
Fisherman's Wharf specialty.
However, this would be a great palliative for life's boo-boos. Love it.
Even better: gorgeous, blue-sky days in the city by the bay. Who wouldn't love San Francisco?

Begin today

2012-01-02T07:58:00.000-05:00

Kelly Rae Roberts

We've turned the page.
Will a new life story start today?

New Year's Day in Capitola

2012-01-01T20:54:00.018-05:00

It was so warm and gorgeous, we decided to drive over to Capitola Beach for lunch and a quick visit with a friend. Getting out of the car, we heard music. Could it be...ukeleles? What a happy sound! I took video; take a listen:

A beautiful, sunny beach day for the first day of the new year, see below:
Even gulls want to look good on the beach. This one groomed himself for a bit.
What a sweet idea: tiles painted with children's drawings along the beach wall.

What most people think of when we say "California beach."
Iconic beach restaurant sign:
Beach ecology is important:
Capitola and I share more than two decades of memories. This has always been one of my very favorite places on the beach.
Beach-lovers are lovingly memorialized on the Capitola Wharf.
"He danced on these waters..."
We are reminded that the ocean -- and nature itself--are infinite. And so are we.

Happy new year to my readers!

2012-01-01T00:00:00.001-05:00

Curly Girl Designs

To everyone who reads the Diva:
whether it's every day or every once in a while;
whether you comment below on the blog, on Facebook,
in an email or just in your head;
whether you agree or don't agree--
YOU ALL ROCK!
Happy new year to each and every one of you.

I have some of the smartest,
most interesting and thoughtful readers in the web-verse.

I love to hear from you
and I especially love for you to share your own experiences
and thoughts here on the blog, so others can learn from them.

Several of you who came into my life as Diva's readers
have already become great friends, as in
out-to-lunch or come-for-the-weekend.
Yes, from online here to real-time.
And we talk about all the things I blog about
and more.
Because life holds issues and answers for us all.

So, thank you for reading.
For commenting.
Come back soon.
And often.

And here's to getting to meet more of you in 2012!

Resolutions, intentions & possibilities

2011-12-31T00:22:00.003-05:00

I'm not a big believer in New Year's Resolutions, at least not usually.
They can be a setup for failure.

But I do believe in setting intentions,
whether it's just before the calendar page turns to a new year
or any other day.

January 1, 2012 will be no different than any other tomorrow.
Because every day brings with it a chance for a fresh start.

If your habit is to set intentions or make resolutions tonight,
by all means, do it.

But if it isn't, rest assured that every time the calendar page turns
we can choose to live our lives differently.

That's 365 chances each year.

And in a leap year, even another chance.

Finding beauty

2011-12-30T08:37:00.001-05:00

Altered Gypsy

Where do I even start with this?
I won't even.
Just the observation that beauty can be found in the most unlikely places.

Dealing with loss

2011-12-29T11:08:00.001-05:00

Sunflower Sadness 4 Mother by Michael G. Moore

I closed the box and put it in a closet.
There is no real way to deal with
everything we lose.
-Joan Didion

Well, so, this is the thing: when we suffer a loss, it's not unusual to obsess about it. We massage it. We work it like a tongue fidgeting at a chipped tooth. We carry it like a brick in our pocket, always present, weighing us down.

We do this for as long as we have to. As long as it takes.

Maybe until, as Didion says, we realize there is no real way to deal with everything we lose. And then, like faded photographs and old mementos, we put our loss in a box and place it in a closet.

We can take it out any time we like. Even run our fingers over it.

But deal with it?

Maybe that's just asking too much.

Just get it on the page

2011-12-28T07:41:00.000-05:00

Waiting for the pen to dry up
so she can start fresh
with thoughts that are worth new ink.
~Storypeople

Figuratively speaking of course,
because no one writes in ink anymore.

The Buddha Doctor is IN

2011-12-27T10:14:00.000-05:00

I'm going to the Land of Medicine Buddha today. Doesn't that sound restful?

It's a wooded retreat in the Santa Cruz Mountains and will be a peaceful writing environment for a few days. A friend who also writes has the room next door. We'll write, talk about our work and stroll through the retreat's redwood forest.

The property is green, shaded, lovely, with a meandering path called the Eight Verses Pilgrimage Trail. Verses are posted every so often along the trail and above inviting teakwood benches where we can sit and contemplate what we've read.

Two meals will be provided at an additional cost: vegetarian and organic. Substances are forbidden, as is killing of any kind, including of bugs. The accommodations are spare, but not way too rustic.

The reading and writing part of this two-night retreat is appealing. But I'm hoping that the Medicine Buddha does even more for me.

Medicine Buddha is an enlightened being who has unbiased compassion for all living beings. He protects them form physical and mental sickness and other dangers and obstacles, and helps them to eradicate the three poisons--attachment, hatred and ignorance--which are the source of all sickness and danger. He is a Buddha Doctor. -Geshe Kelsang Gyatso

No, I'm not sick. And I've come a long way with a few troubling personal issues. But still, there's always something that nags at each of us, that troubles us, and I'm no different.

How wonderful to sit in a gentle place of healing for a little while. A place of colorful prayer flags and spinning prayer wheels. Where silence heals and in that healing, opens hearts.

S0-good-for-you green drink: YUMMM!

2011-12-26T09:14:00.002-05:00

Have you overindulged? Or are you trying to eat more healthfully?

Trainer Chris talked me into drinking this once a day. He calls it Green Drink. I try not to call it Swill.

It's definitely a healthy beverage and is more or less palatable, depending on what you put in it. I know you're just DYING for the recipe, right?

Here's how he wanted me to make it:

Juice from one lemon (if using a blender)
or one whole lemon (if using a juicer)

Half an avocado
Half a cucumber
1 or 2 celery stalks
1 cup of raw spinach
2 cups water

Ok, so I couldn't get it all down. It made at least 3 cups or more of swill and it was so lemony my lips puckered so shut I looked like a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills. You might like the lemony taste, though, so try it his way first.

Don't think too much about what's in it or you might not get it down.

So next time, I adapted it as follows:

No lemon
Half an avocado
Half a cucumber
1 celery stalk
1 cup of raw spinach
2 cups water
One-third banana
3/4 of a sweet apple

Definitely more palatable. But you should know Trainer Chris frowns on the fruit. Too much sugar.

So the third time I reduced the apple to 1/3. Not quite as good. It made 4 cups. I got almost 3 down.

Oh, and don't worry about the spinach. It has no taste at all, honest.

Trainer Chris and his henchman, Trainer Aaron, maintain that you can train your taste buds to think this stuff is good. Trainer Aaron insists it tastes sweet to him, and he omits the fruit completely. Except for lemon.

I'm not there yet.

Who said getting healthy would be easy?

Merry to all

2011-12-25T10:18:00.003-05:00

A blessed Christmas to my loved ones and my wonderful readers, near and far. And to all a good night.

Dogs plotting Christmas revenge. My dogs.

2011-12-24T21:16:00.012-05:00

I'm just not sure these antlers are me.

How the hell am I supposed to wear these?

No, I did NOT get into the spiked eggnog!

Man's best friend, my ass.

All right, all right, if I have to.

Don't worry, Little He. They go to sleep early.
And payback is hell.

Sound of the season: Christmas Canon in D

2011-12-24T20:38:00.001-05:00

Pachelbel's beautiful, baroque Canon in D* reminds me of weddings, funerals and my ex, B. But Transiberian Orchestra's Christmas version reminds me of just that: Christmas. Especially Christmas Eve. Enjoy!

Transiberian Orchestra/Christmas Canon

*composed in the late 1600s but only discovered in the 20th century. It was first published in 1919. Incredible.

No room at the inn

2011-12-24T10:47:00.001-05:00

Our Christmas tree sits festively in a corner of the living room, decorated and lit.

Underneath are a handful of packages from distant friends and family, but tonight, we'll be opening no gifts for one another this season.

Instead, we'll sit by the fire and think about the people we've helped with the money we would have spent on one another this holiday. It's our new tradition. And I love it.

I'm also happy to see that so many of my friends have done the same thing.

By helping others, we really are reaching out to people who could find "no room at the inn." It's the true spirit of the season and this year, it's been infectious.

May you all have a joyous Christmas.

Cute Christmas puppies

2011-12-24T00:00:00.000-05:00

Total cute overload: Video of puppies at Christmas.
Maybe this will be the scene at your house tomorrow?

Christmas in San Francisco

2011-12-23T00:05:00.002-05:00

I was raised in Currier & Ives country, white Christmases and all. By the time I was 21, though, I was off to sunnier pastures and Christmases without cold and snow.

Here in the San Francisco Bay area, our weather cools significantly, but snow is quite rare; there's only a dusting that quickly melts, if we get it at all. No matter, it's still Christmas, and here's a song that tells you what it's like.

Barry Devorzon/ Christmastime in San Francisco

Missing mom

2011-12-22T09:17:00.003-05:00

Santa Maria Porcello Cassara
August 27, 1925 - December 22, 1999

I know you're not really gone,
but the world definitely seems smaller.

I continue to live the life
you would have loved to have had.
Think of you and miss you every single day.

still falling for her

The phlox in the jar is softening,
from the sphere of it a blossom flutters,
and the whole sagging thing makes me think
of my mother’s flesh, when she was elderly, and it was
wilting, keeping its prettiness
in its old-fangled gentleness.
It’s as if I’m falling in love, again,
with my mother, through the gallowsglass of my
own oncoming elderliness, as if,
now that she has been gone from the earth
as many years as a witch’s familiar
has lives, I can catch glimpses of my mother, at
moments when she was alone with herself, and would
pick up her pen, and her Latinate
vocabulary, and describe what it
was like, on their last cruise, when she rose,
by invitation, from the captain’s table,
and stood beside the black, grand
Steinway, in the open ocean,
and sang. I do not need a picture to
remind me of the look on my mom’s
face, when she sang—extreme yearning,
a yearning out at the edge of what was
socially acceptable
on a ship like that, and you could also see
how happy her face was, to be looked at,
and you could see her listening to her own voice,
to hear if it started to go flat, or anything
she needed to do to get the music
to its hearers intact as itself, I am falling,
and I do not feel that there are rocks, below,
I think I may go on falling, like my own
flesh, for the rest of my life, and maybe I’ll
still be falling for my mother after
my death—or not falling but orbiting,
with her, and maybe we’ll take turns
who is the moon, and who is the earth.
~Sharon Olds

The Madonna is the uber-mother of Catholics and a big part of Catholic rituals. Ave Maria was my mother's favorite sung prayer. It's only fitting, since Mom was named after the Virgin Mary; her name translates literally as Saint Mary.

The German version embedded below is absolutely gorgeous. Her parish priest told me that it wasn't suitable for her funeral Mass, but grudgingly agreed to it for late in Mass. {This is my problem with organized religion: would it have killed him to have just said "yes"?}

Turn up your volume and enjoy the peace of this lovely hymn.

Ave Maria video

The direct English translation from Schubert's German is lovely. It differs significantly from the Hail Mary we know. Here it is:

Ave Maria! Maiden mild,
Heed your children's prayers,
In the valley of tears, be our shield
Let my prayer waft to you.
We sleep safely until morning,
Your cloak of stars covers us.
O Maiden, see our worries,
O give peace to our hearts!
Ave Maria!
Ave Maria! Pure maidservant!
We want to trust in you faithfully
You, sweet maiden, undaunted
Full of hope, to you gaze upward,
And calmly bend God's Will to us,
That your holy solace may drift to us.
O Maiden, full of grace, tend to us
The child, that suppliantly entreats you.
Ave Maria!

A Silicon Valley Christmas card

2011-12-21T14:20:00.000-05:00

Relationship success depends on....

2011-12-21T00:14:00.006-05:00

Who teaches us the artful give and take in intimate relationships?
No one, at least not explicitly.
We learn those things from watching others, usually our parents.
And we do them, ourselves, with a greater or lesser degree of success, depending on how effective our role models are.

Our role models aren't usually that effective. That's why so many of us struggle with this aspect of our romantic relationships.

I read this, the other day:

Intimate negotiations involve adjustment,
compromise, integrity, truthtelling,
options, willingess and heartfull listening,

-Sark

That's a tall order.

But when I saw the list, I knew exactly why some of my relationships failed.

Sark had it right for most relationships. When they don't work, it's usually because one or both partners fails on one or more of the activities listed above. A relationship rises and falls on the ability --and willingness--of both partners to negotiate.

The list is a good test for any relationship, and certainly puts areas for improvement in sharp relief.

What 21st century good kids get for Christmas

2011-12-20T10:21:00.005-05:00

This is kind of funny.

In a 21st century, California kind of way.

Solitude regenerates

2011-12-20T08:15:00.000-05:00

So maybe he is a little extreme.

But there's healing power in solitude.

Once you lose someone

2011-12-19T00:14:00.007-05:00

Once you lose someone,
it's never exactly the same person
who comes back.
-Sharon Olds

After my mother died, I had dreams
(or were they thoughts?) about her.
In them, she was someone unfamiliar,
with whom I was awkward.
It was as if she were someone completely different.
Someone with whom I didn't know how to interact.

But in the physical world, sometimes
it's not the that the person is different,
it's that the relationship is different.
Time, water under the bridge, our own changes--
they all impact a friendship or a relationship dynamic.

And while it's tempting to think this is about my husband, it isn't.
He is exactly the same as he was when we parted in 1980
and I am not kidding.
Exactly.
Not common.
But a fact.

Faith, belief & religion

2011-12-18T10:04:00.013-05:00

Can you prove
any of the stuff you believe in?
my son asked me
& when I said
that's not how belief works,
he nodded & said
that's what he thought
but he was just checking
to make sure
he hadn't missed a key point.
~Storypeople

It's taken me a long time to learn what I believe in, I said to one of my wise mentors the other day, a woman with much life experience. She nodded with understanding.

It wasn't that I heard a sermon or read the Bible or succumbed to exortations to "be saved!" It wasn't like that at all, not for me.

It seems like one day in my 50s I woke up and saw that all of the input I'd had along the way--reading, church, personal experience, conversations with friends--had coalesced into something that I firmly believed. You might say the Holy Spirit sneaked up on me and hit me with its magic wand.

I wasn't really sure what I believed. Never really thought that much about it, either. Then, this belief thing, this faith, tiptoed up and ambushed me --without conscious awareness on my part. But the processing was going on all along, just like a computer program that running invisibly in the background.

I was born into a religion but not a faith. Catholic rituals are comforting in their familiarity, but the belief structure itself just never took and I've always considered myself more of an ethnic Catholic than anything else. Other organized religions were an uncomfortable fit. {and still are}

Here's what I believe: that it doesn't matter how we worship. Or what we call a deity. Or how we even think of one. The details of our faith are unimportant. What is important is that we believe and that we live our lives with love. Because life doesn't just stop; there is something after and we are going to look back at this place and time. It would be good to be able to do that without cringing. {at least not too much}

Rather than force it, if we leave ourselves room enough, and time, we come to what we believe to be true.

I'm awed at how that works.

The Mad Hatter was very wise.

2011-12-17T00:01:00.002-05:00

The path to love

2011-12-16T03:13:00.001-05:00

The door to my heart opens inward.
I move through forgiveness to love.
-Louise Hays

Un-American Christian group attacks All-American Muslim show

2011-12-15T09:17:00.004-05:00

Suehaila, cast member All-American Muslim

"Christianity is just hatred in disguise."
-a Christian young person I know

Some random religious fringe group in Tampa (of all places) called The Florida Family Association (don't you love the name?) is pressuring advertisers to withdraw air time bought on the reality show, All-American Muslim. Apparently, its commitment to traditional, biblical values makes it uniquely qualified to determine that the show possesses a "hidden Islamic agenda."

Of course, FFA conveniently forgets all the real Christian values. You know, "love thy neighbor," "forgiveness," etc. And apparently they believe that all Muslims adhere to this so-called hidden agenda. Just like Jews killing Christ. Who was also a Jew. Twisted reasoning.

Before I watched the TV show, I knew very little about Muslims in America. The window the show provides taught me about their world --and about Islam in general. It's probably done more to dispel myth than anything in recent years.

Shockingly, home improvement chain Lowe's capitulated to the FFA "pressure." Not very American of Lowe's, now, is it? Apparently its management has forgotten that America was founded by people seeking religious freedom. Check the history books, fellas.

But then again, so many religious fundamentalists think religious freedom is their right and theirs alone. Others should not have the right to worship differently, they think. They should be converted or "saved."

Lowe's says that boycotts by those who believe it shouldn't have pulled the ads will just be a temporary blip on its sales. Sadly, they're probably right. Still, it won't get my business again, that's for sure. Management also made a lame press statement about how much emotion this show generates "on both sides." It fell flat, as it should have. You can't play it both ways, Lowe's.

The good news is that ad time on the show is now sold out, and that wealthy hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons stepped up and said he'll buy up any remaining time. Kudos, Mr. Simmons, for putting your money where your mouth is. Fortunately, the show's ad time SOLD OUT. YES. And kudos to Campbell Soup, Sears and Bank of America for not knuckling under to these crazies.

It's telling that the young person I quoted above sees the hatred being perpetuated by some of these so-called religious groups.

Unlike my young friend, I don't believe that all Christianity is based on hatred, but some Christians behave as if it is, and that sickens me.

The Hall of Shame today for:

Lowe's, which has knuckled under to
Bigots represented by
The so-called Florida Family Association and
Fundamentalists who want to quash other religions

Click HERE for more details. As for me, well, I'll find alternatives to shopping at bigoted Lowe's. I've done this before with a retail outlet whose sales pitch to me was political rather than consumerist, and I'll do it with Lowe's. Maybe just a blip, but at least I feel I'm doing something.

This little piggy

2011-12-14T08:58:00.003-05:00

by Bonnie Fields

There's just something about this watercolor of a pig that I love.
Maybe its cocked-head attitude.
Its colors.
Its simplicity.
Or maybe I just can't resist a cute pig.

Well, this little piggy's going to market today.
How about you?

Love is always worth it

2011-12-13T00:33:00.004-05:00

Curly Girl

Reckless abandon has always worked for me.

Seems to me that taking a risk for love
is always worth it,
no matter how it turns out.

Connect the dots: the 9 dot problem

2011-12-12T03:10:00.000-05:00

We were lucky enough to see Steve Jobs: The Lost Interview, before its short, limited run ended. Actually, we saw it in Palo Alto, where Steve lived, just down the road a piece from where we live.

The interview was conducted in 1995, the year before Jobs returned to Apple. He was only 40 years old. Handsome, charming, direct and oh-so-bright and visionary.

If you've read my other posts about Steve Jobs, you know he was someone I admired and in a strange way his influence was entwined with my time here in Silicon Valley. And so it won't surprise you to know that I cried at the end for the great loss we've experienced.

My husband had no such connection to Steve and found it hard to understand. But as we walked out of the film, he said, "I get it now. He was the Aristotle of our generation--no, he was the DaVinci of our generation. What an amazing mind."

And then, in the car, he drew this puzzle and talked about how Steve would have solved it. Do you know it?

Draw this with pen and paper. Then, using 4 straight lines, connect all nine dots without lifting your pen off the paper. How about trying to do it with 3 straight lines?

There's more than one way to solve this problem, and don't peek till you have tried it. Scroll down for some solutions.

Most people think they have to stay in the box made by the nine dots. But look at the directions closely. I don't see that rule, do you?

That's right, thinking out of the box--drawing out of the box--is the way to solve this problem. And there are actually more solutions than these.

True visionaries don't see the limits that we mortals see. They go beyond nine-dot puzzles and envision things that never were.

Robert F. Kennedy said:

I dream things that never were
and say why not?

Steve Jobs dreamed things that never were and then put teams together and managed them til those impossible things were accomplished.

So what do we learn from people like Jobs, Kennedy and the nine-dot puzzle? It's not just a puzzle, you know. We can apply that kind of thinking to our own problem-solving--problems of any kind. Here's how:

Look beyond the definition of the problem. Are there rules? What is allowable and what's not ? Has the problem been defined any other way besides the obvious? And if it has, immediately test those definitions, because they may not be correct. Define the problem yourself.

Look closely at the boundaries. Are they really there? Or are they self-imposed? One of my favorite Storypeople prints says
Yes, "mountains & rivers know the secret: pay no attention to boundaries."

You may see boundaries that aren't really there--they're just your perception of limits. What might happen if you push past the boundaries? If you saw no limits?

And then there's the fallacy of hard work. You can work your ass off doing the wrong thing over and over, harder and harder and you're still not going to get anywhere. Hard work alone won't solve this problem, or most others.

I read this recently: "You can be very close to a solution while not getting any closer to it." I get it. As Steve Jobs knew, thought is the way to a solution. Just working harder isn't going to get you there.

All of these things apply to just about anything in life, including personal relationships. Family. And work.

Steve Jobs and the 9 dots problem: a lesson for this day and every day.

Turns out the world isn't flat, after all

2011-12-11T10:13:00.001-05:00

It would serve us to remember this, especially as we think of religion, afterlife and all things that are completely out of our current frame of reference:

The suppression of uncomfortable ideas
may be common in religion or in politics,
but it is not the path to knowledge,
and there's no place for it in the endeavor of science.
The history of our study of our solar system shows us clearly
that accepted and conventional ideas are often wrong,
and that fundamental insights can arise
from the most unexpected sources.
-Carl Sagan

Steve redeeems himself in Episode 2 - Weed Wars

2011-12-10T09:47:00.000-05:00

Since I was so critical of the way Steve & the crew came across in the first episode of the new reality show, Weed Wars, I feel compelled to say he redeemed himself in the second episode.

Steve served as an articulate spokesman for his cause, and even his wild-eyed brother looked good as he helped a father find the right cannabis medicine for his young son who has a terrible form of epilepsy. I was also heartened to see that the child, who had awful seizures daily, was seizure- free for the first four days he took cannabis medicine. The opiates he'd been taking before did nothing. It was a heartbreaking story and I hope cannabis' effectiveness continues for this little boy. There is no question that marijuana has medicinal benefits that our crazy society doesn't want us to investigate. Especially for kids. Sure, let's give him opiates, instead, they think. It's "prescription medicine." Silly, limited thinking that keeps many suffering patients from relief.

I think Discovery milked that first episode for all it was worth, presenting the guys in a crazy way to draw in viewers. But the fact is, people like me don't want to see folks getting high. We want to see credible spokesmen for the cause of medical marijuana. Which Steve was.

Dress, however, had a scene in which he sat silently in the background looking for all intents and purposes like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Only in a dress. But I'm getting used to him. And I kind of like his taste in skirts.

Coffee: writers' drug of choice

2011-12-09T09:35:00.004-05:00

Coffee and writing go back a long way and it's not surprising.
Something needs to fuel the pen (or keyboard, today)
and the effect of intoxicating substances on writing is unreliable.

Except for maybe Dr. Hunter S. Thompson (may he rest in peace),
Huxley, Burroughs, Kerouac, Kesey and a handful of notable others.

Did you know that Robert Louis Stevenson was a cokehead?
That's how Jekyll & Hyde got done in less than a week.
Steven King, too, in his heyday.

But for every one of these ___heads (fill in the blank), there are
a score of other writers who are far too addled with substance to
write anything of it.

Coffee, though, that's another story. It's always been pretty
cheap, at least until big corporate coffee came along, and
a cup can be sipped and nursed for a long time.

Hemingway, Camus, Sartre and even JK Rowling
wrote in coffee shops. Even Picasso fueled his creativity
with coffee.

I love the taste of coffee, but strangely, rarely get a buzz off of it.
It's clearly writers' drug of choice.
And, even without the coffee rush,
mine.

If Joseph & Mary had Facebook

2011-12-08T13:21:00.005-05:00

Mary, Joseph & the family on Facebook. A must-see video.

Handling unattended children

2011-12-08T00:15:00.000-05:00

This sign hangs on the wall in my hair salon.

It may be the best definition of "effective" ever, as I have never seen an unattended child there.

Ever.

BFFs: best friends forever

2011-12-07T00:03:00.006-05:00

This morning I'm thinking about BFFs.

I never did believe in the idea of a single "best friend,"
the kind of exclusiveness that smacks of junior high:
cliques, whispers and sidelong glances.

That's not to say that I think of all
of my extraordinary friends
in the same way.
Each has a different
but an equally important place in my life.

There's the friend with whom I share dark
nights of the soul.
The ones who get my family dramas.
And the one who mentors my writing.
There are those with whom I share
an almost three-decade history
and those I've just met but already love.

I could go on.

Each of my wonderful friends holds my confidence
on one subject or another.
Religion, spirituality, food, beach, the 60s,
history, even sex--there's a friend or two for each
and I access them liberally.

But I can't say that I love one friend better than another.
Because that assumes that love is a scarce resource.
When really, it's in limitless, abundant supply.

Each of my friends is unique
and I love them each individually.
And equally.

You might say each of them is my BFF:
best friend forever.

Nail polish addiction so bad it requires a 12-step program

2011-12-06T09:49:00.004-05:00

Dear God, I am weak, so weak, in the face of Essie's winter collection of nail polish. ♥

It's a rather new fixation for me, nail polish. But when I saw this mostly soft collection online I knew I had to have some of it. I bought Carry On, a purplish burgundy.

It's a rough world out there and sometimes, a girl's just got to be trivial, you know?

We need an escape that keeps us in touch with our long-gone innocent youth, when it was all Tangee lipstick, cat-eye glasses and AquaNet. Before we had bills to pay, retirements to save for and kids to raise.

There are worse addictions.

Weed Wars on Discovery: an unwitting cautionary tale

2011-12-05T07:57:00.003-05:00

We caught the new reality television show, Weed Wars, the other night, and were astonished to see that --unwittingly--it is well on its way to becoming a cautionary tale, a 21st century version of Reefer Madness. An unintended consequence, I'm sure.

First, full disclosure: I think cannabis is pretty benign. Like with any substance, moderation is the key. I also believe weed's got medical benefits that our very strange view of "morality" prevents us from fully exploring. And finally, yes, I believe weed should be legalized and taxed. Nationwide. In California, medical marijuana is legal. But federally, it is not, and since federal law supersedes state law, we may not have our medical marijuana dispensaries for very long. Nothing like wasting taxpayer money to fight something helpful to sick people at best and relatively benign at worst.

But let's talk Weed Wars: when the show's producers found the middle-aged characters who run Oakland's Harborside Medical Center, a $21 million cannabis dispensing operation, they had to have known they'd hit gold. These guys are straight out of central casting. I can just see people in the flyover states nodding every stereotype of California and of people who like smoke is confirmed.

The brothers, on the left and center. Dress is on the right, as you can see.

Steve, a co-owner, sports a porkpie hat, a pair of long, skinny braids, one of those huge round earrings that makes a big ear hole, and says he likes to bite off a little edible weed before taking the podium for a public speaking gig. It makes him relax, and maybe even "a little funny." I've seen him come off as reasonable and bright on a documentary. But on the show he looks and sounds like a complete airhead.

Dave Wedding Dress is also a co-owner. He's tall, got a full beard and yes, wears dresses and skirts. And changed his name to "Dress." Which is what he's called. He was a very quiet presence in the first episode, wearing a jacket, tie and long skirt. On the far right above. In case you didn't notice. I love a man in kilts, but when I saw this dude, I could only ask, "WTF?" The farmers Grant Wood portrayed in his American Gothic oil painting are rolling their eyes.

Andrew, Steve's brother, is the wild-eyed general manager with a maniacal laugh and a decidedly giddy personality. This dude is seriously nuts. He's the guy on the left, above. He'd be well-served by cutting back on the smoke. Truly.

There's a staff salesman whose mother --a therapist, of course--thinks he's smoking so much weed he's lost his ambition. And at least from how he's portrayed in the first show, she may have a point.

And then there are the patients. A woman who asks for the "senior discount." People with cancer and chronic pain, who really need the relief cannabis provides. And there are those who clearly just want to get high. (I see nothing wrong with this--we have a long, cultural tradition of getting high--just look at all the bars in the U.S.)

The CFO, Luigi, has no strategic skills whatsoever. He's sent to appeal to the Oakland City Council's tax committee, which has levied a $1 million retrospective tax on the business. His pitch -- "It will shut us down" -- was as inarticulate as any I've seen. Perhaps it's the constant bong hits he took on camera. To Luigi, I say: "Sugar. Bong hits do not make you more articulate. They make you less."

The committee unanimously finds for the city. The tax must be paid.. Luigi gives Steve with braids the bad news. Steve is unmoved.

"No," he says, definitively, tossing his braids. "Call the Council and tell them they simply have to change that law." Luigi nods in agreement.

Right, boys. That's how it's done. You simply call the City Council and tell them to change the law. Are these guys kidding?

These men are completely delusional. It's easy to suspect weed as the cause. But it could be that they're all just crazy.

Having said that, the operation is pretty sophisticated. The guys and their chief purchasing agent clearly know a boatload about cannabis. It was interesting to see them evaluate potency and look for flaws like mold. It's a viable business. And I could practically smell the characteristic fragrance through the TV when they opened their big bags of bud and dug in to have a closer look. I was once in the home of a grower who had boxes of open bud. The house smelled wonderful.

As entertainment, Weed Wars is good stuff. But in the name of entertainment, it's significantly setting back the cause of marijuana law reform. Boys, your plan to educate the public is backfiring. Expect the feds to raid you any day now.

NORML* should be concerned.

*National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, founded around 1970. www.norml.org

A life with no grey

2011-12-04T04:43:00.001-05:00

This is my definition of a fun life:
a messy bunch of bright colors.
Splotches of contrasting colors in each can.
A canvas daubed with different hues.

It's no accident that my house is filled with all these colors,
and I do mean all.

Splash some paint around in your life this month.

Mistaking effort for progress

2011-12-03T08:11:00.002-05:00

Solid Effort
It's taken me a long time to get here, he said,
so I don't really care if it's wrong.
-Storypeople

This is what it looks like
when we mistake effort
for progress.

If you're in motion
but the scenery's not changing
you're not going anywhere.

Just saying.

Keeping my word

2011-12-02T15:10:00.009-05:00

I walked the dogs at a face pace this morning after I spent an hour with Trainer Chris. I went to the grocery store and bought only healthy items.

Being congruent's hard.

Congruent: in agreement with something

I said I'd do it and I will.

Click that live link on the sentence just above to see what I'm doing. And inspire me with what you're doing in comments below. Because I need your help.

Creative Christmas wrapping

2011-12-02T09:14:00.002-05:00

Now that you've evaded the trampling crowds on Black Friday, it's time to turn your attention toward wrapping all the great deals you scored.

As much as this writer hates to admit it, on the subject of wrapping, a picture's worth a thousand words. So sit back and be prepared to be inspired to make your very own creative packages this year.

Candy as part of the package wrapping.
Thing is, you just shouldn't eat it after.

Dishtowels & cloth napkins make creative
and ecologically friendly gift wrap--as
well as useful gifts.

I love this wrap. I just do. I know it looks like
someone's had a nosebleed on the package, but I still love it.

Who doesn't have old buttons around?
I'd glue them, though. Quicker.

A cascade of stars. Easy.

A pompom that a child could make.

I love this, too. Many possible variations.
If you were really crafty (and patient) you could hand stencil white paper.

Button and string. What could be easier?

Maybe you're not traditional.
My sister-in-love routinely wraps like this.
I try not to hate her.

The title tells you how to do it. Cute cute cute!
And something to do with those leftover tins.
I definitely need to buy some mints so I can do this.

Little works of art.
Definitely not budget wrap. But lovely.

These are various Christmas towels.
Finally! a use for that glitter pen in your drawer!

Cute way to wrap home made jams & cookies.

I found some of those little "takeout" containers at Michaels.

Easy. Colorful.
Untraditional color choices still scream the season.

Inspired? Got an idea to share? Tap it out below.

Has your home been targeted for burglary?

2011-12-01T08:53:00.003-05:00

Have you seen these chalk marks on your sidewalk, driveway or trees? If you have, burglars may be casing your home.

If you live in parts of the Willow Glen area of San Jose, Calif. you have definitely seen some of these markings, which pinpoint homes for burglary. These symbols are most often seen in the UK, but have been appearing here in recent weeks.

The area's been troubled by a string of breaking and entering. A very long string. And some residents have seen these chalk marks on their driveways, sidewalks or trees.

(What, you thought they'd text? )

It seems that aggressive door-to-door "solicitors" may be casing homes and targeting them with the marks.

How do I know this? Willow Glen has an e-list. Subscribers share all sorts of information just as if they were talking over the back fence, and the list has been buzzing these past two months with talk of "solicitors" ringing doorbells late at night, men sitting in cars casing homes and far too many burglaries. These marks have been sighted locally, although not yet in my direct neighborhood.

Be wary. If you see these symbols in your neighborhood, report them to the police department. And be sure your doors and windows are locked when you leave the house, or even when you're home.

And here's what is really disturbing. Despite many calls to the police, these "solicitors" are still wandering around the area. Our law enforcement resources are stretched to the limit and they can not follow up on many of these calls. That's the damn truth. So: men are still ringing doorbells at 9:25pm at night, wandering neighborhoods assessing robbery potential and burglaries are continuing.

Which is why, much as I believe in our right to protest, I am unhappy that the Occupy movement is diverting law enforcement personnel that could be fighting crime.