+I watched Red Table Talk for the first time ever yesterday. Red Table Talk features Jada Pinkett Smith and her daughter and her mother, talking to guests about current issues. The episode that I watched was the latest one, featuring Olivia Jade, the daughter of Lori Loughlin, and it focused on her reaction to being the “centerpiece” of the college admissions scandal. The show was excellent. There are no “commercial breaks” so the subject is discussed and explored, in depth. While everyone was respectful to each other around the red table, they were also honest and pointed and real and raw. I highly recommend watching this particular episode. It was a good reminder of how much of our personal perspective is really made up of our own surroundings and upbringing. We may think that we are more open-minded and worldly than we really are, in some cases. This show brings “food for thought” to the Red Table.
+I love this quote from the writer Anne Lamott: “I do not live in my thighs or in my droopy butt. I live in joy and motion and cover-ups. I live in the nourishment of food and the sun and the warmth of the people who love me.”
+Have you heard about the silver monoliths mysteriously showing up in places all over the world, and then disappearing as quickly as they are discovered? In our household, we have received 8 million political calls this year, with car warranty calls coming in at a close second. I think that this meme might actually be accurate and real.
RIP – Chuck Yeager. There are a lot of pilots in my family and Chuck was always a great hero to all of them.
Chuck was raised in West Virginia and he took great pride from being from West Virginia, his entire life. I have travelled through West Virginia many, many times in my life. I was raised in western Pennsylvania. Many people from my high school’s graduating class attended West Virginia University. West Virginia gets a bad rap. It is wildly beautiful, mountainous, and free. You feel an awesome respect for what a tiny, fragile speck of nature, you really are, when you drive through the windy, treacherous, mountain roads of West Virginia, with the breath-taking spectacular views, everywhere you look. There is a reason why “Take Me Home, Country Roads” is one of John Denver’s most loved songs. It was written and sung with such heartfelt devotion:
“Almost heaven, West Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River Life is old there, older than the trees Younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze”
People like to make fun of West Virginians for being “backwards” and “under-developed.” But I scoff at that, just as they do. The people who I know, whose roots are West Virginian, are strong, faithful, brave, salt of the earth, prideful, authentic and courageous – very much like Chuck Yeager. They don’t give one hoot what the rest of us think about West Virginia, or its people. Like Chuck, they fly under the radar, beyond the speed of sound, because they know that they live in a multi-faceted, untouched, gorgeous jewel- a hidden gem tucked in the corner of our country’s jewel box. And they don’t feel the need to prove that fact to anybody.
I hope everyone had a nice weekend. I was reflecting on one of those “coming into my age” moments. Last week, I was having a Zoom meeting with my mentee, who is in the 4th grade. She made a reference comparing me to her grandparents.
“Oh,” I said, trying to hide the horror and shock I was feeling, in my voice. “So, you think that I’m about the age of your grandparents?” I looked off to the side, trying to look casual and only mildly interested.
“Oh, no, no,” she said, not so convincingly.
But then I thought about it more. Her mother is in her twenties. I have a son who is 24 years old. If her grandmother also had her mother in her young twenties, there is even a chance that her grandparents are younger than I am. Things That Make You Go, Hmmmmm.
Good morning, friends and readers. It is Christmas decorating day, here at my household, so I wrote a poem about it. My regular readers know that Sunday is devoted to poetry here at Adulting- Second Half. I consider Sunday to be a “poetry workshop space”, like Santa’s workshop, but we work with words here. Be like a poetry elf, and add your own additions to my Comments section, if you please. Today’s poem that I wrote is more “tongue in cheek” that my usual offerings. It’s just my mood today.
The Day Has Come
Why does decorating for Christmas change every year?
Sometimes it is something that I do, which I love and adore,
Sometimes it is nothing but a big, fat, ugly chore,
Sometimes I question if that ratty angel is starting to look like a whore,
Sometimes I only decorate, so to not seem like a grinch or a bore,
Sometimes the nostalgia rips me apart, right at my very core,
Sometimes I close a box and remind myself that “less is more”,
Sometimes the lights don’t work again, and we have to go to the store,
Sometimes I get competitive, as if our decorations get assigned a score,
Sometimes decorating gets precarious, and I have to yell “Fore!”
When it seems like the tree could fall over, and make a mess on the floor.
But in the end, when complete, the decorations make me revel in AMORE,
For, the feeling of hope and wonder is something that always stays the same.
“Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.” – Sean Penn, quote from The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
A friend of mine recently asked me why I never write about Josie, our collie. Do you still have her? Yes, of course, she still lives with us. Josie is a gem. I never write about Josie, because she is perfect. We never write about the perfect things in our lives, do we? The perfect things, we totally and completely, take for granted.
Josie is stunningly beautiful. Her coloring is succinctly divine. Sometimes people gasp when they see her. She’s that pretty. Recently, we were walking the three pups and two sisters passed us. (I know that they were sisters because they had the exact same face, just different hair.) The seemingly more outgoing sister exclaimed, “Oh my God! That collie is GORGEOUS!!”
The less outgoing, and probably more people-pleasing sister quickly blurted in, “They’re all beautiful. All of the puppies are beautiful!” She said this frantically, as if Ralph and Trip could understand the words, and had their feelings hurt.
Josie prances as she walks, and her tail swishes back and forth, with its perfect little white tip, so engagingly and tantalizingly perfect. Not to be weird, but her tail swishing is kind of alluring and sexy, in a way. If she weren’t spayed, she would drive male dogs mad with desire. Josie crosses her front paws when she lays down, ladylike and coy. Her white mane looks like a ravishing fur stole. Josie is Audrey Hepburn in dog form.
We got Josie when she was eight months old. She was raised by a young man with Down Syndrome. I suppose that must have had a huge influence on her beautiful, kind, gentle and calm nature. We never had to train Josie. She never messed in the house. She walks on a lead like a dream. Josie, always sweetly, lets strange children come up to kiss her on her long, elegant collie nose, without a flinch. She guards Ralphie ferociously, as he swims in the pool and she licks Trip clean of the spray from Ralphie’s water shakes. Josie’s maternal instinct runs deep in her bones and it shows. She doesn’t like squirrels and she probably barks too much at them, but that’s okay. I don’t like squirrels either. Our dog trainer said that there is no doubt that Josie is the lead dog in our house. She is queen bee in a stealth way. She only raises her voice when she (barks) at squirrels. Yet, supposedly, she rules the roost. Trip and Ralphie, obviously revere her and adore her in equal measure. (much like the rest of us)
We named Josie after a beloved, bonding family trip to Yosemite National Park. Yosemite turned into an easier to say, “Josie”. I honestly was pretty hesitant to give Josie my full heart. Her predecessor was Lacey, the first collie who stole my heart and who will own a piece of my devoted heart forever. Lacey is/was a legend in our family lore. Still, Josie has wormed her way into my vein of utter devotion. And she never tried to force her way in. Josie just wakes up every morning, ever loving, ever joyful, ever elegant, and yet ever uninhibited. And I thank God every day for her absolute divine presence. I don’t write about Josie, because I don’t want to jinx anything. Josie is almost too good to be true. Josie is perfect.
The holidays are upon us. Around these parts, the Christmas decorations in people’s yards seem to have gone up extra early, many even before Thanksgiving. I’m not sure if this is people wanting to fast forward everything to the end of 2020, or people just being in dire need of extra cheer. My guess is that it is a little bit of a mix of both things. Anyway, we’ll be putting our decorations up this weekend, which is on par with our typical schedule every year (creatures of habit, I suppose). Happy Friday, friends!!! My regular readers know that Fridays are devoted to “the stuff” in life. On Friday, I discuss three favorite things, or websites, or books, or beauty products, etc. that have made my life more interesting and fun. Welcome to Favorite Things Friday!! Please check out previous Friday listings for more of my favorites and please add your favorites to my Comments section. Here are my favorites for today:
Nature Made CholestOff – I have given blood three times this year. This is more often than most years, truthfully, because I have been monitoring my coronavirus antibodies, but still, giving blood is a good thing to do for yourself and for others, for a myriad of reasons. While I have been disappointed, after each session with my antibody results (negative so far), more alarmingly, my cholesterol readings were a tad scary, from my first two results, from giving blood. I am always loathe to recommend supplements to anyone. Of course, you should always discuss supplements with your doctor before taking them. That being said, I have been taking this supplement for the last few months, without changing my eating habits too much. I was happy to see that my cholesterol reading was the lowest that it has been this year, after this last session of giving blood. And that was from blood given a few days after our Thanksgiving feast. (butter, sausage stuffing, turkey, gravy – in other words, “Cholestafest!”)
Zuke’s Mini Naturals – It turns out (as per our dog trainer) that we have been way too generous with our giant dog treats for minimum good behavior from our fur friends. We have a lot of lessons to teach our canine trio, and we don’t want them to get fat in the process. Zuke’s treats have 3 calories each and those little crumbs must pack a lot of flavor, because our dogs are willing to do their “whole bag of tricks” for one little morsel. I order my bags of Zuke’s on Amazon.
Marco Poloapp – This is a fun app. I didn’t think I would like it, but a teacher friend was raving about it, and I am a curious person. Basically, it is an app that allows you to send out recorded video messages to each other, without having to be available at the same time. I don’t like being on video. I don’t like watching videos. (I’m always looking for the written transcript.) Yet, I still had a lot of fun with this yesterday. I sent my friend a few videos of me, all masked up, in the hair salon. She was patient with my learning curve, and like the excellent teacher who she is, she encouraged my effort and told me that she was proud of me. (I hope that she saw that I was beaming under my mask)
Have a wonderful, comforting, restful, hopeful, brightly lit weekend, my friends!!!!
My daughter and I were in the car the other day, and an indicator lit up on my dashboard. My heart lurched. I felt kind of panicky and uneasy. It turned out to be my low fuel indicator. I needed to get gas. I hadn’t seen that indicator in so long, it alarmed me. Just another crazy thing about this pandemic situation, I suppose. My response did make me laugh out loud, so that is a good thing.
We were driving home from giving blood. We were hoping that we each had miraculous coronavirus antibodies, but alas, the test results came back today, and we didn’t. However, I did get smacked upside the head with the reality of my pandemic pork out. I’ve let calories be my units of comfort. I realize that I have needed too much “comforting” this past year. I tried to avert my eyes from the scale, but it lit up like my dashboard indicator. “Wake up and smell the coffee, lady” seems to be the message all of the way around.
I saw this on a sign the other day:
“We are responsible for everything that goes into our mouths and everything that comes out of them.”
I think that sign was tailor made for me. I need to be more cognizant on both accounts. I suppose it is good to enter the holidays, with a good reality check. Watch what goes into my mouth and what comes out of it, keep up my oil changes (in both my car and in my body- by regularly giving blood), and recognize when I am low on fuel and running on fumes, before the brightly lit indicators start happening. These are good things to recognize before the thrust of the holidays is upon us and the warning indicators get lost in the jumble of brightly colored twinkle lights.
We were shelling on the beach over the weekend. The shells that had landed on the beach were unbelievably beautiful and varied. It had been a long, long time since there had been such an unbelievable array of colorful and unusual shells for the taking. It turns out that times around the full moon are supposed to be the best times to find truly unique shells on any particular beach. We found large conch shells, and clam shells that were so brightly yellow and orange, you would have assumed they had been painted. There were piles of pearly snail shells which were so neatly arranged that my daughter wondered if someone had collected them and put them there, but it turns out, these piles were all over the beach, like leopard spots. I got excited and inspired enough by the experience, to order a book about the different varieties of shells on Amazon. It felt like a brand new, interesting experience, even though I have been shelling on beaches since I was a little girl. I got excited and reacquainted with the treasure hunt feel of it all, all over again.
Friends, this year has been an incredibly difficult and somewhat disillusioning year. A lot of things that make us energized and excited have gone dormant under layers of worry and concern and fatigue. But those things which arouse and delight us, are still there, underneath it all. Like finding a long lost piece of jewelry or another treasured thing, long considered gone forever, the experiences which make us feel moved and aflame, will happen again. We will surprise ourselves with the remembered feelings of delight and aliveness which these dormant experiences will bring us, when life starts to feel lighter again.
The beautiful shells that appeared on the beach, were always there. Some of them are hundreds, maybe even thousands of years old. It’s just that they got covered up by heavy sand and high tides from storms and winds and tossing seas. But on a calm, cloudless day, the sun shown its light on the glistening shells, and the moon smiled her blessing on the banquet of abundant gifts which she had bequeathed to the beach combers. And as the beach combers picked up their perfectly lovely gifts, to examine them closer and to hold them gently in their hands, near to their peaceful hearts, the shellers remembered how perfectly, naturally loved they were, and how perfectly and naturally loved, they have always, always been.
Hi friends! Don’t be offended. It’s Monday-Funday. I honestly love seeing kids in the neighborhood, and there isn’t snow in these parts where I live, but I couldn’t help but laugh at this meme. I grew up in Pennsylvania where there was plenty of snow. Our bus stop was at the corner lot and we would all gather on the neighbor’s tiny front porch to stay warm until the bus came. Every early morning during the winter, we would all be huddled up on those sweet people’s front porch, until one of us would dare to leave the porch and start a snowball fight. And they never said a peep about it. These neighbors were older. They didn’t have young children. I don’t even know if I knew their names, but here I am writing about their kindness, over forty years later. Kindness counts. Have a great day!
Good morning, dear friends and readers. On Sundays, I devote this blog to poetry. I either write a poem, or I share a poem, and I strongly encourage you to share your poems in my Comments section. Poems have a way of broadening thought and deepening emotion, like no other form of writing can do. Today, I share two poems written by other people. The first poem, “Cranky Old Man”, is attributed to an Australian man, named David Griffith. David was living in a nursing home and this poem was found by his nurses, in his things, after he died. It has since been shared widely around the world. Thank you, to my dear friend, who shared it with me this week. The second poem, I found on Twitter. I am at the age when a lot of people who I know, are on their second marriages, and I thought that the poem was sweet and romantic and hopeful, for those relationships, especially. Have a restful, rejuvenating, reinvigorating, and restorative end of your weekend, as we enter into the holiday season. See you, tomorrow, my dear friends and readers.
