I was asked to write an obituary for a remarkable woman, truly what people would call a "character", someone who made my "family I've chosen" better with her presence, her candor, her unsappy approach to compassion. After writing it, I gave it to her husband Bill for him to give to the newspaper. Unfortunately, a snafu meant that it didn't appear the day before the funeral. I intervened, tried logic, then asked for humanity to prevail and unfortunately, the bottom line was the only thing the business side of the paper was interested in. At more than $800, I thought the charges were excessive when the item wouldn't appear until the day of the funeral. So I switched approaches. A call to the News Desk resulted in a feature story, celebrating her volunteerism, that appeared last night online and the day of the funeral on page 2 of the City Section and above the fold.
Carolyn would not have enjoyed the attention, but would have been thoroughly pleased that we beat the system and got it all for free. They didn't use my version of the story and as a result got a few great quotes from Bill that I didn't. But in case you never had the privilege of meeting her, here's my introduction to a great woman who loved and lived life to the fullest:
Carolyn Sharber, 75, died June 17. Her sudden death occurred as she was fulfilling one of her many volunteer roles – assisting Texas Lovin’ Cloggers prior to a performance in Branson, MO.
Born in Elizabeth City, NC, Carolyn spent 39 years in classrooms in New Orleans and Houston. She and her husband, Bill, recently celebrated their 54th wedding anniversary. Childhood sweethearts, they attended grade school and high school together and graduated from East Carolina University.
Upon her retirement from teaching physical education, Carolyn began a second “career” of volunteerism. Her commitments included Braes Interfaith Ministries, Omega House (an AIDS hospice), Interfaith Care Partners, and the Livestock Committee of the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo. She was a member of Willow Meadows Baptist Church where she faithfully did whatever task needed to be done.
Known for her sense of humor, compassionate spirit, and practical approach to work and play, Carolyn was able to bring a lighter side to many of the serious issues connected to her volunteerism. Fifteen years ago, upon being told that hospice volunteers were needed for cooking, cleaning and patient care at Omega House, Carolyn quickly acknowledged that she would happily do the laundry but since she kept her cookbooks in her oven at home, she wouldn’t be cooking anywhere else either. At the church, her aversion to cooking prompted other volunteers to capture her one experience in the kitchen on film.
Upon hearing of her death, numerous friends and acquaintances began recounting their experiences with Carolyn’s selfless acts of befriending the outcast and recruiting of others to join her in her volunteer activities.
“Carolyn gave her life to service, caring for everyone but herself,” said her husband Bill. “You would never find a better friend. I could never have found a better partner.”
Carolyn is also survived by a sister, Mary Ann Knight of Garner, NC; two nieces Sheryl Holbrook and Donna Barefoot; a nephew Randal Hardesty; and close friend Buncy Nemec.
The funeral will take place Wednesday, June 23, at 10 a.m. at Willow Meadows Baptist Church, 4300 West Bellfort. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that donations be made to the church youth programs to scholarship youth activities.
Truly a sanitized version, the best things about Carolyn were her approach to doing good deeds, her aversion to cooking, her total disregard for anyone who didn't want her smoking in the church parking lot, her willingness to do ANYTHING except cook, the way she approached anyone she didn't know and made them her friend in minutes, and the way she never saw what might keep others from lending a hand -- dirty clothes and hair, a shady past/present, a furrowed brow that looked menacing -- and instead just treated humanity as humanity.
I, and many others, will miss her.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Saturday in Houston in June
The fan on my VW is belching hot air and hot air only. I can't make up my mind as to whether I should put the windows down where the temp is already near 90 before 9 a.m. or keep waiting for the cold air to come.
I drive the almost empty freeway to my workplace where I am greeted by similarly clad folks in campaign t-shirts. I'm thinking that this will be my last blockwalk and while that pleases me the thought of the next few hours does not. The interns have the situation well in hand and I await my marching orders. A volunteer (who came to us in the last campaign and worked as she subsequently got the news she had lymphoma and then began treatment) and I have four streets to cover in Bellaire.
We take her car.
The process of blockwalking is well thought out. I have a clipboard of papers for one side of the street. She has the other. We knock. We wait. We greet. We tell what we are doing. We offer the brochure. We smile and go to the next house. Simple.
I HATE IT!
Who wants to be bothered by politics on a Saturday morning? Especially when the election isn't until November and this is a hot day in June. I did encounter one woman eager to hear me and even though she votes the other ticket most of the time, seemed to be open to what I had to say. AND she offered me water.
Two hours into it and I'm wet all over. Now, not only would I not open the door to me, I would be fearful of the sight if I happened to check out my window!
Finally, we've covered the route and head back to the office. Then I head to my next gig -- babysitting.
Brian asked me to come over because he now has twins and a 2-year-old -- plus he's giving a party that afternoon. I get a quick orientation as the moment I enter there's crying and changing and feeding to be done. They are big dollops of cuteness and despite my lack of experience with small versions of humanity, I walk away without traumatizing anyone.
Next up is a phone call that lasts two hours. Interesting ... Intriguing ... Not enough to write about yet.
And finally I head to see what Fiona needs. She's a friend who is a on a similar journey of discovering the next thing for her life. I wind up filming her on a graveled path with a great view of the city behind her (this after trying a rooftop and then climbing through a stranger's window to check out her "patio" view). She does several takes describing her passion for equal rights, equal respect, and equal responsibility. Then we head for a brief catch up that turns into a lengthy discussion of options, possibilities, and passion.
I realize that passion is addictive. I love the fire it puts in someone's actions, the light it brings to their eyes, the sense of purpose it provides. I want passion in my life and I am beginning to realize that mine is ignited by others'.
Nice day in the life of me . . .
I drive the almost empty freeway to my workplace where I am greeted by similarly clad folks in campaign t-shirts. I'm thinking that this will be my last blockwalk and while that pleases me the thought of the next few hours does not. The interns have the situation well in hand and I await my marching orders. A volunteer (who came to us in the last campaign and worked as she subsequently got the news she had lymphoma and then began treatment) and I have four streets to cover in Bellaire.
We take her car.
The process of blockwalking is well thought out. I have a clipboard of papers for one side of the street. She has the other. We knock. We wait. We greet. We tell what we are doing. We offer the brochure. We smile and go to the next house. Simple.
I HATE IT!
Who wants to be bothered by politics on a Saturday morning? Especially when the election isn't until November and this is a hot day in June. I did encounter one woman eager to hear me and even though she votes the other ticket most of the time, seemed to be open to what I had to say. AND she offered me water.
Two hours into it and I'm wet all over. Now, not only would I not open the door to me, I would be fearful of the sight if I happened to check out my window!
Finally, we've covered the route and head back to the office. Then I head to my next gig -- babysitting.
Brian asked me to come over because he now has twins and a 2-year-old -- plus he's giving a party that afternoon. I get a quick orientation as the moment I enter there's crying and changing and feeding to be done. They are big dollops of cuteness and despite my lack of experience with small versions of humanity, I walk away without traumatizing anyone.
Next up is a phone call that lasts two hours. Interesting ... Intriguing ... Not enough to write about yet.
And finally I head to see what Fiona needs. She's a friend who is a on a similar journey of discovering the next thing for her life. I wind up filming her on a graveled path with a great view of the city behind her (this after trying a rooftop and then climbing through a stranger's window to check out her "patio" view). She does several takes describing her passion for equal rights, equal respect, and equal responsibility. Then we head for a brief catch up that turns into a lengthy discussion of options, possibilities, and passion.
I realize that passion is addictive. I love the fire it puts in someone's actions, the light it brings to their eyes, the sense of purpose it provides. I want passion in my life and I am beginning to realize that mine is ignited by others'.
Nice day in the life of me . . .
Friday, June 18, 2010
Hands in the Air, Anticipating the Ride
Experiential learner that I am, many of my aha moments are accompanied by "doing" metaphors. I illustrate the ying/yang of the art of leadership -- keeping the urgency taut as you move toward a vision while clearly understanding current reality -- as the motion of cross country skiing. These last few days I've been feeling the hills -- the strain of climbing, the anticipation, the release and pure joy -- of a roller coaster.
First I returned from not only a fun trip but a truly stimulating one. My time in London with friends/entrepreneurs there inspired me. I remembered how much I love helping a person of passion move toward achieving their dreams. The second day back I interviewed for a position with an organization where I have volunteered for 15 years. I enjoyed meeting the staff and could begin to see that it could really be a good match for me. I made the "cut" (5 candidates were simultaneously in this process) and met with board members the next day. At the conclusion of that one, a board member thanked me for my enthusiasm. I hadn't realized how long it had been since someone commented on that (used to be a fairly regular observation folks made about my presentations) and was optimistic but cautiously so. Seems my lack of the title on my resume for the position the director was seeking to fill continued to be a concern for him. He just didn't see how my church experiences would translate into a health non-profit fundraising and volunteer management role.
So yesterday, he called to tell me that they had gone a different direction. And honestly, I felt released. I wanted to work for a group who "got me", who could think outside the box and be ready to creatively answer questions that nagged them, who matched my passion and provided me a challenge and a playground for new ideas. If my lack of the title he wanted to see boxed him in, then that's not the place I want to be.
And if that realization weren't enough, I then got a call that a dear woman and one of the reasons I call Houston home, had died. Carolyn was an incredible force wrapped in a body that was 100 pounds possibly but only when wet. Her story will be another entry on another day when I can tell it without tearing up and jeopardizing the keyboard.
But truly, how can a concern over a career path even compare to the loss of a loved one. I called her husband Bill and simply said, "I love you and am praying" and I went to my next event with the knowledge that my chosen family here is incredible.
The event I attended for my current boss included doctors from the area. One couple heard me mention Tanzania and came back to talk. They've only been married two years. She ran a center for AIDS orphans in Namibia before coming here. I explained a bit about the work I'd done with the organization I'd known as Minnesota International Health Volunteers in 2008.
This morning I decided to see what MIHV was up to. For one thing, they've changed their name. Now Wellshare International they are currently looking for a Communications and Volunteer Manager. I sent my resume.
I've also sent my number to a friend who says her friend wants to introduce himself to me. No clue what that means except . . .
The anticipation begins again.
First I returned from not only a fun trip but a truly stimulating one. My time in London with friends/entrepreneurs there inspired me. I remembered how much I love helping a person of passion move toward achieving their dreams. The second day back I interviewed for a position with an organization where I have volunteered for 15 years. I enjoyed meeting the staff and could begin to see that it could really be a good match for me. I made the "cut" (5 candidates were simultaneously in this process) and met with board members the next day. At the conclusion of that one, a board member thanked me for my enthusiasm. I hadn't realized how long it had been since someone commented on that (used to be a fairly regular observation folks made about my presentations) and was optimistic but cautiously so. Seems my lack of the title on my resume for the position the director was seeking to fill continued to be a concern for him. He just didn't see how my church experiences would translate into a health non-profit fundraising and volunteer management role.
So yesterday, he called to tell me that they had gone a different direction. And honestly, I felt released. I wanted to work for a group who "got me", who could think outside the box and be ready to creatively answer questions that nagged them, who matched my passion and provided me a challenge and a playground for new ideas. If my lack of the title he wanted to see boxed him in, then that's not the place I want to be.
And if that realization weren't enough, I then got a call that a dear woman and one of the reasons I call Houston home, had died. Carolyn was an incredible force wrapped in a body that was 100 pounds possibly but only when wet. Her story will be another entry on another day when I can tell it without tearing up and jeopardizing the keyboard.
But truly, how can a concern over a career path even compare to the loss of a loved one. I called her husband Bill and simply said, "I love you and am praying" and I went to my next event with the knowledge that my chosen family here is incredible.
The event I attended for my current boss included doctors from the area. One couple heard me mention Tanzania and came back to talk. They've only been married two years. She ran a center for AIDS orphans in Namibia before coming here. I explained a bit about the work I'd done with the organization I'd known as Minnesota International Health Volunteers in 2008.
This morning I decided to see what MIHV was up to. For one thing, they've changed their name. Now Wellshare International they are currently looking for a Communications and Volunteer Manager. I sent my resume.
I've also sent my number to a friend who says her friend wants to introduce himself to me. No clue what that means except . . .
The anticipation begins again.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Paris/London Postings: Written Two Days after Arriving Home
Though I worked at least six days out of the 12 we were gone, I absolutely loved this vacation. The work allowed me to remember who I am, what I ought to be doing, and I was able to give the gift of time to friends I love. The reward was their gratitude and some of the most incredible sites (some not listed on any tourist map, some only highlighted in a footnote, and some that fall into the category of "must see").
Rather than offer up a day to day narrative, I'll provide a list of images and sensations:
- the English version should be the picture beside the definition for "rolling countryside"
- pub life cannot be compared to dropping by a bar in the U.S. . . . there's a whole culture that we don't come near to reproducing, plus the drinks aren't nearly as expensive
- when a bride and groom are both artists, their dreams of a wedding are like no other ... so if you are picking up the responsibility of ensuring those dreams are realized, it's good to get all the details before the other help start arriving
- jam jars and tea cups make for delightful drinks at an afternoon reception but removing almost 100 labels is a rather sticky job
- transforming a 500+year-old-hall into a meeting room/dining room/dance hall takes all hands on deck and it's great when many of those hands are artistic
- I'll never be able to produce dove bunting the way Rob can
- I'll never see a bride as romantically attired and beaming quite as brightly as Aimie was
- I love it when people who love to cook all wind up in a big kitchen together ... when the accents are Irish, French Canadian, Indian, Philadelphian, British, and Texan, it's even more fun
- When asked to prepare food for such an eclectic crowd be prepared to be asked if this, that and the other thing are gluten free ... several times ... with increasing levels of frustration on the part of the gluten free eater that you can do nothing for (other than suggest they eat the items that are obviously sans gluten)
- Never underestimate the ability of a Brit to hold his margarita, whiskey sour, Proseco, bellini, and wine. Amazing fortitude!
- An English countryside "hill" is a Texas mountain ... when climbing up it, take note and walk with the woman with the cane because you look good for "helping" and you are allowed to stop and breathe without looking like a fat wimp
- Weddings planned by spiritual artists who love visual and word art as well as the theater are quite spectacular
- You probably can't imagine but you may want to try ... on top of a high and windy grassy opening, overlooking rolling countryside which make their way to the sea ... all in view as the vows are exchanged
- Items included in the service: sticks transformed into wands which form an archway through which the women walk through, oil from the Holy Land, binding cloth, bread/wine, a girl wearing her fairy wings and a boy clad in a kilt to deliver the rings, a dog running through the circle that surrounded the couple and an embarrassed teen apologizing, biodegradable dove balloons released, and audience participation
- When the hall is stone and includes a smoke-stained Rueben, there's pretty good bones for a breathtakingly beautiful dining experience but add in garland and wildflowers, glass decanters and tealights, and 90 friends and family and it's beyond description
- Brits like written speeches rather than toasts at their weddings
- 1st course: lentil soup; 2nd: meat/veg/gluten free pies with 5 salads served family style; 3rd: cheescake for all and choices of 8 homemade cakes (including 3 which were gluten free)
- The barn dance reminded me of contra dancing ... and Rob and Aimie's friends like to spin . . . a lot
- Releasing biodegradable Chinese lanterns toward the stars . . . WOW
- The realization that the hired help had put in a 14 hour day and I had shared overseeing duties for at least 17 as I made my way to bed
- Listening to the sound of storytelling and singing by the fire through my open window . . . completely spent but pleased at having given the gift of peace of mind to my friends.
Rather than offer up a day to day narrative, I'll provide a list of images and sensations:
- the English version should be the picture beside the definition for "rolling countryside"
- pub life cannot be compared to dropping by a bar in the U.S. . . . there's a whole culture that we don't come near to reproducing, plus the drinks aren't nearly as expensive
- when a bride and groom are both artists, their dreams of a wedding are like no other ... so if you are picking up the responsibility of ensuring those dreams are realized, it's good to get all the details before the other help start arriving
- jam jars and tea cups make for delightful drinks at an afternoon reception but removing almost 100 labels is a rather sticky job
- transforming a 500+year-old-hall into a meeting room/dining room/dance hall takes all hands on deck and it's great when many of those hands are artistic
- I'll never be able to produce dove bunting the way Rob can
- I'll never see a bride as romantically attired and beaming quite as brightly as Aimie was
- I love it when people who love to cook all wind up in a big kitchen together ... when the accents are Irish, French Canadian, Indian, Philadelphian, British, and Texan, it's even more fun
- When asked to prepare food for such an eclectic crowd be prepared to be asked if this, that and the other thing are gluten free ... several times ... with increasing levels of frustration on the part of the gluten free eater that you can do nothing for (other than suggest they eat the items that are obviously sans gluten)
- Never underestimate the ability of a Brit to hold his margarita, whiskey sour, Proseco, bellini, and wine. Amazing fortitude!
- An English countryside "hill" is a Texas mountain ... when climbing up it, take note and walk with the woman with the cane because you look good for "helping" and you are allowed to stop and breathe without looking like a fat wimp
- Weddings planned by spiritual artists who love visual and word art as well as the theater are quite spectacular
- You probably can't imagine but you may want to try ... on top of a high and windy grassy opening, overlooking rolling countryside which make their way to the sea ... all in view as the vows are exchanged
- Items included in the service: sticks transformed into wands which form an archway through which the women walk through, oil from the Holy Land, binding cloth, bread/wine, a girl wearing her fairy wings and a boy clad in a kilt to deliver the rings, a dog running through the circle that surrounded the couple and an embarrassed teen apologizing, biodegradable dove balloons released, and audience participation
- When the hall is stone and includes a smoke-stained Rueben, there's pretty good bones for a breathtakingly beautiful dining experience but add in garland and wildflowers, glass decanters and tealights, and 90 friends and family and it's beyond description
- Brits like written speeches rather than toasts at their weddings
- 1st course: lentil soup; 2nd: meat/veg/gluten free pies with 5 salads served family style; 3rd: cheescake for all and choices of 8 homemade cakes (including 3 which were gluten free)
- The barn dance reminded me of contra dancing ... and Rob and Aimie's friends like to spin . . . a lot
- Releasing biodegradable Chinese lanterns toward the stars . . . WOW
- The realization that the hired help had put in a 14 hour day and I had shared overseeing duties for at least 17 as I made my way to bed
- Listening to the sound of storytelling and singing by the fire through my open window . . . completely spent but pleased at having given the gift of peace of mind to my friends.
Paris/London Postings: Written as Email Update to Family
Thought I would at least tell you that I am alive and very well in London. Roger and I had not one single international incident while we were in Paris! We found our apartment (small though it may have been) and it was in a 300 year old building with a window overlooking a charming courtyard. Within minutes of arriving, Roger made friends with the chef at the restaurant beside us and he not only gave us water (we were a little surprised by the heat), his wife/partner allowed us to leave on bags at their flat when we had to vacate our place on the last day.
We took in all the iconic structures of Paris -- on foot, on bike, by bus, and by boat. We learned the Metro and were able to traverse from the highest hill to the highest building. We fell in love with our bike tour guide who gave us the best tip of the trip -- an entrance into the Louvre that had NO lines on the free day. While the rest of Paris stood in the sun in a entrance line that was at least the size of a football field, we walked right in, took two flights to the Mona Lisa, went into the catacombs to see the Roman antiquities and were back out on the streets in less than an hour. I know that some of you probably think we should have spent the day there but we had miles to go before we could say we had seen and done Paris.
Thanks to great input from my buddy Jocelyn, we were well prepared for the food situation and enjoyed light and inexpensive fare while we were there.
The train ride to London allowed us to meet an interesting woman now living in London but originally from Morocco. A Muslim, a teacher of French, and brilliant conversationalist, Roger and I enjoyed her immensely.
When we arrived at the airport, Rob and Aimie were waving giddily and had flowers for us. We hugged and kissed and hugged some more then they went south to the wedding location and we got in the cab they set up for us and headed to Shannon's. She was finishing off a chicken marsalis and quinoa dish that was delicious. We slept well and on Monday I worked with her and her team while simultaneously biking to some of her favorite spots. Roger took the Big Red Bus to lots of different tourist attractions. We met up for drinks at the city's oldest pub and sat in a cave lit only by candles. We then headed back to her neighborhood and enjoyed live music with members of her team and then prepared a healthy salmon and veggie dinner.
Today, Roger took a boat ride as Shannon and I worked on more strategy. We have a park to visit and some Indian curry to enjoy before the day is out. Tomorrow we head south to Devon to meet up with folks for the wedding. We are looking forward to making homemade salsa for 90 people as part of our requested contribution to the weekend -- that and talking Southern so all the couple's friends can enjoy our accents.
So that's it for now. Love to all. Cathey and Kelly, please share with Mom.
We took in all the iconic structures of Paris -- on foot, on bike, by bus, and by boat. We learned the Metro and were able to traverse from the highest hill to the highest building. We fell in love with our bike tour guide who gave us the best tip of the trip -- an entrance into the Louvre that had NO lines on the free day. While the rest of Paris stood in the sun in a entrance line that was at least the size of a football field, we walked right in, took two flights to the Mona Lisa, went into the catacombs to see the Roman antiquities and were back out on the streets in less than an hour. I know that some of you probably think we should have spent the day there but we had miles to go before we could say we had seen and done Paris.
Thanks to great input from my buddy Jocelyn, we were well prepared for the food situation and enjoyed light and inexpensive fare while we were there.
The train ride to London allowed us to meet an interesting woman now living in London but originally from Morocco. A Muslim, a teacher of French, and brilliant conversationalist, Roger and I enjoyed her immensely.
When we arrived at the airport, Rob and Aimie were waving giddily and had flowers for us. We hugged and kissed and hugged some more then they went south to the wedding location and we got in the cab they set up for us and headed to Shannon's. She was finishing off a chicken marsalis and quinoa dish that was delicious. We slept well and on Monday I worked with her and her team while simultaneously biking to some of her favorite spots. Roger took the Big Red Bus to lots of different tourist attractions. We met up for drinks at the city's oldest pub and sat in a cave lit only by candles. We then headed back to her neighborhood and enjoyed live music with members of her team and then prepared a healthy salmon and veggie dinner.
Today, Roger took a boat ride as Shannon and I worked on more strategy. We have a park to visit and some Indian curry to enjoy before the day is out. Tomorrow we head south to Devon to meet up with folks for the wedding. We are looking forward to making homemade salsa for 90 people as part of our requested contribution to the weekend -- that and talking Southern so all the couple's friends can enjoy our accents.
So that's it for now. Love to all. Cathey and Kelly, please share with Mom.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Pre-Vacation Ramblings
Ever met one of those all-or-nothing-kids? Usually a phase, they focus on one item of clothing, food, or action. For instance, they can't go out without their scarf -- even if it's 90 degrees. Or they must have peanut butter for breakfast every day.
I don't recall being that fixated as a child. But I have grown into some peculiarities as an adult.
Like an artist in his blue period, I have had months of PBJ starts to my day. Lately, I've started the mornings with the ritual -- Facebook Scrabble, email check, enter two online sweepstakes, check the job openings. Every day, the same.
Even this blog comes in phases.
Not sure if there's a direct correlation but a good therapist might point out that my tendency to dwell and then move on explains my relational tendencies. If you are in my life, you are central, critical, foremost. But when you're not, you're not. No worries. No anger, No pain. Just here and then gone. Perhaps it's why I understand the news of a 40 year marriage in the public eye now ending. Life goes on and sometimes in different directions.
Sometimes balance is better and striving for more would be advisable. But the ebb and flow have taken me to some pretty radical places (both figuratively and literally) through the years. However, I'm pretty excited about a bit of change coming my way. I KNOW that the feeling of being trapped has caused me to make some pretty unhealthy choices in the last year. So I'm ready to breakaway, to startle myself, to redeem the childlike wonder.
Now ... where did I put my scarf?
I don't recall being that fixated as a child. But I have grown into some peculiarities as an adult.
Like an artist in his blue period, I have had months of PBJ starts to my day. Lately, I've started the mornings with the ritual -- Facebook Scrabble, email check, enter two online sweepstakes, check the job openings. Every day, the same.
Even this blog comes in phases.
Not sure if there's a direct correlation but a good therapist might point out that my tendency to dwell and then move on explains my relational tendencies. If you are in my life, you are central, critical, foremost. But when you're not, you're not. No worries. No anger, No pain. Just here and then gone. Perhaps it's why I understand the news of a 40 year marriage in the public eye now ending. Life goes on and sometimes in different directions.
Sometimes balance is better and striving for more would be advisable. But the ebb and flow have taken me to some pretty radical places (both figuratively and literally) through the years. However, I'm pretty excited about a bit of change coming my way. I KNOW that the feeling of being trapped has caused me to make some pretty unhealthy choices in the last year. So I'm ready to breakaway, to startle myself, to redeem the childlike wonder.
Now ... where did I put my scarf?
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Puttin On the RRRRITZ
Do good and good comes back to you. Most days I live that. Now, mind you, I don't do good things ONLY because I want good returned to me. I simply have seen the truth of the statement over and over again.
Last night is an example. I volunteered with the Bayou City Arts Festival a couple of months ago. Previously, I was a "day-of volunteer" but this year I upped the ante and dedicated a few vacation days to learning what the Artist Support Committee was all about. I had an incredible experience and met some very nice folks.
One of those hard-working individuals was a staffer. Kelly is in charge of many things -- including my committee. Last week she asked if I wanted to be her guest at a performance of Young Frankenstein. They had gotten some tickets and were sharing the bounty.
Of course, I said yes. Not so much because I'm all about the musical but it sounded like a fun night and it included an after party with the cast.
The musical is pure Mel Brooks. That being said, if you like him, you'll like the musical. If burlesque isn't your thing, don't go. The fun part for me was remembering all the great performances from the movie. 'Cause, really, everything is just a caricature when the original nailed it the first time.
I spent the whole night feeling like I was in the middle of a series of jokes where the teller keeps saying, "Wait for it... wait for it" and then the payoff came time and time again. Frankestein's dance with the top hat and the shouted line, the big knockers, the moving hump on the back, and of course ... Oh sweet mystery of life.
Perhaps it's not such a mystery but I'm glad I found that positive things we do with good intentions can surprise us with their results. I didn't expect a night on the town when I offered a weekend of my time. I didn't know that good friends and interesting new stories would introduce themselves. I just did what needed doing.
That's the good life.
Last night is an example. I volunteered with the Bayou City Arts Festival a couple of months ago. Previously, I was a "day-of volunteer" but this year I upped the ante and dedicated a few vacation days to learning what the Artist Support Committee was all about. I had an incredible experience and met some very nice folks.
One of those hard-working individuals was a staffer. Kelly is in charge of many things -- including my committee. Last week she asked if I wanted to be her guest at a performance of Young Frankenstein. They had gotten some tickets and were sharing the bounty.
Of course, I said yes. Not so much because I'm all about the musical but it sounded like a fun night and it included an after party with the cast.
The musical is pure Mel Brooks. That being said, if you like him, you'll like the musical. If burlesque isn't your thing, don't go. The fun part for me was remembering all the great performances from the movie. 'Cause, really, everything is just a caricature when the original nailed it the first time.
I spent the whole night feeling like I was in the middle of a series of jokes where the teller keeps saying, "Wait for it... wait for it" and then the payoff came time and time again. Frankestein's dance with the top hat and the shouted line, the big knockers, the moving hump on the back, and of course ... Oh sweet mystery of life.
Perhaps it's not such a mystery but I'm glad I found that positive things we do with good intentions can surprise us with their results. I didn't expect a night on the town when I offered a weekend of my time. I didn't know that good friends and interesting new stories would introduce themselves. I just did what needed doing.
That's the good life.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Still learning ....
Once the line in the sand was "Where were you when Kennedy was assassinated?" I was in my 20s then and the women with whom I worked would speak of the 60s and early 70s as formative years for their youth/young adulthood. I knew I was but a child and had much to learn because the answer to the question for me was "in a crib."
Now I've become the woman on the other side of the new timeline (though the question varies and is not nearly as dramatic, there's still some point in history that reminds me, "OMG, they don't remember _________" .... and maybe it's when we didn't speak in OMGscript). I spent today with some incredible young adults and I smiled when I realized they were listening to me and working alongside me just as I had my mentors almost 25 years ago. In fact, most of the people in the office today weren't born when I first got into the professional realm.
I thought that when my turn to be the "sage" came due, I'd be bothered by my age. I'm not. I celebrate it. I've managed to do a lot of living and pack in an incredible variety of experiences in a little over two decades. I might wish my curves weren't multiplying and my skin wasn't sagging but other than that ... I'm all good.
So I'm wondering what lessons I've learned that I'd like to pass on to my newest recruits in the "I have to work with Karen so I might as well make the best of it" team. I'm thinking . . .
- When you suspect that life sucks, realize you've got your hand on the air valve. Change is always possible; maybe not practical but definitely possible.
- Go somewhere where they don't eat like you do and chow down. Then, if you must know, ask what you just ate. You'll be a better person for culinary adventures outside your culture. And if getting to that table involved a plane ticket, you get extra points.
- Don't commit to a career; find a path. I am so glad that one day I realized I was more than my resume.
- Grace isn't just a word in an amazing song. Grace offered on a regular basis will forge friendships that feed your own soul. Hard thing is releasing the right to judge quickly and hold grudges. Reward is that grace can be both given and received.
- Keep laughing.
Don't know if I should start making t-shirts or cross-stitching on pillows or if maybe that's not a bad start to some lessons I need to capture in some form. But since countdown-to-the-next-version-of-me has now begun I thought I would at least remind myself of why I like me.
Now I've become the woman on the other side of the new timeline (though the question varies and is not nearly as dramatic, there's still some point in history that reminds me, "OMG, they don't remember _________" .... and maybe it's when we didn't speak in OMGscript). I spent today with some incredible young adults and I smiled when I realized they were listening to me and working alongside me just as I had my mentors almost 25 years ago. In fact, most of the people in the office today weren't born when I first got into the professional realm.
I thought that when my turn to be the "sage" came due, I'd be bothered by my age. I'm not. I celebrate it. I've managed to do a lot of living and pack in an incredible variety of experiences in a little over two decades. I might wish my curves weren't multiplying and my skin wasn't sagging but other than that ... I'm all good.
So I'm wondering what lessons I've learned that I'd like to pass on to my newest recruits in the "I have to work with Karen so I might as well make the best of it" team. I'm thinking . . .
- When you suspect that life sucks, realize you've got your hand on the air valve. Change is always possible; maybe not practical but definitely possible.
- Go somewhere where they don't eat like you do and chow down. Then, if you must know, ask what you just ate. You'll be a better person for culinary adventures outside your culture. And if getting to that table involved a plane ticket, you get extra points.
- Don't commit to a career; find a path. I am so glad that one day I realized I was more than my resume.
- Grace isn't just a word in an amazing song. Grace offered on a regular basis will forge friendships that feed your own soul. Hard thing is releasing the right to judge quickly and hold grudges. Reward is that grace can be both given and received.
- Keep laughing.
Don't know if I should start making t-shirts or cross-stitching on pillows or if maybe that's not a bad start to some lessons I need to capture in some form. But since countdown-to-the-next-version-of-me has now begun I thought I would at least remind myself of why I like me.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Sweet Notion
Last night I attended an event focusing on "up-cycling" rather than recycling with proceeds going to social change. The group -- Sweet Notions -- is on to something. They do what they do with high quality, even though some of the donations don't always look that way when first received. They also have a conscience and a plan to ethically make an impact on lives and the environment. (Here's their link ... http://www.sweetnotions.org/)
I'm having a sweet notion moment in my own life. I will soon be upcycling my skill set and embarking on a new career path. I want to pursue development at a non-profit. Trouble is ... just as some of the potential guests I tried to explain the evening to only heard "donated jewelry", thought "chains-a-la-Madonna, circa 1985" and couldn't fathom the beautiful art old broaches and belts can become in the right artist's hands ... so goes it with trying to translate the two decades of experience I've had in the church world to execs and HR folks in my new targeted work realm.
My new notion is to start offering my services on a trial run. "Satisfaction guaranteed in 60 days" with no commitment required. Seems to me I could show my stuff in 60 days.
The irony in much of my hunting to date ... and I've been out there, believe me, is that most of the groups I'm applying with make specific mention of faith communities as being part of their target audience. Wouldn't a former communications consultant TO churches make sense then?
So if anyone is out there still reading this from time to time, and if you are so inclined to pray/think positive thoughts/pitch my plea out to the Universe, then I think that is a very sweet notion and thank you in advance.
And by the way ... once I'm no longer tied to the very public realm as I am now (i.e. when I no longer work for the state's best representative but in a job that is not quite right for me) I will return to a more frequent updating of this blog.
I'm having a sweet notion moment in my own life. I will soon be upcycling my skill set and embarking on a new career path. I want to pursue development at a non-profit. Trouble is ... just as some of the potential guests I tried to explain the evening to only heard "donated jewelry", thought "chains-a-la-Madonna, circa 1985" and couldn't fathom the beautiful art old broaches and belts can become in the right artist's hands ... so goes it with trying to translate the two decades of experience I've had in the church world to execs and HR folks in my new targeted work realm.
My new notion is to start offering my services on a trial run. "Satisfaction guaranteed in 60 days" with no commitment required. Seems to me I could show my stuff in 60 days.
The irony in much of my hunting to date ... and I've been out there, believe me, is that most of the groups I'm applying with make specific mention of faith communities as being part of their target audience. Wouldn't a former communications consultant TO churches make sense then?
So if anyone is out there still reading this from time to time, and if you are so inclined to pray/think positive thoughts/pitch my plea out to the Universe, then I think that is a very sweet notion and thank you in advance.
And by the way ... once I'm no longer tied to the very public realm as I am now (i.e. when I no longer work for the state's best representative but in a job that is not quite right for me) I will return to a more frequent updating of this blog.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
New Vision to Pull Me Forward
I want to open up a place in a community frequented by travelers and call it "The State of Grace." All who enter will know that they are welcome and will be heard and well fed.
I'm now contemplating the decor. License plates come to mind. Wonder what our State plates could look like? Hmmmm . . .
More to come.
I'm now contemplating the decor. License plates come to mind. Wonder what our State plates could look like? Hmmmm . . .
More to come.
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Dream Dies but Hope Remains
The dream home will not be mine.
I visualized it. Meditated on it. Imagined it for the greater good. But alas, if the New Mexico prize HGTV is giving away were mine, I would have had a call by now. The reveal of the new owner is this week and since no camera crew is at my door to tape my astonished expression upon hearing the news, the news, for me, is not good.
Still, the hope generated by living within the dream remains. I hope for something better. This morning I probably went so far as fantasizing when I read of an artist who, because of a spouse's income, was able to give up a paying position to stay at home with her child and in so doing discovered the artist within herself and now has a different, self-prioritizing career. I must confess that there are times when the fact that there is no socially acceptable or financially viable reason/way for me to quit my job, stay home, and create is just a bit tedious for me. But then I recall the number of parents I know who are ready to trade in their teens for a new model and the number of husbands/wives who feel trapped and I know that my life is my life and I'll find my way.
If folklore is based in some reality, the "in between" places are filled with trolls and darkness that can easily overwhelm. Doorways, window sills, and the midnight hour are those locations and times in between where the unseen can cause havoc. But there is invisible good at play as well says the story books -- fairies and light ready to provide a glimmer of hope. I choose to focus on the fairy dust possibilities as I live in my "in between" state at the moment. Some days I battle with the trollish babble of "you're stuck," "you've lost your edge," "you can't always enjoy what you do to make a living, but you have to do something." But for the most part, I keep pushing toward the light and the call of "you have much to offer," "you can make a difference," "listen to your drum and keep marching."
So here I sit in a home I love because of what's inside it, ready to share with any friend in need, and take a moment to remember that every day of life, love, and laughter is a day when I can easily declare myself a winner.
I visualized it. Meditated on it. Imagined it for the greater good. But alas, if the New Mexico prize HGTV is giving away were mine, I would have had a call by now. The reveal of the new owner is this week and since no camera crew is at my door to tape my astonished expression upon hearing the news, the news, for me, is not good.
Still, the hope generated by living within the dream remains. I hope for something better. This morning I probably went so far as fantasizing when I read of an artist who, because of a spouse's income, was able to give up a paying position to stay at home with her child and in so doing discovered the artist within herself and now has a different, self-prioritizing career. I must confess that there are times when the fact that there is no socially acceptable or financially viable reason/way for me to quit my job, stay home, and create is just a bit tedious for me. But then I recall the number of parents I know who are ready to trade in their teens for a new model and the number of husbands/wives who feel trapped and I know that my life is my life and I'll find my way.
If folklore is based in some reality, the "in between" places are filled with trolls and darkness that can easily overwhelm. Doorways, window sills, and the midnight hour are those locations and times in between where the unseen can cause havoc. But there is invisible good at play as well says the story books -- fairies and light ready to provide a glimmer of hope. I choose to focus on the fairy dust possibilities as I live in my "in between" state at the moment. Some days I battle with the trollish babble of "you're stuck," "you've lost your edge," "you can't always enjoy what you do to make a living, but you have to do something." But for the most part, I keep pushing toward the light and the call of "you have much to offer," "you can make a difference," "listen to your drum and keep marching."
So here I sit in a home I love because of what's inside it, ready to share with any friend in need, and take a moment to remember that every day of life, love, and laughter is a day when I can easily declare myself a winner.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Confessions of a Confused Mourner
My friend called me late one night this week to tell me that the young woman in the news who was killed in an early morning collision was the waitress that took care of him and his buddies on their semi-regular breakfast gatherings at a local diner. She was in her 30s, he thought, and had just dropped off her two kids and was heading to work when the wreck occurred.
Tonight, while reading Facebook status updates, I learned that another mother of two small boys had passed away. She was an incredibly creative woman, volunteering untold hours to create photographic inspirational journals of mission trips, pouring her wisdom into her children, and supporting her equally gifted husband -- all from a wheelchair, or bed, or feeble stance because arthritis robbed her of ease of mobility.
I am not a mother. Never have been, never will be. But today I felt the incredible joy of having a three-year-old hold me tightly as we spun around until we were both so dizzy the world kept spinning even when we stopped. She loved every rotation and, even as she weaved and held my pants leg to steady herself, held up her hands to me, and demanded, "Do it again, KK. Do it again." Because I love her and the giggles our merry-go-rounding produced, I complied, and complied, and complied.
Later, I was overwhelmed with emotion as this precious bundle laid her head on my shoulder when she was momentarily overtaken by a coughing spurt and I comforted and quieted her. She held on that time with no doubt that I would be there for her and, secure in that knowledge ,she raised her head up, took my face in her small hands, and kissed me.
My brief experience today made the news of the loss of these two women even more confusing.
Children surrounded by love are fearless in their expectations. Children expect mothers to drop them off and be back to pick them up, to be behind the camera and in the photos, to comfort their ills and cause their laughter.
These are not unrealistic expectations.
Tonight, while reading Facebook status updates, I learned that another mother of two small boys had passed away. She was an incredibly creative woman, volunteering untold hours to create photographic inspirational journals of mission trips, pouring her wisdom into her children, and supporting her equally gifted husband -- all from a wheelchair, or bed, or feeble stance because arthritis robbed her of ease of mobility.
I am not a mother. Never have been, never will be. But today I felt the incredible joy of having a three-year-old hold me tightly as we spun around until we were both so dizzy the world kept spinning even when we stopped. She loved every rotation and, even as she weaved and held my pants leg to steady herself, held up her hands to me, and demanded, "Do it again, KK. Do it again." Because I love her and the giggles our merry-go-rounding produced, I complied, and complied, and complied.
Later, I was overwhelmed with emotion as this precious bundle laid her head on my shoulder when she was momentarily overtaken by a coughing spurt and I comforted and quieted her. She held on that time with no doubt that I would be there for her and, secure in that knowledge ,she raised her head up, took my face in her small hands, and kissed me.
My brief experience today made the news of the loss of these two women even more confusing.
Children surrounded by love are fearless in their expectations. Children expect mothers to drop them off and be back to pick them up, to be behind the camera and in the photos, to comfort their ills and cause their laughter.
These are not unrealistic expectations.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Things that Made Me Smile Today
-- From someone's Facebook status: Women are angels. And when someone breaks our wings...we simply... continue to fly... on a broomstick. We are flexible.
--Saw a sign at the neighborhood supermarket indicating "pork shoulder butts" were on sale and wondered why I had never before wondered about that particular anatomical perversion.
--My friend texting me after she heard my sqeaky voice (due to cold) and the two of us deciding my Muppet name should be Snotty Spice
--Everyone's reaction to calls from the District Director for the State Representative (that would be me) calling on official business today and sounding like a Muppet or Munchkin or
--Saw a sign at the neighborhood supermarket indicating "pork shoulder butts" were on sale and wondered why I had never before wondered about that particular anatomical perversion.
--My friend texting me after she heard my sqeaky voice (due to cold) and the two of us deciding my Muppet name should be Snotty Spice
--Everyone's reaction to calls from the District Director for the State Representative (that would be me) calling on official business today and sounding like a Muppet or Munchkin or
Monday, February 01, 2010
I'm a Sap ... but I've also been sick so forgive me
I cried.
Booth and Bones were expecting nothing less than a horrible Christmas. Booth's son was heading to the mountains with his ex. Bones' dad is in prison. Even though she arranges for the "conjugal" trailer to be used by her brother, his wife, their kids, and her dad, she was going to Peru for an anthropological study. But even the trailer is a bust because they can have it but no decorations.
There's also a body and a killer and blah, blah, blah.
But the last scene got me. Booth's son doesn't go to the mountains and they get Christmas day together with "two trees." We don't know what that means. Cut to Bones who doesn't go to Peru and is in the trailer with the fam. Bones calls and tells her he and his son want to give her present to her. She says, "Later." And he says, "Look out the window."
There Booth and his son stand beside a Christmas tree with multicolored lights plugged into the car battery.
I cried.
Some day some one is going to know me well enough to know that that simple act would have made it the best Christmas ever for someone like me.
Until then ... I cry. Sappy, I know.
Booth and Bones were expecting nothing less than a horrible Christmas. Booth's son was heading to the mountains with his ex. Bones' dad is in prison. Even though she arranges for the "conjugal" trailer to be used by her brother, his wife, their kids, and her dad, she was going to Peru for an anthropological study. But even the trailer is a bust because they can have it but no decorations.
There's also a body and a killer and blah, blah, blah.
But the last scene got me. Booth's son doesn't go to the mountains and they get Christmas day together with "two trees." We don't know what that means. Cut to Bones who doesn't go to Peru and is in the trailer with the fam. Bones calls and tells her he and his son want to give her present to her. She says, "Later." And he says, "Look out the window."
There Booth and his son stand beside a Christmas tree with multicolored lights plugged into the car battery.
I cried.
Some day some one is going to know me well enough to know that that simple act would have made it the best Christmas ever for someone like me.
Until then ... I cry. Sappy, I know.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Lost and Found
I'm not sure why Evangelicals get so upset with Dan Brown. (Then again, I'm not sure why most ardent believers get upset with anything that upsets them. If they truly believe God is in control, then maybe chilling out a bit would be an act of faith.) If anything, they and the Masons should thank the author of The Da Vinci Code and The Lost Symbol. He's made belief seem kinda cool.
The Masons should especially write him a thank you note. They couldn't have produced a better recruitment flyer than Brown's most recent work of fiction. Sure the bad guy infiltrates the ranks of the highest order but all the other secret-holding, fear-defying followers are successful, stoic, and seemingly brilliant. Since I only know of one Mason in my sphere of friends and he has held up his end of the bargain by remaining mum on the subject, I'm here to tell you that I was intrigued by what few insights I was offered. I'd think about joining ... oh wait, I can't. That whole "fraternal" deal and all. (Hmmm....guess that's a blog for another day.)
So back to the pros of the book. Early on in its pages, we're introduced to the idea that one can scientifically prove the power of prayer exists. Karen's translation is as follows: Like sands on a beach, each one having mass and therefore gravitational pull, so can thoughts have mass and if the collective is large enough can affect a gravitational pull or cause an action to occur. At one point (and seemingly for no point other than to make this point), they even measure the weight of a soul! So making old Dan out to be the big bad seems silly to me. He's saying, "Hey folks, there might be something here! And wait, I can prove it!" Of course, that just plays havoc with faith and believing in that which you cannot see IF you measure the importance of it all in how much faith you have rather than in what you put your faith in.
Ok, so it is a work of fiction ... something all the naysayers seemed to have a hard time coming to terms with when the Code was released. But frankly, in the Symbol, when we get the lowdown on the number 33 and the fact that we have 33 vertebrae linked to the sacrum (or sacred bone) well, my first thought was that will preach! Hello? Your body as a temple? How come I've never heard that in a sermon before?
I think the answer to that and to the underlying issue here rests partially on our great desire to want to believe in something bigger than what we can imagine and our utter fear that we won't ever get our heads around it. I love symbols and rituals and the suggestion that there is more here than meets the eye. And I gave up trying to be the smartest person in the class a long time ago. I'm deeply satisfied with not having answers. I'm even happier when I hear someone ask a question I would never have thought to ask. All this "unknowing" makes me know that there exists something far beyond me and rather than feel lost, instead, I'm most definitely found.
The Masons should especially write him a thank you note. They couldn't have produced a better recruitment flyer than Brown's most recent work of fiction. Sure the bad guy infiltrates the ranks of the highest order but all the other secret-holding, fear-defying followers are successful, stoic, and seemingly brilliant. Since I only know of one Mason in my sphere of friends and he has held up his end of the bargain by remaining mum on the subject, I'm here to tell you that I was intrigued by what few insights I was offered. I'd think about joining ... oh wait, I can't. That whole "fraternal" deal and all. (Hmmm....guess that's a blog for another day.)
So back to the pros of the book. Early on in its pages, we're introduced to the idea that one can scientifically prove the power of prayer exists. Karen's translation is as follows: Like sands on a beach, each one having mass and therefore gravitational pull, so can thoughts have mass and if the collective is large enough can affect a gravitational pull or cause an action to occur. At one point (and seemingly for no point other than to make this point), they even measure the weight of a soul! So making old Dan out to be the big bad seems silly to me. He's saying, "Hey folks, there might be something here! And wait, I can prove it!" Of course, that just plays havoc with faith and believing in that which you cannot see IF you measure the importance of it all in how much faith you have rather than in what you put your faith in.
Ok, so it is a work of fiction ... something all the naysayers seemed to have a hard time coming to terms with when the Code was released. But frankly, in the Symbol, when we get the lowdown on the number 33 and the fact that we have 33 vertebrae linked to the sacrum (or sacred bone) well, my first thought was that will preach! Hello? Your body as a temple? How come I've never heard that in a sermon before?
I think the answer to that and to the underlying issue here rests partially on our great desire to want to believe in something bigger than what we can imagine and our utter fear that we won't ever get our heads around it. I love symbols and rituals and the suggestion that there is more here than meets the eye. And I gave up trying to be the smartest person in the class a long time ago. I'm deeply satisfied with not having answers. I'm even happier when I hear someone ask a question I would never have thought to ask. All this "unknowing" makes me know that there exists something far beyond me and rather than feel lost, instead, I'm most definitely found.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Congested TV
I've been sick for three days. This post is not a complaint however. All I have to do is read the paper and see a photo from Haiti and I silence my cough and say a word of gratitude that there's a pharmacy nearby and soup in my fridge.
So what am I doing on a Friday night posting about not complaining about being sick?
I'm watching bad television. Actually, the shows haven't been that bad. Medium intrigues me and Numbers is pretty cool with geeky eye candy. But what's caught my eye today/tonight are the commercials.
--Michael Jackson in 3D at the Grammys. Really? I get having yet another tribute to him since he was a musical presence for so long, but his music isn't enough? We need 3D?
--Texas is promoting voter registration and they have a young woman in a school hallway saying, "My kids asked me if I was going to vote. Duh!? I'm a teacher ..." She lost me at Duh. She really lost me when she added that she didn't know if she was registered.
--Other than Eric Clapton looking really, really old, why should I look twice at the new Fender phone?
--The new McDonalds series featuring sexy people talking sexy to a sandwich, skinny models eyeing the male clothes horse because he's eating a wrap? That's the draw? He's cute and broke, girls! Or else he'd be eating at the Olive Garden!
--The attack of the Wheat Thins ... a male version and a female version ... both of them bite.
Many commercials are movie shorts -- creative and enticing. Others are like the phlegm in my chest I can't get rid of.
So what am I doing on a Friday night posting about not complaining about being sick?
I'm watching bad television. Actually, the shows haven't been that bad. Medium intrigues me and Numbers is pretty cool with geeky eye candy. But what's caught my eye today/tonight are the commercials.
--Michael Jackson in 3D at the Grammys. Really? I get having yet another tribute to him since he was a musical presence for so long, but his music isn't enough? We need 3D?
--Texas is promoting voter registration and they have a young woman in a school hallway saying, "My kids asked me if I was going to vote. Duh!? I'm a teacher ..." She lost me at Duh. She really lost me when she added that she didn't know if she was registered.
--Other than Eric Clapton looking really, really old, why should I look twice at the new Fender phone?
--The new McDonalds series featuring sexy people talking sexy to a sandwich, skinny models eyeing the male clothes horse because he's eating a wrap? That's the draw? He's cute and broke, girls! Or else he'd be eating at the Olive Garden!
--The attack of the Wheat Thins ... a male version and a female version ... both of them bite.
Many commercials are movie shorts -- creative and enticing. Others are like the phlegm in my chest I can't get rid of.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Chop It Up, Spit It Out
Ostrich, black-eyed peas, small bananas.
Open up a basket and those are the ingredients waiting to become a main course. Excuse me?! And then three "chefs" get to judge what some non-celebrity (i.e. they've never been in front of a camera) cooks whip up in 20 minutes. If not all goes well, the cook is Chopped.
Please ... really?
I hurt every time host Tom utters the word as condemnation, "You have been chopped." Partially, I'm cringing at his over annunciation. And the other part of me, just cringes that a non-chef is suffering from such over inflation of ego.
And don't get me started on the judges. They are glib, rude, and arrogant.
Yet, most Tuesdays, the show is on and I'm half watching it, glad there's a mute button, and waiting for grace to come forth from someone's mouth. Since this is supposedly reality television, I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen.
Open up a basket and those are the ingredients waiting to become a main course. Excuse me?! And then three "chefs" get to judge what some non-celebrity (i.e. they've never been in front of a camera) cooks whip up in 20 minutes. If not all goes well, the cook is Chopped.
Please ... really?
I hurt every time host Tom utters the word as condemnation, "You have been chopped." Partially, I'm cringing at his over annunciation. And the other part of me, just cringes that a non-chef is suffering from such over inflation of ego.
And don't get me started on the judges. They are glib, rude, and arrogant.
Yet, most Tuesdays, the show is on and I'm half watching it, glad there's a mute button, and waiting for grace to come forth from someone's mouth. Since this is supposedly reality television, I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Family Vacations
A dear friend is nearing the end of her Texas stay. She's going to graduate a daughter in May and then pack her kids and Texas memories and relocate north where snow comes more often than once a decade and a husband who has already picked up stakes awaits her.
This weekend we added to her photo album with a trip to Austin. Though she's been a resident for eight years and seen some great Texas sights, she had yet to experience the capital city. Another buddy had a birthday this week so we loaded up the car on Friday afternoon and the three of us made our way there to commemorate and celebrate . Home base was at the place of yet another member of this chosen family. He was host, tour guide and general champion of all things fun.
South Congress shops amused us with funky pins, posters, magnets and toys for grown ups. We experienced great food (including the best pork chop I've ever consumed at a place called The Woodland) at venues cheap and upscale. A tour of UT and a women's basketball game (that they somehow lost until the last minutes of overtime when Iowa State took the lead and kept it), music, walks around the lake, climbing the hills to take in the vistas and some of the most incredible sunsets -- these were all captured on film and in our hearts.
I took one very memorable photo of the three of them. The idea was that I was going to get this incredible wide shot with them in the foreground and the hills behind. Instead, I zoomed in. Each one smiled for their own reason. One because one more year was being recognized by those who loved him. Another because he knew he'd made another convert to the city that claimed his passion years ago. But hers was the widest, the most compelling. Her eyes were bright and the moment of perfect clarity was there for all to see. Her face conveyed what we all knew ... these moments are rare and few and while the future is bright, "now" is to be cherished.
I'm glad the viewfinder on these digital cameras work so well. My tears made it really hard to focus.
This weekend we added to her photo album with a trip to Austin. Though she's been a resident for eight years and seen some great Texas sights, she had yet to experience the capital city. Another buddy had a birthday this week so we loaded up the car on Friday afternoon and the three of us made our way there to commemorate and celebrate . Home base was at the place of yet another member of this chosen family. He was host, tour guide and general champion of all things fun.
South Congress shops amused us with funky pins, posters, magnets and toys for grown ups. We experienced great food (including the best pork chop I've ever consumed at a place called The Woodland) at venues cheap and upscale. A tour of UT and a women's basketball game (that they somehow lost until the last minutes of overtime when Iowa State took the lead and kept it), music, walks around the lake, climbing the hills to take in the vistas and some of the most incredible sunsets -- these were all captured on film and in our hearts.
I took one very memorable photo of the three of them. The idea was that I was going to get this incredible wide shot with them in the foreground and the hills behind. Instead, I zoomed in. Each one smiled for their own reason. One because one more year was being recognized by those who loved him. Another because he knew he'd made another convert to the city that claimed his passion years ago. But hers was the widest, the most compelling. Her eyes were bright and the moment of perfect clarity was there for all to see. Her face conveyed what we all knew ... these moments are rare and few and while the future is bright, "now" is to be cherished.
I'm glad the viewfinder on these digital cameras work so well. My tears made it really hard to focus.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Riddle Me This, Batman
I stood in line today so that I could be told which line to go stand in. Arriving at the front of the line, I received a slip of paper ensuring me I had a place in line saved just for me as I sat to wait. When my number was called, I was pointed to the next and last line. Where I paid up, smiled, and it was over.
What government agency was I visiting?
What government agency was I visiting?
Monday, January 18, 2010
MLK Day -- A Day Off and A Day for Remembering
"In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force." -- Martin Luther King, Jr.
I read again King's "I Have a Dream" and sought to be moved by the words in a fresh way rather than just focusing on the parts that have become a part of my oral history with its singsong cadence and rising vitality. I wanted to see, not just hear, what he had to say that day. Just as with any good writing, returning to the text regularly will offer you new insights based on where you are in your own journey. This MLK Day proved no exception.
How many times, I wondered, as the quote above stung me, have I been so driven by my own sense of righteousness that I gulped greedily from the cup of bitterness. Sarcasm and snide remarks, dismissal of another's thoughts merely because of the "side" they represented was not my own -- these have more frequently than I care to admit, been my weapons of choice. No matter the injustice that I want righted and how important or critical I think immediate attention should be paid, my cause is not helped when the fury of my emotion drowns out my point.
MLK knew that. To read his text is to be educated. To hear his words spoken that day is to be lifted up, but not to the place of an "eye for an eye". Instead, he shouts to us a lullaby, soothing our anxious spirits with the comfort of knowing that we are not alone, painting a picture that is impossible to see without standing on the shoulders of those who have gone before us but with a bit of effort, is visible.
The day is coming when I once again will feel passionate about a cause to the point of indignation, when my blood runs hot with the desire to shut "them up", shout "them" down, stop "their" stupidity. When that day comes, I pray I will I have the soul force to satisfy my thirst with the cup of overflowing grace so frequently offered to me.
I read again King's "I Have a Dream" and sought to be moved by the words in a fresh way rather than just focusing on the parts that have become a part of my oral history with its singsong cadence and rising vitality. I wanted to see, not just hear, what he had to say that day. Just as with any good writing, returning to the text regularly will offer you new insights based on where you are in your own journey. This MLK Day proved no exception.
How many times, I wondered, as the quote above stung me, have I been so driven by my own sense of righteousness that I gulped greedily from the cup of bitterness. Sarcasm and snide remarks, dismissal of another's thoughts merely because of the "side" they represented was not my own -- these have more frequently than I care to admit, been my weapons of choice. No matter the injustice that I want righted and how important or critical I think immediate attention should be paid, my cause is not helped when the fury of my emotion drowns out my point.
MLK knew that. To read his text is to be educated. To hear his words spoken that day is to be lifted up, but not to the place of an "eye for an eye". Instead, he shouts to us a lullaby, soothing our anxious spirits with the comfort of knowing that we are not alone, painting a picture that is impossible to see without standing on the shoulders of those who have gone before us but with a bit of effort, is visible.
The day is coming when I once again will feel passionate about a cause to the point of indignation, when my blood runs hot with the desire to shut "them up", shout "them" down, stop "their" stupidity. When that day comes, I pray I will I have the soul force to satisfy my thirst with the cup of overflowing grace so frequently offered to me.
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