"Celebrations of anniversaries of disasters provide opportunities, as do holidays." Joey Skaggs
Two years ago today my sister's husband was killed in a plane crash. She's shared her feelings about widowhood several times here. Every time I learned something. Which is what older sisters are for ... but I would have preferred to learn a different way.
Last year Judy gave us some real insights On Widowhood, After One Year. I asked Judy if she was up to another set of musings on the second anniversary of Bob's death. She came through, bigtime.
This was a difficult assignment because there was nothing monumental to write about. It was a year almost like any year, except I was still living alone. And there were times I wished Bob were here, but I did what I had to do anyway - live - and segued to the next project.
I read what I wrote last year when approaching the first anniversary. I made comments about how I felt then, and here I would like to address those comments and see how I feel now:
I still sleep on my side of the bed.
I finally went through the box of 'our' personal items. Saved some, didn't save others.
I have learned I can do just fine on my own, and it's kind of nice to live without fearing 'the look' when I failed to meet Bob's expectations.
I finally gave away all the flight suits from his closet. But mine is tucked away, waiting for someone to fly me to an air show.
I've resumed flying, which is great. What's not so great is that there's no Bob to call and tell about my great piloting. He loved my war stories.
I'm still not ready to part with his blue blazer with the Harvard buttons, his ski jacket and the Hawaiian shirt he wore on our final trip to Maui. Maybe by the time I write "Widowhood After Three Years."
Bob and I disagreed on some furniture, so I replaced the ugly dining room table and chairs, but most of the house remains the same. These familiar surroundings make me feel comfortable.
I am still learning that I don't have to explain myself to anyone. I really can do anything I want. If that sounds selfish, maybe it is. I've found that I enjoy spending time with Judy.
I can't imagine that I will ever minimize the depth and importance of Bob's and my relationship, but with determination I have learned to manage as a onesie.
No one can take away my memories, and they are still firmly packed away for the future, dosage to be determined at the time of need. Bob isn't here. That's the big fact. But I am. And I continue to believe that moping my way through life accomplishes nothing.
The tears don't flow so easily any more, though I am, after all, a woman.
When a memory of 'us' pops up I still get a little misty. But it's just another one of those memories than no one can take away. So I think past it and it gets tucked away. What's the point?
I still work as often as possible. Great distraction, great co-workers, long and hard days which keep me busy with little time for reflecting.
I did make the trip to Israel last year. Two days after my xxth high school reunion, where the women looked great and the men were fat and deaf, I was on a plane to Tel Aviv. When I deplaned I felt like I was on another planet. I couldn't read, I couldn't speak, I couldn't communicate. First question (puzzled face): "Speak English?"
I never understood, with his love of history, why Bob chose never to go there. I took in the magic of the sights, the hills, the buildings, the museums, and I wanted so much to share it with him.
I've had some personal tragedies during this year and as a result have spent a lot of time in airports. And hospitals. And bedrooms. While these have been distractions, too, I still miss being able to call Bob at the end of my day and tell him all about it. He would have offered an ear. He went to UVA and then Harvard Law School - the right words were built in.
This summer I am nursing at the camp my grandchildren are attending as rookies. I thought it would be nice to have Grammy around in these strange surroundings. Two days after camp concludes a friend and I will go to London and embark on a twelve day cruise through the Baltics, another trip Bob didn't care to take. I still don't get it. But now he'll never be able to explain it to me.
I realized why I had so much trouble trying to put these thoughts together. It's because life is lived one day at a time. Pain is temporary. Every day just happens, and you do what you have to do. I've survived a few depressing hiccups with a great deal of support from family and friends. Here I am, about to embark on my third year of widowhood ... and saying the word doesn't hurt so much any more.
I am surviving. It is not easy, but if you remain stuck in the past you will never get to the future. So tune in next year.
Once again, Judy, you've taught us what real coping looks like. Thank you. I hope you meet a new Prince Charming on that cruise. It's time.
"The terrorist yelled, 'God is great.' I grabbed Oron's handgun and fired three bullets. As soon as I was sure he was dead I lifted the gun so as not to hurt passersby." Israel Policeman Eli Mizrahi
Picture yourself on vacation, sleeping peacefully in a hotel bed. Maybe you're having a nice dream. Perhaps your partner is snuggled up to you, making you sweat a little in the summer heat but adding even more peace to your last moments of sleep.
You wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, prepare for the day's schedule of site-seeing, shopping, whatever. You find the right bus, jam into it with locals and other tourists like you --well, they're tackier than you, but still, fellow tourists-- and hope like hell the bus has air conditioning.
Picture the noisy streets, crowded, clogged with traffic, especially in the heart of town, around the old bus depot where construction workers are building a shiny new train station. Also, you notice with a smidgen of interest, it's near the central headquarters for local broadcasting stations.
Now picture you're feeling a little annoyed, all that equipment blocking the way, making traffic a nightmare. Resigned to a long wait, you gaze out the window apathetically.
Then you notice the bulldozer. It's driving away from the construction site, moving against traffic. Cars are crashing, horns blaring. Finally, unbelievably, you realize it's heading directly at your bus.
The bulldozer plows into your bus, knocking it over onto its side like a bowling pin. Like more pins, passengers and debris are flying everywhere. In the process a small Toyota is flattened, it's female driver killed instantly. Other cars have been hit. Pedestrians too.
Picture a horrifying scene of carnage, blood, broken bodies, crumpled metal, destruction. Picture an elite police terror squad as they climb onto the bulldozer and kill the terrorist driver at point blank range.
Then, picture this: ordinary citizens rushing toward the scene, giving all the aid and comfort they can as ambulance sirens wail closer. Jerusalem is now under an official state of emergency.
Picture too, that an event like this is so commonplace my niece called this morning from Jerusalem to apologize she couldn't pick up the special tee shirt for my son because the store she'd planned to visit was in the heart of the chaos. But, she assured me, she'd try another area of the city not prone to attack.
This is my family. This is where they live. This is where I am now. Safe and sound. But only because my family lives in the right place. So far.
Picture the real truth. In America and most of the Western world, terrorism is a political issue. In the Middle East it's the real deal.
It's been quiet in Israel recently with hope focused on the proposed peace talks. But as every Israeli knows, quiet is relative here. Today one crazed, fanatical criminal took peace into his own hands and shattered it. Tomorrow it could be dozens, hundreds, thousands.
I want to hear from Barack Obama and John McCain what they're going to do about protecting Israel. No more tap dancing, dammit. I want a clear picture.
The picture above is from my nephew's wedding this February in Israel. There's nothing like a wedding to bring people together.
Our family's weddings in Israel do more than that -- they bring worlds together. I missed this one because I had surgery. I've finally gotten the go-ahead to fly and am leaving Tuesday (tomorrow!).
As always, I will be welcomed back with joy and excitement. As always, my family will shower me with unconditional love. As always I will offer my love in return, plus a warm welcome and some of Aunt Sally's special guidance to my nieces and the newest family bride. And as always, I will come away having learned more than I could ever teach.
There's much to admire about our family in Israel, but the level of their commitment to a Higher Power is highest on my list. There's something deeply comforting about the purity of religious rituals, both simple and complex.
They provide so much more than merely rules. They offer guidance. And a path toward inner peace. I wouldn't trade that for anything. And every time I visit, I find myself further along that path.
Though our Israel family is much more deeply religious, we're not really so different. In the end, we are the sum of our unique individualities. Which could be a positive way to walk the road to peace. Someday. We can hope.
So off I go. Have computer, will travel. If you don't hear from me for a while, I'll see you in July. Tawk amongst yourselves. I certainly know you can.
"Nothing contributes so much to tranquilizing the mind as a steady purpose -- a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye." Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Today is my niece Karen's birthday. You could ask, who gives a whoop besides her family? Anybody who's ever faced cancer, that's who. They know, as Karen knows, that every birthday is a gift. More, a triumph.
Karen's been fighting cancer for 8 years. During most of those years not for herself, which would be hard enough. But for her young son, which is, to a parent, much, much worse.
Alex was diagnosed at age 4 with a rare disease called VHL. An operation removed all the mechanics of his right ear, carotid artery and part of his brain. The outer ear is still there, but the hearing is gone.
You all know Alex. I haven't written about him for a while because although he's an extraordinary boy, thank god there's been nothing out of the ordinary to say. Last week Alex celebrated his 12th birthday.
A continuing triumph. Of family and medical diligence, healthy lifestyle, good karma, mind over matter. Whatever, we'll take it. Especially now for Karen's birthday too.
Because incredibly, a year and a half ago Karen got cancer. Not VHL. Skin cancer. Melanoma. Oh yeah. we've all heard of that. And not in a good way.
Karen's was first a small patch on her leg. Excised, clean margins, finished. Then, six months later tumors in her right eye signaled the much rarer, much more dangerous, ocular melanoma.
They tried everything, but it came back. On April 16, barely a month ago, surgeons had to remove her right eye. An outer cover is there, attached to the muscles which still work, but the sight is gone.
Karen and Alex. Mother and son. Different cancers, similar losses, totally the right attitude.
Fight. Mobilize. Energize. Laugh. Love. Live. Learn all you can. Gather your physical and emotional resourses. Seek and accept support and counsel and advice. Lean on your loved ones and stand on your own two feet.
According to Karen's example, that's what you do to survive. More, that's how you live life to the fullest.
Karen is a survivor of the highest order. An inspiration to cancer victims, mothers of cancer victims, other survivors and those who are trying to be. An object lesson to those of us who waste time moaning about petty problems.
Tomorrow Karen has her first appointment to be fitted for an artificial eye. She's been wearing cool eye patches, but is really looking forward to looking like she's got the real deal.
What a birthday present, eh? And not just for another of life's milestones, but for a true celebration of life itself.
Happy and HEALTHY Birthday, Karen. We're all wishing you many, many, many, many more.
"If you can't make it better, you can laugh at it." Erma Bombeck
Okay, so I'm a week late for Mother's Day. Most mothers are farther behind than that.
I was supposed to leave for Israel today but my sore paw is still acting up and will delay my trip at least a month. I need a distraction. And I thought we could all use a laugh, even a week late.
Our family in Israel has 10 kids, youngest is 7. There are now 7 grandkids, oldest is 6. Here's something funny (and potentially too true), supposedly written by a mother in Austin, TX.
25 THINGS I'VE LEARNED FROM MY CHILDREN
1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.
2. If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they ignite.
3. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "Uh-oh," it's already too late.
4. One 3-year-old's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.
5. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
6. No matter how much Jello you put in a swimming pool, you still can't walk on water.
7. Pool filters do not like Jello.
8. Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a four-year-old.
9. Play Dough and Microwave should never be used in the same sentence.
10. Super glue is forever.
11. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
12. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.
13. You probably do not want to know what that odor is.
14. Always look in the oven before you turn it on. Plastic toys do not like ovens. Neither do gerbils.
15. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
16. It does, however, make cats dizzy.
17. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
18. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a superman cape.
19. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20 by 20 foot room.
20. You should not throw baseballs up in the air when the ceiling fan is on.
21. When using the ceiling fan as a bat , you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit.
22. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.
23. The glass in windows (even safety glass) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
24. Your sister's head will, however, stop that same baseball.
25. Sisters hit in the head by baseballs cause a LOT of commotion.
"If you liked the book, you'll love the country." Israeli Tourist Bureau
Most people who write about Israel do so passionately, unable to suppress their beliefs, ideologies, politics. That's okay. Israel has sparked supercharged emotions from its inception to the present day. How could it not?
A country formed by displaced Holocaust survivors, European, Levantine, Jewish and Arab nationals, the political agendas of Britain, France, Germany and the United States. Home to the holiest shrines of Western civilization's three major religions.
Israel, let's be frank, is--and always has been--the biggest political football in the world. That's not going to stop any time soon. But it won't stop me from going there, either. And it shouldn't stop you.
I've written about Israel from my own biased perspective as a Jew and an American, but also as one who's lived there, has family there, has had many up close and personal experiences.
On the occasion of Israel's 60th Anniversary as an independent nation, here's my sampling of what Israel means to its own citizens, to the world and to you and me.
"It's not a 'mental' illness, it's a medical condition." Dale Neaman
So there she is, Liz Spikol, profiled in the New York Times and on the Huffington Post, back to back. Wow. How cool is that. Especially on a subject about which she happens to be an expert: mental illness.
The focus is on Spikol's contribution to a modern movement dedicated to bringing mental illnesses out of the dark ages and onto the Internet and YouTube. To shine light on a litany of very real medical conditions once hidden in the same kind of closet as homosexuality.
I knew Liz as a child, followed her impressive professional career, learned of her long battle with mental illness. I've celebrated her growth here but never came out, so to speak, about my own membership in her not so exclusive club.
'Mad Pride' is finally a group I can get behind 100 per cent. No, I'm not crazy (neither is Liz). But I'm not totally sane either. If you just went, HUH? that's the problem 'Mad Pride' proponents are trying to address.
Look around, hardly anybody you know is issue-free, so to speak. Or chemical-free, as a result of any number of very real mood disorders and illnesses. Usually inherited, just like heart disease or diabetes.
Yeah, I live a "normal," mentally balanced life, but only with the help of prescribed pharmaceuticals, internal fortitude and external support. So do millions of others, many, many of whom are related to me.
In our family alone we've got bi-polar disorder, manic depression, hypo-mania, clinical depression, suicidal ideation disorder, a potpourri of anxiety disorders, PTSD, obsessive-compulsive disorder, alcoholism, ADHD, Asperger's Syndrome and last but not least, body dysmorphic disorder.
Just about the only thing missing is schizophrenia. Although.... wait ... no! ... maybe ... well ... hold on! ... shut up! Oh, nevermind. Just kidding.
Mental illness isn't funny. Unless you've been through the tunnel, come out the other end and are managing your disease well. Then it can--for some, Must--be a stitch. Because that's the best way to patch yourself up.
A poster girl for 'Mad Pride,' Liz Spikol speaks with heart, humor, raw honesty, intelligence and incredible perception about her battles with bi-polar disorder. Listen to her.
"I think this wedding is one of the most special ones we've done." Donald Trump
Okay, now that the pictures are out, I have to dish. I didn't think I'd care and really, I don't. But still, to see such crashing bad taste all in one place is just too much fun to overlook.
First of all, Oscar de la Renta or not, that low-cut, tightly fitted gown would look more fitting on say, Katherine Heigl than on Jenna Bush. It screams Hottie on the Red Carpet instead of murmuring Blushing Bride.
And I have to ask, what was up with Maid of Honor twin Barbara's Greek Goddess look, complete with wreath headdress? Jeez.
George and Barbara Bush Senior are conspicuously absent from the photos, which is okay since Laura choose a matronly, ugly dress more suitable for Grandmother of the Bride.
Then we had the two fathers and the groom in complimentary and matching ice blue ties. Again, Jeez.
These people have access to the best clothes and fashion advice that money can buy. Aside from a truly lovely engagement ring--which come to think of it came from the groom's side--and a glorious setting provided by nature, the wedding party's look was as tacky as the souvenirs being hawked all over Crawford.
It is sweet the wedding took place this weekend, but I bet that wasn't Jenna's idea. Releasing those pictures on Mother's Day is too good an opportunity for a sagging presidency to pass up.
Around here, there's no wedding, just the usual pride. Our son spent the weekend down in Boca with his grandparents (today is my Dad's birthday too). Tonight we'll pick him up at the airport and go to our favorite Italian restaurant for a relaxed Mother's Day dinner.
All that and roses too.
I won't be wearing Oscar de la Renta ... just the usual jeans. And a great big happy smile.
"The eyes are not responsible when the mind does the seeing." Publilius Syrus
My niece Karen and her husband have been raising a son with a rare cancer called VHL. I've written about him so often it seemed fitting to give him his own page: ALEX ANDERSON
Hard as it is to believe, less than a year ago Karen was diagnosed with a different but equally rare cancer, Ocular Melanoma. April 16, 2008 doctors removed Karen's right eye.
Her story is really something. So here's her own page too.
Title Translation: Happy Birthday and Independence Day to Israel
"The security of Israel is a moral imperative for all free peoples." Henry Kissinger
Israel as a soverign nation is now 60 years old. Seems it's been around forever, doesn't it? I guess that's because most of us don't remember the world without it. Or without the constant conflict between Israel and its Arab neighbors.
That's been around forever too. And it's not likely to stop any time soon.
"I stand here on this cursed ground, from which the cries of our brothers will forever resound, I salute our six million brothers and sisters... I salute the ashes of our people and vow 'never again.'" Israel Defense Forces Chief of Staff Gabi Ashkenazi
You don't have to be Jewish to honor the more than 6 million innocent victims of the Holocaust, modern history's worst crime against humanity. You just have to be a human being.
For the 17th year, thousands of people, from teenagers to survivors joined the March of the Living, an annual Walk of Remembrance from Auschwitz to Birkenau on Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Jews and all those connected to survivors around the world marked the horror of the Holocaust with prayer and ceremonies. Yom HaShoah is especially poignant this year in Israel, preparing to celebrate its 60th anniversary as a nation, formed largely by and for those forced from their homes and countries by the Nazis.
Hamas, on the other hand, took the opportunity to pervert Yom HaShoah by airing a documentary series claiming that the Holocaust--the genocide of European Jews--was planned as a satanic Jewish plot to get rid of the handicapped and mentally ill.
Hamas also claims the Holocaust was meant to manipulate the world media into feeling sorry for Jews. And of course, it never really happened and the Nazis had nothing to do with any of it.
What can you say to that kind of bigotry, hatred and ignorance? We'd like to ignore it, but so many Palestinians, a whole generation of young ones for sure, are being taught this horrible lie.
It's not a time to talk Middle East politics. It's a time to remember those who died at the hands of evil hatemongers. And to pray. And to promise it won't happen again.
Those who join the Walk of Remembrance take a solemn pledge. It can't be any clearer than this:
"We pledge to keep alive and honor the legacy of the multitudes of our people who perished in the Holocaust.
We pledge to fight anti-Semitism, anti-Zionism, Holocaust denial and all other forms of hatred directed towards the Jewish people and Israel.
We pledge to fight every form of discrimination manifested against any religion, nationality or ethnic group.
We pledge to actively participate in the strengthening of Jewish life in the Diaspora and Israel.
We pledge to increase our knowledge of our Jewish heritage and to pass on a love of Jewish life and learning to the next generation.
We pledge to give tzedaka, to assist in helping the Jewish needy, wherever they may live in the world.
We pledge to involve ourselves in tikkun olam, to build a better world for all members of the human family.
After the Shoah the promise of 'Never Again' was proclaimed. We pledge to create a world where 'Never Again' will become a reality for the Jewish people and, indeed, for all people.
This is our solemn pledge to the Jewish people, to those who came before us, to those of our generation, and to those who will follow in future generations."
That's our future and our children's future, those special words: Never Again.
"With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things." William Wordsworth
For those keeping up with the saga of my niece Karen, who lost her right eye to cancer barely two weeks ago, here's the latest.
Don't cringe at my title, look at the pictures above and below to see I'm just following Karen's lead. Which is to make lemonade out of lemons, turn chicken sh*t into chicken salad, focus on the joy of family, continue to embrace life.
If you can't see that, you need to look again.
I've already shared a picture of Karen in her first basic black eye patch. But now she's got a full wardrobe of eye catching patches. So I asked her to give us a look-see. She did a fashion shoot this week with daughter Amy manning the camera. Here are the fab results.
Keep in mind Amy isn't yet 10 years old. I think she's got a real career ahead of her. Look out, Annie Liebovitz!
Miss Thing Does Bling
A Kiss For You
Haa Cha Cha Cha!
Oriental Peace Patch
Make That Double Peace, Y'All
Courage, humor, style and grace under pressure. I can't think of anything better to inspire us all, can you?
"True friendship is seen through the heart, not through the eyes."
My niece had surgery to remove her right eye last Wednesday. Oh yeah. Really. Of course I wrote about it here. Pray for Karen Please.
Karen came through the operation well. No question such radical surgery was necessary, there were two malignant tumors on her optic nerve.
Next steps: recuperation, then--in 6 weeks--the artificial eye implant, then occupational therapy to learn to see and live a normal life with only one eye. If anybody can do that, it's Karen.
There are more next steps: MRI, scans, maybe biopsies to check for metastasis. Friday we see the oncologist. Karen, her husband Bob, my sister Judy and me. Together. United. En masse.
The goal now is quality of life and prolonging life.
And she's already cracking jokes, telling her husband, "I had my eye on you from the beginning. Let's hope it was the good eye."
On a more poignant note, telling me, "Life is so precious. I had to lose an eye to see the truth."
My current challenge is finding colorful eye patches to match her outfits. Basic black (see above) is always in fashion, but we want to push the envelope and go for more gusto. If you have any info, let me know.
"The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye but found by the heart." Michael Nolan Last summer I wrote about my niece's heroic battle with a vicious cancer called ocular melanoma. At the time, though the surgical treatment was rough, it seemed she emerged victorious. We celebrated. But then the Cancer Demons said: Not. So. Fast.
Today (Wednesday) surgeons will Remove. Her Eye. Yeah, join me in a giant shudder. It's called Enucleation.
Here's the medical info:
What is Enucleation? Immediately after the eyeball is removed, an orbital implant is inserted deep in the socket to preserve the shape of the eye. It will later be replaced by a permanent prosthesis.
It may hurt when you jerk your good eye to one side or another because the muscles of both eyes always move together and although your eye has been removed, your eye muscles move as if your eye was still there.
The plain facts in cold medical terms for laymen. What, they can't say life will go on, you'll be able to operate normally? Well, actually, they do.
What will I look like after my eye is removed? Keep in mind that your eyeball helps to keep the eyelid up. Therefore, when the eye is removed the eyelid simply stays shut as if you are winking. You may be self-conscious and want to wear an eye patch or sunglasses until you get your prosthesis.
Will I be able to lead a normal life with only one eye? It will take some time to adjust to using one eye, but almost everyone learns to compensate during the first year after surgery. There is reduced visual field on the side when looking straight ahead, and there is a loss of depth perception.
If the vision in your remaining eye is good, you will still be able to drive, read, play sports, and perform all your usual daily activities.
Yeah, enough already. In your wildest dreams you don't want this nightmare.
Here's the part they don't talk about. How long will I live?
That's because they don't know. They believe the enucleation will finally and completely eradicate the cancer. But ocular melanoma can metastasize to the liver and lungs. So even though the prognosis will most likely be good, the scans and tests and vigilance must continue even as life goes on.
Karen is 45 years old. She has a husband, two children, two dogs, a busy, productive life. Her 11-year-old son Alex also has cancer. A different kind, called VHL.
I want to howl to the heavens: HOW MUCH PAIN MUST ONE FAMILY TAKE?
I know the answer. As much as they're given.
Karen is such a warm, courageous, loving, caring person. She virtually glows with goodness and light. Read her story if you didn't already: I See Courage.
Pray for her please. If you don't pray, send some healing thoughts her way.
"Don't forget until too late that the business of life is not business but living." Barry C. Forbes
Another business trip to a vacation resort. This time it's Hilton Head, South Carolina. AKA "The Low Country." Not sure what that means but I get an image of creatures crawling through a swamp. Not my favorite kind of place.
Hilton Head is well known as a golfer's paradise. In fact, our taxi driver tells us, there are 44 golf courses on the island, the most per square mile in the world. Which would add the unique distinction of featuring the ugliest outfits in the world.
Hilton Head Island's full time local population is about 50,000 but at any given time swells to include 3/4 million visitors. Many of them golfers. But also tourists and everyday vacationers. And conventioneers.
As with any vacation destination, there are things to do ... theme parks, beaches, museums and shopping in addition to golf.
And the real bonus to many (though not I): Hilton Head Island is teeming with wildlife areas, marshes, maritime forests. There are tours galore to explore the island on foot, in sailboats or via guided nature-kayaking excursion. This unique barrier island is a nature-lovers paradise.
So what to do if it rains? Every. Single. Day.
Hey, no problem. I'm happy to stay indoors. There's also a Spa.
"According to the karma of past actions, one's destiny unfolds, even though everyone wants to be so lucky." Sri Guru Granth Sahib
Here we go again. Surgery on my hand Friday. Left, which is good since I'm a righty. Still, I'll be one-handed for a while. So, not life-threatening but briefly life-altering.
My sister Judy's here from LA, staying for two weeks. She's a nurse, but it's more about helping me do those little personal things only a sister can be asked to do. What a pal. I'm going to work hard not to whine, kvetch, be a pain in the butt.
For those of you who know me and are laughing, STFU!
And to anybody who wants to throw some good karma my way, I can still catch it with my right hand.
I may not be back for a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, tawk amongst yourselves.
"It's true that it doesn't make sense straight off the bat that someone would shop for a Valentine's Day gift at Home Depot. But we do see a high volume of traffic just before the holiday." John Simley
There you go. Valentins's Day doesn't promote romance, it supports the economy.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Nobody should need a special holiday to express love and devotion. And after 26 years of marriage I can tell you romance is best enjoyed when it's least expected.
On the other hand, any day that promotes chocolate is okay with me.
Hope you enjoy some decadent chocolate, even if you bought it for yourself.
"Youth would be an ideal state if it came a little later in life." Herbert Henry Asquith
We've been in Florida. Just as well, since my head was about to explode, sending political fragments all over the place. I've been overwhelmed by Campaign Fatigue, Media Madness, Pundit Parlance and Candidate Combustion.
Frankly, I was also tired of the sound of my own voice. So I took some time off to visit my parents. Grab some sun. Hit the pool, then the hot tub. Read. Sleep. Relax.
My biggest decision was whether I'd cook or we'd go out to dinner.
I'm not going to write more about my folks. I've already said pretty much all I have to say. At least for now.
So go on over to Blinq and read about Dan Rubin's dilemma over what songs to put on his mom's iPod for her 80th birthday: Blinq: Loading Grandma's iPod.
Dan and I are both lucky to have parents who are not only alive but living active lives. Setting great examples for all of us on aging not only gracefully, but energetically.
Here's the perfect perspective ... the physical therapist suggested my dad use a cane just until his daily workouts on the weight machines made his legs stronger.
"No cane," said Dad, who'll be 92 in May. "It'll make me look like an old man."
"Celebrate the happiness that friends are always giving, make every day a holiday and celebrate just living!" Amanda Bradley
You know that thrill you get when you meet someone and just click? I'm not talkin' sex here, people, although feel free to indulge your fantasies. I'm referring to kindred spirits, instant identification, karmic bonds, the sure knowledge you've found a great new friend.
Like Amy. We've become buds over time online. Today we met IRL, aka In Real Life. And may I just say, Bingo.
You can never have enough friends. At least I can't. Though I have to admit I'm choosy about my friends. They've got to be smart, funny, empathetic, brave, earthy, loyal, loving, forgiving, creative, passionate, engaged in life and in the world around them.
Just like Amy.
My friends cuss like sailors. And I don't care if they drink like sailors, just not around me. (I'm not anti-drink, I'm anti-drunk.) Some of them smoke a variety of things, just not in my bedroom. Sometimes if I'm in the mood, I'll join them for a butt on my front stoop or back patio.
They're all politically active. We might not agree on who should be the next president, but we definitely share a raging antipathy for Bush and Cheney and the rest of the crooks and liars who've driven America off the road and into a big stinking ditch.
My friends care about their families, schools, cities, states, country. If they're parents, they're good parents, involved and aware. If not, they're great aunts and uncles and kindhearted children to their own parents.
All of the above, just like Amy.
My good friends have a deep capacity for outrage at injustice. The desire to change at least some part of the world. And the ability to party like it's 1964 (whatever that means, I never have known).
They should also be --and this is a deal breaker-- sassy, sexy, self-confident smart-asses.
