Good Night, Craig Ferguson.

As I begin this post, I'm watching the second-to-last episode of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. But it's difficult to write while trying to absorb every last bit of one of my favorite TV shows ever. Now it's two days later. I saw the final episode. And while it's just a TV show, it's one I will miss.

I don't think that Craig's style of hosting was for everyone. At first glance, it may have looked like your typical late-night talk-show. But believe me when I say it wasn't.  What made it different? Well, just off the top of my head (and in no particular order)...

There were times the monologue was performed by...puppets. Just...hand puppets (controlled, of course, by Craig). Sid the rabbit would talk about whatever seemed to be on his mind. And he worked a little blue, as they used to say. Perhaps seeing Craig crouched on the floor holding up a puppet wasn't as much fun for the studio audience, but it sure worked for me.

Speaking of sassy language, Craig didn't always self-censor for network television. He's a far cry from "foul-mouthed" in my opinion, but every now and again he would use some words not suitable for all viewers. Rather than the typical bleep and blurred mouth, the show started dubbing in foreign words with a graphic for the flag of that country. I think the first was "ooh la la," but you might also have heard "tutti frutti" or "crikey." Who else does that?!

Craig liked to poke fun at his set and his network. His backdrop was simple; he had no sidekick and no band. Personally, I didn't miss them. But at some point, and I forget the details, he convinced Grant Imahara from "Mythbusters" to build him a robot for a sidekick. Fans supported the idea like crazy on Twitter and other social media outlets. Grant could not ignore them, and Geoff Peterson was born (though perhaps "born" is not the best word to use when referring to a robot skeleton). He started out simply enough, propped behind his podium with a handful of prerecorded phrases. But it gave Craig someone with whom he could interact like the other hosts did. Eventually, Geoff was voiced by Josh Robert Thompson, who is also a whiz at impersonations. I wasn't crazy about the show's new element at first, but he grew on me. Craig seemed to enjoy performing with him, so if he's happy, I'm happy.

And Craig was happy. He often had to take a moment to recover during his monologue because he, "made myself laugh!" And those monologues with beautiful to behold. He may have had a few notes somewhere, but they were basically unscripted. You could see that he followed whatever direction his mind led him. It felt very natural, and funnier than simply reading a stack of ready-made jokes. His interviews followed the same non-structured structure. Craig was comfortable and confident enough to, as guest Jim Parsons said, simply allow things to happen.

I didn't stay up late every night to watch, so I missed several high-quality episodes. Though the show was taped in advance (which he'd also poke fun at), I know that he replaced the taped opening with something serious when national events warranted it, as he did after the tragedies in Boston and in Aurora, Colorado. He spoke to and for regular Americans and did his best to acknowledge what many real people were feeling at that moment in time. 

While many of the guests were the usual actors promoting their current project, it felt like many who visited were there because Craig wanted them to be. There were scientists and authors, and Craig showed genuine interest and carried on intelligent conversations with them. And how many other hosts would spend an entire show talking with Archbishop Desmond Tutu? As I recall, that episode won a Peabody Award. Pretty cool, huh?

As if all those qualities weren't enough, Craig had a TARDIS on his desk. 'Nuff said. (If that means nothing to you, move along...there's nothing for you to see here.)

I've talked before about how I am drawn to watching a series finale, regardless of how attached I've been to the show itself. But rarely has a finale inspired me to seek out videos of some fond memories of that show. Below are two of my favorites from early in my Ferguson habit. The first is from 2010. Craig had a habit of slapping the side of the camera when he opened the show. Apparently, he didn't know his own strength. The second is what may have been my introduction to the show (2009). I remember seeing someone share the video, and I was hooked as soon as I watched. Craig and friends are lip-syncing. No explanation, no special occasion. Just a man having fun, and he happens to be doing it in front of an audience. As he was fond of saying, this show was not like any other talk show.

He opened every episode by saying, "It's a great day for America." With Craig Ferguson on television, it was a great day...at least for the next hour. Thank you for sharing it with us, Craig.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's hard to stay up
It's been a long, long day
And you got the sandman at your door
But hang on, leave the TV on
And let's do it anyway
It's okay, you can always sleep through work tomorrow, okay?
Hey, hey, tomorrow's just your future yesterday.

(The show's theme song, which I will likely still sing at bedtime for awhile.)

Happy Thanksgiving 2014

I just read my Thanksgiving posts for the last four years. I'm pretty proud of myself for putting those thoughts into words! Proud, but almost intimidated...by myself. What else could I possibly say to match what I've already said? Is there even any new approach I can take to honor this holiday?

I decided to start by looking at the word "thanksgiving." Time to visit one of my oft-used sites, Merriam-Webster. When not capitalized and in its simplest form, it means the act of giving thanks. OK, we kind of knew that without looking it up. So, how about "thanks"? We have kindly or grateful thoughts; an expression of gratitude. Now to check the definition of "gratitude": a feeling of appreciation or thanks; the state of being grateful. (I'm seeing a bit of a pattern here.) "Grateful": feeling or showing thanks; appreciative of benefits received; affording pleasure or contentment. One more. Let's look up "pleasure": a feeling of happiness, enjoyment, or satisfaction.

If I put those all together, thanksgiving is expressing appreciation for a feeling of happiness. 

I admit that's an informal, unscientific, subjective definition. But why not use a simple explanation for holiday that began in simpler times? If we strip away the list of "things" we are thankful for, we can get back to just appreciating what we enjoy and what makes us happy. Time with family and friends may make us happy. We may really enjoy curling up with a good book. A cardinal at the bird feeder makes me smile. Someone holding the door for me just to be polite is a little pick-me-up. 

We can be thankful for "stuff," and we should continue to thank those who give us "stuff." We can also be thankful for bigger things, grander concepts and ideas that give us strength or comfort. But we should also remember to just feel happy. Appreciate that happiness. Be thankful for what makes you happy. And don't forget to express your gratitude when someone else has helped you feel that way. Giving thanks will share the happiness.

Writing a little bit in my blog makes me happy. People reading my blog makes me happy. Thank you for helping me feel that happiness. 

I am happy to be thankful and thankful I am happy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving 2013
Thanksgiving 2012
Thanksgiving 2011
Thanksgiving 2010

Mutability

Though I may not have mentioned it here, I have still been trying to keep up with my reading habit. I finished one book I picked up at a thrift store, and it promptly went into my bag of items to deliver to a thrift store. It wasn't really bad, but it's nothing I will ever want to read again or recommend to anyone or offer a rave review. I suppose I could have tossed it aside when I realized it wasn't going to be as enjoyable as the book jacket implied, but I wasn't going to let it make a quitter out of me!

I figured it was time to look for a "seasonal" selection (much like when I started Dracula last Halloween, and finished it in January). I was about to pick a few from a thick collection of ghost stories when I remembered that I have a copy of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Like Dracula, I read it as part of what may have been my favorite college class...and haven't touched it since (except when rearranging the bookshelves). 

It didn't really surprise me that I didn't remember most of the actual story. I knew, of course, that the classic Boris Karloff film was only loosely based on the book but I'd forgotten just how loosely. It really was a fascinating story. I'd made just a few notes in the margins, so there was no risk of me missing the "important" points. It really is so much more than mad scientist, hulking brute, and angry villagers.

At one point in the tale, Victor tries to escape some of his misery by traveling through the mountains. (Yeah, like that's going to fix anything.) I'd underlined a line or two:

Alas! why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.

"We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep. We rise; one wandering thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep, Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free. Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow. Nought may endure but mutability!"

Humans truly are more complicated than just basic instincts!

What really caught my attention, though, was the poem. I checked the footnotes and learned that it's part of the Percy Bysshe Shelley poem "Mutability." (Gee, I wonder how the author became familiar with that poet.) 

There are days we may feel like we're stuck in a rut. Same old, same old. Day after day of the usual stuff. But really, each day is filled with all sorts of wibbley-wobbley things! We may be weeping today and laughing tomorrow. It's said that that the only things certain are death and taxes. While it's true we can rely on them as being inevitable, I would add that the other "constant" in life is change. Seems like a paradox, doesn't it? The more things seem to stay the same, the more they're actually changing. And the "change" is what's really staying the same. (Kind of makes my head hurt to think about it.)

I don't see that as a bad thing. We think, we feel, and we change. It is part of our humanity. If I were writing an essay for a class, I might point out that the "monster" seemed to feel his share of joy and sorrow (as well as anger), so perhaps he was more "human" than he appeared. (But I'm not writing an essay, so I won't try to dig any deeper into that.)

I find myself surprised to have taken away something more than the usual simple pleasure of reading a good book. I think I'll stick with it and see what else I might discover when I least expect it. 

Actually, I did just finish Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (another one from that awesome "Varieties of the Gothic" literature class). That was a lot better than I remembered, too. Time to pick the next book. Since my last choice was from my own shelf, perhaps I should change and get the next one from the library.

Mutability

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;

    How restlessly they speed and gleam and quiver,

Streaking the darkness radiantly! yet soon

Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:—

                                      

Or like forgotten lyres whose dissonant strings

    Give various response to each varying blast,

To whose frail frame no second motion brings

    One mood or modulation like the last.

                                    

We rest—a dream  has power to poison sleep;

    We rise—one wandering thought pollutes the day;

We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep,

Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:—

                                      

It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow,

    The path of its departure still is free;

Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;

    Nought may endure but Mutability.

I Can't Keep EVERY Book

I've mentioned before how I've made a conscious decision to read more. I've picked up a few thrift-store books (Three for a dollar? Can't beat that!) and visited the library once or twice. But I have to be honest with myself. I have dozens of perfectly good choices already on my bookshelves. I recently read Game of Thrones (George R.R. Martin), The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley), a couple by Agatha Christie, and, of course, The Complete Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle). Earlier this year, I proudly completed Dracula (Bram Stoker) for the second time in my life. As soon as I finish the so-so 25-cent book I've got open now, I plan to take another look at Frankenstein (Mary Shelley) and/or The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Robert Louis Stevenson) as seasonal selections.

As I perused my shelves, trying to find the best method of storing them, I came across a few that will not be going on my "to-read" list. I found five that could be considered textbooks! Why do I still have these? I've been out of college for a number of years (that shall remain unspecified). I distinctly remember two, and I expect the others I picked up at garage sales just because I thought I should have more. 

I have nothing in particular against textbooks. I realize that I still have my introductory texts to both psychology and sociology. No, I haven't opened them in longer than I can remember, but I liked those classes and you never know when I might need to look something up! There are a few thick collections of poems, short stories, or plays. Naturally I have more than a few dictionaries, style guides, and other similar reference books. And I will never give up either volume of The Norton Anthology of English Literature (though I'm not sure I will ever open it to read Beowulf again). 

There was a time and a place in my life for these books. But no longer. Now I am glad to say that I read for enjoyment...for me. I discover new authors (recently finished my first by Neil Gaiman) and revisit old favorites (Douglas Adams, I'll be coming back to you). I don't need guides to criticism and theory. Oh, I might subconsciously analyze, compare and contrast, or critique. But I'll do that however it comes naturally. It's time to kick these paperbacks out of the nest.

Oh...that means I have room for a few new books on my shelves. What should I choose next?

Paper or Plastic? What About Paper or...Electronic?

When I heard the "clunk" on the porch today, I assumed the wind had blown something over yet again. I discovered, however, that it was actually the sound of the new phone book being delivered.

That still feels like kind of a big deal, even though I no longer immediately flip to the page where I can see my name in print. (I'll never be a celebrity, so for me it's almost like 15 seconds of my 15 minutes of fame.) We actually get books from two different providers. This is the smaller of the two, so it's more convenient to store in the car or in a tiny nook. Perhaps it's the librarian in my family DNA that gives me a bit of a rush to have so much information at my fingertips. I can look up a phone number for an acquaintance or an address for a business. Local ZIP codes and area codes are there, too, just in case you need to double check one.

Then I wondered, when was the last time I opened the previous edition? Maybe, just maybe, I was trying to get ideas for a different place to eat. Perhaps I looked for a store ad to find out their hours. But realistically, I must admit that I don't use it as often as I used to. Once folks chose to have their numbers "unlisted" or "non-published," it became harder to find the number you needed. Now, of course, many households have only cell phones and no landline so they aren't even included. I also wonder why I ever had to look up a person's number in the first place. If I expect to be calling someone, I'll just ask for the number. If I don't have it, I probably don't need to call them anyway. Besides all that, I must admit that when I want to find that information, I'm more likely to just bring up a search engine on my computer or phone. Is it possible that the printed phone book of our youth has become "old-fashioned"? But we need them for youngsters to sit on to reach the dining room table! (Yes, I remember it being done that way.)

Naturally, that isn't the only thing that could become just a quaint reminder of the past. For several years I've used an electronic calendar. I can have the page open when I'm in front of my computer or have reminders sent right to my phone. I'm still not quite ready, though, to completely ditch something I can actually hold in my hand to flip the pages. We can write things down using different colors of ink or simply "pencil you in." I just hate the thought of being tied to an electronic device for everything. I feel more secure having a real-life record of important (and some not-so-important) dates and events. As I type this, though, I realize that I've long since abandoned my "real" address book. My contacts are stored in various places where I can view them as needed...as long as I have electricity or a wi-fi connection. (That was another nice thing about the old phone book. There was always room inside the cover to jot down your most-used numbers so you didn't have to look them up every single time.)

Don't get me wrong. I love that I have access to so much information with just a few clicks. I can update an address or appointment with a few keystrokes rather than a bottle of Wite-Out. Many tasks have been made so much easier that we can hardly remember how we managed before. But it still makes me nostalgic (as many things do) for how things were done "back in my day." Library lovers lamented the loss of the traditional card catalog at their favorite home for books. Sure, a computer is faster, but it's just not the same. Greeting cards seem to continue to sell well, but in many cases they've been replaced by text messages or posts on social media. (I'm guilty of that, surely. I think I'm more likely to use cards for more serious occasions and big holidays.) I still clip some coupons from the Sunday newspaper (yes, I still read a printed paper), but I also find savings with phone apps or by loading them onto a supermarket loyalty card. I think I have a road atlas in the car, but I'll get directions online or use GPS if I'm looking for a route. (Could anyone successfully fold a road map, anyway?) I use an online dictionary on a regular basis, but I also own several hardcover editions. There's something a little awe-inspiring about seeing all those words, many of which I don't know and may never use. Last month I baked an apple crisp from a recipe in an email newsletter (which I printed out). Last week, though, I made a soup I found while browsing the old Betty Crocker. Sure, I can find thousands of recipes online, but real cookbooks make a kitchen feel more homey. And don't even try to make me give up my Post-it Notes, which are conveniently located in every room in the house.

Online resources and storage can certainly be more efficient and don't use nearly as much paper as they did in their original formats. But I feel more connected to my information if I can actually touch it once in awhile. I'm not ready to transition completely away from that. So if you ever want to know the date of an upcoming event or need to find a phone number, I'll be happy to look it up for you.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Oh, yeah. I guess I'm another year older. I don't feel any different than I did yesterday. Last year was a "milestone" birthday, so this year isn't anything extraordinary. What makes adult birthdays different than those we eagerly anticipated and celebrated when we were younger?

When I was a kid, I don't think I actually marked off days on a calendar, but I'm sure I paid special attention to the date and had my own internal mental countdown. Then, I know I would look forward to those extra special birthdays: finally a teenager, able to get a driver's license, old enough to drink and vote, no longer being a teenager. After that, the big birthdays are spaced farther apart. I remember 25 being kind of a big deal, as in a quarter-century. After that, they're all kind of the same except for the "0" years. 

I probably wore something special to school on my birthday. (Of course, back then, I don't think I even had a pair of jeans, and we wore dresses on a regular basis.) And there was usually a new piece of clothing or an accessory to wear the next day. I didn't exactly dress up today, but I did put on some nicer pants and a new shirt instead of just a sweatshirt and jeans.

After supper we'd get ready for the family party, including grandparents, aunt and uncle, and the cousins. It wasn't really a huge group, but in hindsight I kind of wonder how we all fit in the house. I suppose the kids went to the playroom for most of the evening. I think those events are when I started to really appreciate the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I had one party for school friends, I think in first grade. My roommates threw a surprise party for me in my senior year of college (which was pretty awesome!). In my 20s, I suppose I'd go out for drinks with friends. My parents would drive over almost every year for a birthday visit for more than 20 years. Today, I had lunch with the girlfriends, which is just as meaningful as any big party.

I couldn't say that I used to get a special birthday supper. But Mother was kind enough to serve something other than liver and beets, I'm sure. And we each had our own birthday cake. (Mine was confetti angel food.) One year she even sent a "scathing" letter to the manufacturer because there was no little packet of confetti in the cake-mix box! She'd often bring a cake along on those visits after I moved away from home. Sometimes, as an adult, we'd go out to eat for something special if we felt like it. Tonight, I had my favorite pizza. And I made a cake for myself just because I had a hankering for some.

A side note: I started writing this Tuesday night but was too sleepy to finish. Now I'm trying to remember what else I wanted to say!

I suppose the gist of what was running through my mind is this: Childhood birthdays may have included cakes with candles, parties, wrapped gifts, and mailed cards. Later in life, we may have shared dinners, cocktails, and casual gatherings. These days, birthdays for me are quite low-key. Some actual cards to hold and read, some electronic greetings. "Happy Birthday" sung over the telephone. Gathering with friends on my Facebook page.

Several people wished for me a fabulous day with a reminder to do something extra special just for me. My birthday wish for myself? That I continue to celebrate each and every birthday. Each one is a gift that should be treasured. Every day should be cherished! And I think I should do something special for myself every day, too. It could be an extra piece of chocolate, a favorite book, a phone call to a loved one, a personal positive affirmation, or just a silent moment of reflection. 

I don't need candles to blow out. I just need to blow away the dust of monotony and complaceny. I need to celebrate ME!

Pink Glove Dance Competition

OK, I'm not big on sharing links just for the heck of it. But the link below leads to a video filled with people enjoying life!

It’s also part of the Pink Glove Dance competition; prizes will be awarded to breast cancer charities in the name of the winning group. If you vote and help Bellin Health (one of our local health care providers) win, the Ribbon of Hope Foundation will be the recipient of a great donation.

There are folks in this video who are dear to me, and I’m not talking about the Packers. But whether or not you see anyone you know, just trust me and give it a peek. You can’t help but feel the joy in simply living life!

I just voted for this Pink Glove Dance Competition video. Check it out!

What Should I Write? Or Read?

I can't claim to have writer's block, per se, since I don't have any writing assignments, projects, or deadlines looming.

But every now and again I notice that it's been weeks since I've written here and I almost feel guilty about it. Why have I not been inspired? Shouldn't I be making myself write about something?

I finished reading Game of Thrones. It was long and intense, but good. (Novelists amaze me by developing so many characters, settings, and plots.) I have no plans to rush out and get the second book in the series (though if I came across it by accident I would read it). We don't have HBO, so I won't be watching it...and I'm OK with that. 

I also read Sandra of the Girl Orchestra, a 1946 Whitman mystery for young adults. My mom got it as a gift when she was a teen. With a title like that, I simply had to read it. It felt good to get through a "fluffy" book in one evening.

Back to "heavier" reading, I'm now enjoying The Mists of Avalon. Arthurian legend from a woman's perspective? Yes, please!

And how could I forget that the new season of Doctor Who has begun?! 

What else? I sent The Son back to college. It was nice having him home for the summer, but it was time for him to get back to doing what he really wants to do. And it's time for me to remember that my day-to-day role as a mother now is not the same as it was 10 or 15 years ago. It's hard to explain, but it felt perfectly natural to leave him at the dorm. I could truly feel that right now, that is where he belongs.

So it's been just the same-old same-old around here. If you have any book suggestions for me or a blog post topic to request, please leave a comment or drop me a line.

September has several "holidays" (depending on your definition of "holiday"), so I'll likely be back here before you know it!

"I Just Read Books"

I just read books.

Robert Redford's character in Three Days of the Condor said those words at least twice in the film. Once, quite enthusiastically, when he called "the office" to tell them that his colleagues had all been killed. He later tried to explain his job to Faye Dunaway's character.

Spoilers if you haven't seen the film or read the book.

The poor guy comes back with lunch for everyone and finds them all gunned down. Sure, he works for the CIA, but as he tells his contact, "I'm not a field agent. I just read books." He'd rather not have to concern himself with code names, secret procedures, or weapons. He just wants to not be shot like the rest of the team was.

He decides that he may have to take responsibility for his own survival. He gets help from a photographer he meets and tries to explain to her that his job involves reading "everything that's published" to look for any kind of valuable intelligence information. As he tells her, "I work for the CIA, but I am not a spy. I just read books."

In the game of international intrigue, he doesn't consider himself to be important. He doesn't travel overseas, listen in on phone conversations, track anyone's movements, or slip poison into cocktails. He simply gathers information. He doesn't play any big role in the big picture. As the movie continues, we find that he read something more valuable than he realized. 

You never know what you'll discover when you're reading. Authors can lead you far away in space and time. If you let yourself, you may be introduced to all sorts of new people, places, and things. Unfamiliar behaviors or feelings may be set before you. Books might make you really ponder, or they may let you escape. There is no limit on what the words can offer.

I am also not a field agent or a spy.

I am not just an elf, a princess, a space traveler, or a consulting detective.

I am all of these things. And more. Because I don't just read books.

I read books!

An Inside Joke?

We were watching something on Logo TV the other day (don't even remember what, to be honest), when I saw something during a commercial break. Apparently they call it a Logo Quickie. The video doesn't work in all browsers, so here are some quick screen captures:

Now, I will never go to Comic-Con, and I'm OK with that. I enjoy reading about it and looking at pictures, but a crowd like that just isn't my thing. I also don't see any cosplay in my future. 

But it's not often that I see a reference to "Grey Gardens." That's something I've actually watched! Well...part of it. It's also not often I see or hear the word "staunch," unless I'm watching "Grey Gardens." Or, unless I'm reading my own blog post about "Staunch Women." Or, when I'm hanging out with my two best friends, which I did just three days ago. 

I'm going to take it as the universe telling us, "You've got a good group of girlfriends there. Stick with 'em, and stay staunch!"

Not that I needed a reminder. of that. I was already planning to do just that.

Everyone is an Artist

Sometimes it's easy to forget that we all have an artistic side. 

My dad had hobbies. He might make name and address signs for the end of the driveway. Some years he had a garden, flowers or vegetables, indoors or outside. He poured wax into molds for "homemade" candles. Lots and lots of candles. He tended to the family's aquarium. Piece by piece he'd complete a jigsaw puzzle. He made unique greeting cards for the family. I remember one year when we all got calendars with special photos and dates included. And he went through a "plaster" phase, with molds and items intended for other uses which became molds in his workshop.

Now, you might not have guessed he was creative with shapes and textures and colors. He was a hard-working blue-collar man all of his life. But with any of his hobbies, he found something he enjoyed regardless of whether anyone expected him to enjoy it. He wasn't making things to sell, though some items became gifts. I imagine he did it just to try something different and to have a little fun. I think that if a hobby became expensive, boring, or too much like work, he'd move on to something else.

I spent just a little time with family over the weekend, deciding what pieces of Daddy's artwork we each wanted to keep and which could be comfortably discarded. I'm not sure if anyone else will be taking the "hand" below, but I really felt a strong need to take a picture of it before I left. (I wrote a few weeks ago about my recent interest in taking photos just because something has caught my eye.) The more I look at that picture and think about my dad's creations, the more I'm inspired to continue exploring my own creativity. If he could do it, so can I! I think we'd all do well to find our favorite artistic medium. Share it with the public or keep it private, just for you. Broad strokes or baby steps. Paint, music, dance, theater, writing, cooking, sewing, gardening, decorating, drawing, jewelry...or even plaster with food coloring. Don't be afraid to get in touch with your own personal artistic side.

Happy 4th of July!

The day is coming to a close and no particular spark of inspiration struck me to write a stirring, patriotic post. But it's not a day that any American should treat as just another summer day. And you know how I hate not posting on a holiday!

It was a gorgeous day, weather-wise. Perfect for mowing the front yard. Then I decided to use up some mature fruit and made banana bread. I had no desire to fight the crowds downtown for music and food and fireworks. All those years working in the hotel's beer tent gave me my fill of that experience, I think. 

I did watch some Captain America on TV. That's patriotic. I also watched a few Twilight Zone episodes on SyFy. I'm not sure how that became a network tradition. The show doesn't really scream "celebration" to me. I suppose, though, that it is a classic American show.

I did, of course, hang out my American flag as soon as I got up this morning. It's the least I can do to show my pride in and respect for my country. 

It's so easy to complain about what's wrong with the nation. We're likely all guilty of it every now and then. And who would deny that things don't always work the way the founding fathers intended? Crime, poverty, unemployment. Too many laws restricting our freedoms. Not enough laws protecting our rights. Everyone has an opinion, and it is their right to voice that opinion. 

But sometimes, we all need to step back and consider the old "grass is always greener" trap. It's easy to say, "Life would be better if Politician X were elected," or, "It sure would be nice if the government did more of XYZ (or less of it)." 

Take a look at the big picture, though. This is still a pretty awesome country to call home. We have our faults, but we don't have an insane dictator who wants only wealth and power. Now, some of you might not even agree with that. But here, it's OK to disagree with your government. You can think whatever you care to think. We have cities that are dangerous, to be sure. But our country is not ravaged by years of constant warfare with explosions and gunfire making it impossible to feel safe for even a moment. Homelessness and poverty are issues across the land, but there are people who try to help with the resources they can find. Be honest: There are a lot of countries in which it would be much less pleasant to live. 

The United States is far from perfect. But I hope everyone can, at least for one day each year, be proud to be an American. I am!

Note: I think I expressed my patriotism and pride better in previous years (see posts from 2013 and 2012). I already used up my best material there! I'll try for a new approach to the holiday next year. 

Where'd Everybody Go?

Every now and again, I click "Next Blog" at the top of the page just to browse what else is out there. 

Often, the next blog isn't written in English. Next. Sometimes the topic just doesn't interest me. Next. In many cases, there hasn't been a new post in more than a year. Next.

Wait a minute. More than a year? Yes, I've even come across some that have been inactive for four years. That seems like a long time to go between inspirational moments. I started to wonder, just for curiosity's sake, why so many seem to have fallen by the proverbial wayside.

I admit I've never been on a strict writing schedule. I'll often go a week or two between posts, occasionally a month or two. When nothing strikes me for a topic, I'll usually just jot down a few sentences to let my "audience" know I haven't deserted my post. (Wow, I used "post" as in "station" while I'm talking about "post" as in writing/publishing. Sorry. I swear it was unintentional.) Some bloggers have likely just fallen out of the habit. Real life has a way of getting, well, in the way!

Some folks probably just jumped on the blogging bandwagon when it passed by. That may have been part of what got me started. Everyone who's anyone is blogging. Then, the initial excitement of a new venture wears off. Not sure why this is fun for anyone. And when it becomes more effort than any reward you're getting (i.e., personal satisfaction), it's not worth the trouble.

I also suspect that some writers have incorporated their blogs into a more complete website, either personal or professional. They may offer other services as an individual, or their posts are part of their company's plan to connect with customers. And I've seen a few notes that direct visitors to the writer's "new" blog. (I haven't clicked through any of those.) Perhaps they changed directions or just found another platform for their blog.

There are lots of reasons that blogs become idle. And believe me, I'm not judging. I'm just...curious. It's like looking at photos of an abandoned shopping mall or ramshackle hospital. (Ooh, it's not often you can work the word "ramshackle" into an everyday conversation!) You can imagine what an average day was like there, but you don't know for sure.

I wonder what the stories are behind those forsaken pages?

Am I Becoming a Shutterbug?

I seem to be going through a photography phase. It's nothing serious, really. I'm just using my phone to take pictures when nature's beauty seems to jump out at me. I have an actual camera somewhere. (My son borrowed it, but though it made the trip back from college, I'm not sure where it landed.) 

Nothing planned, nothing posed. More of an, "Ooh, I'd like a picture of that." Perhaps since I've returned to enjoying the beauty of the written word I'm more sensitive to visual beauty, as well. (See what I thought of the last book I read here.) Or maybe it's part of my renewed awareness of the simple magic in everyday life (which I acknowledged to myself here). Of course, springtime is filled with beautiful imagery. We'll see if I can remember to notice the beauty when the snow is covering the ground, too.

My son has been taking art and design classes. Maybe I figure if he can expand his horizons in that direction, so can I. One of my best girlfriends has picked up her acrylics again after several years and is rediscovering her love of painting. Maybe the idea of finding another creative outlet has rubbed off on me.

Whatever the reason, it makes me happy. These aren't award-winning photos. They won't be in a show or a gallery (though some have made it to my Facebook page). But they've captured some beautiful moments for me. And it can't hurt to catch and hold onto beauty when you find it.

Father's Day

I wasn't going to write a post today. I can't send him good wishes and love in person, by phone, or through the mail. (I do try to blog for him every Christmas though.) But then a few random thoughts popped into my head. Perhaps he's nudging me...

I do love and miss my dad. As I think is often the case, I probably didn't realize the depth of our connection until after he passed away. But there wasn't any unfinished business between us. I know he loved me, and he knew I loved him.

I realize, however, that some people do not love, don't have contact with, or maybe don't even know their father. A strained relationship...or no relationship.

But good or bad, your dad (and mom, too) had an effect on who you've become. You either learned how to be the person you want to be, or discovered what you don't want to be. Positive or negative, your dad is part of what makes you...you. You can thank him or blame him. But you have to admit that as an adult, what  you do with that information is up to you. It's your identity, under your control. 

I'm glad I had a dad who pointed me in the right direction.

And I had one more thought; this one actually came to me as I was falling asleep last night. I was fortunate enough to have my dad for 47 years. Years before me, however, was a sister I never met, and who was only able to spend moments with my parents. If I feel a twinge of sadness that my dad isn't here to be honored on this holiday, I can remember that he's getting a chance to catch up on lots of missed time with another one of his babies. And they both deserve that.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy!

03/03/32 - 12/12/10

Who Knew I'd Enjoy This Book?

I feel pretty good about my efforts to get back in the habit of reading on a regular basis. I'll admit I'm not reading every day, but I am picking up a book several times a week. Reading is good for you and fun, too (if you're doing it right)!

Early this year, I reread Dracula. (I wrote about how proud I was of myself here.) This spring, I finished one of my Sherlock Holmes collections. (More pride in myself here.) And this was all part of my deliberate attempts to enjoy the pleasure to be found in a good book. (Happily, I didn't give up after I read some so-so stories.)

After Sherlock, I wasn't sure which direction I should take next. Should I stick with the "classics" that I already own and probably read years ago in college? Should I find out what my friends are reading? Or perhaps I should just randomly choose something more modern at the library. So many choices!

As it happens, my son had just finished a book and he was anxious for me to give it a shot. I wasn't sure what to expect from a book titled Mogworld with what looked like a zombie on the cover. Hmm, there's also a bunny rabbit on the cover. This could be interesting. I was also hesitant because I'm not a gamer, and I don't think I fit into many of the target-audience categories. (The author, Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw, reviews games in a video series titled Zero Punctuation on escapistmagazine.com.)

I have to say, however, that I was pleasantly surprised. It opened at a magic school, but this is no Harry Potter wannabe. Add a necromancer and hijinks ensue. No, really...hijinks, antics, and mischief. There is also adventure, and a major plot twist that completely caught me off guard. I snickered, chuckled, and laughed (or at least smiled) on virtually every page. The style reminded me of Douglas Adams (though no one is really in the same category as Adams). I could also imagine it as a movie in the style of Mel Brooks. There are certainly some adult situations and language, but it wasn't enough to bother or offend me.

I may not be the audience for whom he was aiming, but he hit the target nonetheless. (See what I did there? "Aiming"? "Target"? Give me a break. It's late and I amuse myself.) I admit it: It actually held my interest and made me eager to find out what was going to happen next.

I'm glad I tried something new. And I'm glad I'm rekindling my joy of reading. 

What have you been reading lately?

Just Checking In

I see by the clock on the wall (or rather, by the dates on my posts) that I haven't written in a few weeks. Apparently nothing particularly exciting has happened around here...which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Let's see if I can come up with a few things worth noting.

I was washing a sink load of dishes one night (ooh! aah!). A juice glass broke in my hand. Nothing delicate or particularly fragile. One of the more "sturdy" glasses actually. As I was rubbing the dish cloth around the rim it just snapped. Cue the bleeding! Took a nice gouge out of my right index finger by the middle knuckle. Not an easy place to keep a bandage, but it's healing up nicely. I'll likely have a bit of a scar by which I can always remember the moment. It will match the similar one on my pinkie that I got about 30 years ago, also when a glass broke while I was washing it. I may have to stop doing household chores if they're going to be so dangerous!

I was careful to not feel too sorry for myself over a minor inconvenience. Another of my friends has been diagnosed with cancer. Though we haven't seen each other in decades, I've known him for over 40 years (since elementary school)! Facebook allowed us to get back in touch. We get along great there, and he's always got something interesting to say. I hope it helps keep his spirit strong to share his experiences and get so much loving support from friends across the country. We all wish him healing. As I wrote almost two years ago, I'd rather be counting six degrees of Kevin Bacon than so many degrees of cancer.

One of my dearest friends finally turned 50. I think she's realized that it's not as bad as it's sometimes made out to be. She wanted to go for lunch at our favorite "girls' weekend" haunt. So the three of us, plus a friend of one, plus one of the birthday girl's friends from way back (even before we met!) went on a little road trip. As difficult as it can be to hold a conversation in the car, we managed quite well, especially considering some of us were meeting for the first time. As we were enjoying our tasty tavern treats, we were trying to explain some of the reasons we enjoy the place so much. We gave an example of two colorful characters we met on our very first visit. We told them the explanation we had been given for one fellow's nickname. Let's just say he had uniquely destroyed some of his family's property...twice. As we're sharing the story, one of the gals noticed some folks at the end of the bar paying extremely close attention to us. Lo and behold, it was one of the people about whom we'd just been talking! Yes, someone we met once five years ago and who has become part of our lore was mere feet away. He was an incredibly good sport and shared the story again of how he got his nickname. It may not sound like much here, but it was such an unexpected coincidence that we laughed about it repeatedly the rest of the day.

Our weather has finally fallen into sync with the calendar. I think I'm appreciating the tulips, lilacs, and lily of the valley more than I have in years. The sights and sounds are more spectacular than ever after the nasty winter we endured. 

We have reached the unofficial beginning of summer and it couldn't be sweeter. The only cloud was the thought of all the lives lost over the years, those we honor on Memorial Day. We can be proud of those who answered the call to service and mourn those that never came home to enjoy the freedoms for which they fought and sacrificed. Thank you.

Here's hoping you're enjoying your everyday life, as well. Don't forget to check in once in a while!


Memorial Day 2013

It's Nice to be in a Village

I realize yesterday was Mother's Day. I already tossed out a few thoughts about The Stages of Motherhood. But with all things maternal so top-of-mind, I realized something else for which I am grateful at all those stages. Being a mom would be a lot more difficult without other moms.

Now, you may have your own feelings about the whole "it takes a village" approach to raising children. Personally, I can't see myself in any sort of commune situation where everyone is literally taking care of everyone else when it comes to daily needs. But having the support of other women, especially when I was a new mother, was invaluable.

Not surprisingly, my first resources to consult were my own family. But my mother, sister, and in-laws were all in a different city. And I already knew that some of their styles didn't really fit our personalities. Add to that the fact that I'm the baby of the family and our son is five years younger than the next oldest grandchild...not a huge generation gap, but enough. (I am eternally grateful, however, that they saved onesies and pajamas and such and passed them on to me!)

Better than any book or TV show were the women I worked with and those within my circle of friends. There were several who were at a similar stage in their life. We each occasionally had schmutz on our clothing or bags under our eyes. Which pediatrician do you like? Let's trade coupons for diapers! Yes, that first tooth is painful, isn't it.

And who else can feel your "pain" on that first day of kindergarten? Can you pick him up for school in the morning? That sounds like an awesome field trip! You're right; let the kids work it out for themselves. I'd love to come to your child's performance! What time is graduation rehearsal? 

Sharing information, giving advice (when asked), and talking things out with someone facing the same situations makes the whole process run a little more smoothly and, perhaps, even more fulfilling. It's one more thing to bring us all closer together. We look out for each other and for each other's kids. It's not about overstepping our bounds. It's about recognizing that we have the same basic goals and concerns.

We're no longer talking about the "pink stuff" for ear infections. We're talking about our children as adults, and our lives as mothers of adult children. But we're still talking. And we still know that being a mother would be a lot harder without the other mothers who have taken and are taking that similar journey.

The Stages of Motherhood

I've been wondering what to write this year for Mother's Day. I've tried to honor my mom here before, so you already know some of the reasons I'm glad she's my mother. But I've come to realize that most of those reasons are difficult to identify or explain. It's hard to pick out any one particular time she did any one thing with us or for us. There are too many to name! She's really just a complete package.

I will say that especially over the last year or so, I've come to appreciate her so much more than I already did. Every time I have a new mom moment of my own, I gain a new understanding of what her perspective may have been when she had those same moments. 

That also got me to thinking about how you never really stop being a mother once you've become one. About 19 years ago, motherhood for me was a lot of feeding and changing and soothing. Hard work, no matter how well you're prepared. But so much love and joy just to see those little toes and hear those giggles! Naturally I don't remember it, but Mom fed me and changed me and soothed me, too. I hope I had cute toes and made her smile with my giggles, too.

Especially in those early years, there are so many "firsts." Crawling, teeth, words, steps...those moments that only happen for the first time once. If you're smart, you count your blessings as you wonder if life could get any better than watching this little baby grow (too quickly) into a regular little person. Even though I'm the third child, I have no doubt that my milestones were met with excitement, too.

Then you move into years with more new situations as your child begins to learn more about the world outside of your arms. They find people, places, and things they like as well as those they dislike. They may not like the rules you put into place as you figure out what is best for your family. The light bulb finally comes on brightly as you look back and realize your mom wasn't trying to be mean; she was trying to keep you healthy, safe, and smart. 

You may reach a point when it seems like you're always making something or doing something or driving your child somewhere. I remember thinking how proud I was that my son was discovering and enjoying and performing and exploring. Then I remembered that my mom spent a lot of time in the car with me, picking up this, dropping me off there. I thanked her specifically for that (only 30+ years after the fact).

Last year we hit the milestone of graduation. I didn't cry, really, but I could feel the love and pride running through my body as he walked across the stage in his cap and gown. When I was 18, it never really occurred to me to consider what my mom was feeling at the time. Now, I knew.

We've made it through my son's first year of college away from home. That's an adjustment for me. He's not here every night when I go to bed. I'm not asking him to take care of his laundry or calling him downstairs for supper. He's doing his own thing and living a responsible life. I'm here when he needs me, of course, but his daily life is his life, not mine. Ah, yes...my mom wasn't being nosy about my college friends. She just wanted to keep in touch because she loves me.

As he moves further into adulthood, my role as mother will continue to change. If I've got questions on how to deal with those adjustments, I'll think back to myself at that age...and I'll ask my mom to remind me what worked for her.

Every mother is different, just like every child is different. We have our strengths and our weaknesses. But just like life in general, motherhood isn't about the destination. It's not about getting through 18 years and then putting away the "mom" hat. It's about the journey. Your child changes and grows but will always be your child. And even though I'm no longer rocking my "little one" to sleep, I will still always be his mom...at all stages of our lives.

I'll love you forever.

I'll like you for always.

As long as I'm living,

My baby you'll be.

--Robert Munsch, Love You Forever

Happy Mother's Day from one mother to another!

Mother's Day 2013
Mother's Day 2012

Should We Be Counting Six Degrees of Mark Sheppard?

As is usual on a Tuesday, I watched Supernatural tonight. Lots to love about the show if you enjoy plots that revolve around, well, "supernatural" activities. (If you're not familiar with it, you can get the basics about the show from the IMDb listing here.)

One character that brings a little extra fun to the episode is Crowley, the king of hell. (Yeah, I know how that sounds. It's a TV show...fiction. Trust me that it works in this context.) The reason the character is so appealing has got to be because he's played by actor Mark Sheppard. He expertly brings a mix of charisma, evil, and wit to the role. I've been entertained by him in everything I've seen him in. And he's been in those shows that I consider favorites: Supernatural, Firefly, Doctor Who, Warehouse 13...and those are just off the top of my head.

A friend pointed out, "Mark Sheppard is in pretty much every show I love, and if he's not, I expect him to show up in future episodes." That wouldn't surprise me one bit, but it did make me curious. What exactly has he been in? So, I looked up his listing on IMDb (which, if you haven't guessed, is one of the sites I visit on a regular basis). In addition to the shows I listed above, I was reminded of his role on White Collar. Yes, I like that show, though I can't always keep track of when seasons start and end on the cable schedules. Oh, look. He's been on Leverage. I'd only caught a few episodes before that series ended. Now I've got another reason to find a source to view the whole thing. He was on Chuck twice (I was a fan). Three times on Dollhouse (another short-lived Joss Whedon show). Looks like six times on the most recent Battlestar Galactica. That's already on my list of shows with which I need to become familiar. One visit each to Burn Notice, In Plain Sight, Monk, and The X-Files. Liked, liked, liked, and liked.

His credits go back more than 20 years. That seems pretty impressive to me. You might recognize his face if you saw it, but you might not know his name unless you're a geek, especially when it comes to sci-fi television (like me).

If asked, I wouldn't call him a "leading man," but he's no "sidekick" either. He brings some type of charm and mischievousness to the table that makes him a pleasure to watch. Keep an eye out for him. You might just find yourself becoming a fan, too.