New Hope For Early Diagnosis Of Pancreatic Cancer?

Does this article in Scientific American give us false hope, or could it be that at last researchers may be onto a way to detect symptoms of early stages of pancreatic cancer early enough to make a difference?

"The failure to detect pancreatic cancer until after it has progressed to a fatal stage has long been the bane of doctors and the demise of patients. Imaging the out-of-the-way organ with MRI or CT scans often fails to catch tumors and, so far, there are no reliable blood-based markers for the disease.

For most patients--including actor Patrick Swayze, who died this week as a result of this aggressive malignancy--abdominal pain, weight loss and jaundice are the disease's first indicators, and their onset usually occurs after the cancer has metastasized, erasing any possible benefit of surgery.

Approximately 42,000 people in the U.S. will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer this year. Nearly all of them will succumb to the disease, 76 percent within the first year after diagnosis. Swayze managed to battle his cancer for 20 months, 12 more than the median survival time.

New hope for improved detection comes in the form of small RNA molecules called microRNAs. For pancreatic cancer, scientists have catalogued dozens of microRNAs whose levels are different than in healthy samples. Even if measuring microRNAs does not turn out to be sensitive enough for general screening, it would arm doctors with a great tool for screening at-risk individuals."

When a celebrity passes away, we the public feel we should be privy to any and all of the private pain and agony suffered throughout the illness. Just as in the case of Michael Landon, when Patrick Swayze's body could no longer fight the cancer in his pancreas, he left his body behind.

The hope that the article in Scientific American gives me is personal. My son-in-law spoke of pain in his lower back when we were all together for Thanksgiving. I told him that sounded like a kidney problem and suggested he see a doctor soon. He was a big strapping, handsome, athletic, intelligent young man. He and my daughter were expecting their first child. The baby was born the end of March, and three months later my son-in-law passed away. He had lost weight and had little energy and was unable to work at the time his son was born. That was seventeen years ago. He was twenty nine years old. Every time I read about someone in the public eye who loses the battle with pancreatic cancer, I hurt so much for their family and for thousands of others whose names are not known publicly but who are dying of this horrible disease, and their families. I know the researchers are working hard to eliminate all cancer, and I want so desperately to see the end of cancer in my lifetime.

Smile, You're on Candid Futurama Camera

"Pictures of grinning kids may reveal more than childhood happiness: a study from DePauw University shows that how intensely people smile in childhood photographs, as indicated by crow’s feet around the eyes, predicts their adult marriage success. According to the research, people whose smiles were weakest in snapshots from childhood through young adulthood were most likely to report being divorced in middle and old age. Among the weakest smilers in college photographs, one in four ended up divorcing, compared with one in 20 of the widest smilers. The same pattern held among even those pictured at an average age of 10.

The paper builds on a 2001 study by psychologists at the University of California, Berkeley, that tracked the well-being and marital satisfaction of women from college through their early 50s. That work found that coeds whose smiles were brightest in their senior yearbook photographs were most likely to be married by their late 20s, least likely to remain single into middle age, and happiest in their marriage; they also scored highest on measures of overall well-being (including psychological and physical difficulties, relationships with others and general self-satisfaction)."

This article was in a recent issue of Scientific American.

Why Does Music Make Us Feel?

When I read this article in Scientific American, two things jumped out: First, that the article was not asking if music made us feel, it was clear that music does make us feel; secondly, that the article didn't require how music makes us feel, either sad or happy or melancholy or any number of reactions.

"...music does emanate from our alarm clocks in the morning, and fill our cars, and give us chills, and make us cry. According to a recent paper by Nidhya Logeswaran and Joydeep Bhattacharya from the University of London, music even affects how we see visual images. In the experiment, 30 subjects were presented with a series of happy or sad musical excerpts. After listening to the snippets, the subjects were shown a photograph of a face. Some people were shown a happy face – the person was smiling - while others were exposed to a sad or neutral facial expression. The participants were then asked to rate the emotional content of the face on a 7-point scale, where 1 mean extremely sad and 7 extremely happy.

...The researchers found that music powerfully influenced the emotional ratings of the faces. Happy music made happy faces seem even happier while sad music exaggerated the melancholy of a frown. A similar effect was also observed with neutral faces. The simple moral is that the emotions of music are “cross-modal,” and can easily spread from sensory system to another.

...Music is exquisitely emotionally evocative, which is why a touch of happy music makes even unrelated pictures seem more pleasant.

...Regardless of whether music is emotional intonation from speech or a summary of expressive movements – or something else altogether – the new research by Logeswaran and Bhattacharya adds yet more fuel to the expectation that music has been culturally selected to sound like an emotionally expressive human. While it is not easy for us to see the human ingredients in the modulations of pitch, intensity, tempo and rhythm that make music, perhaps it is obvious to our auditory homunculus."

Music has been almost as important to me in my life as breathing. Music helped save my mind and my spirit as a child and has filled my heart and fed my soul throughout my life.

One of the many blessings for me in being married to my dear husband is that he is a musician and he understands my need for music because music is as necessary to him as it is to me.

Remembering Jimi My Second Main Man Hendrix

James Marshall Hendrix (born Johnny Allen Hendrix; November 27, 1942 – September 18, 1970).

September 18 2006 I wrote a post in remembrance of Jimi Hendrix.

Because Jimi Hendrix was, is, and always will be an inspiration to my guitar playing hubby, today's post is commemorating the extraordinary talent of a musician who is still popular today.

"I want to do with my guitar what Little Richard does with his voice."

Jimi was able to do that and surpass anything he could imagine at that time.

Jimi, we still think of you as the best of the best.

Some Dogs Are Treated Better Than The Wife

Most families with pets don't actually think of the pet as an animal, it is part of the family. A loved one. If the house caught on fire it would be a tough quick-thinking decision whether to run back and save the wife or the dog. Of course, I am seeing this from the wife's perspective. Perhaps there are women out there who prefer the dog. I'm just not one of them.

I've been treated like a dog in past relationships, but in this marriage I am top dog so to speak (if there were a pet). Of course there is no pet to compete with but I am pretty sure that hubby would run back in and get me first.

I've had acquaintances who talked to their dogs nicer than they talked to their spouse. "Oh, sweety, you have such a cute butt". "Come here and give me a big wet kiss". In a sing-song voice of seduction. If I happened to be looking in another direction, I would have thought they were talking to their spouse. I would end up an evening with these people thinking why couldn't they have as much fun and show as much attention to their spouse.

These have been my kind of examples in life. I try to learn from all my experiences.

In actuality, I can't have a dog right now and I do love them very much. So does hubby. I love to see photos of people's pets and I get to share the fun and adventures when I read other blogs, sort of an aunt.

A Tribute To My Father-In-Law

One of the reasons I enjoy finding blogs written by school teachers has to be because my father-in-law taught school for thirty two years. One of his other titles was coach. He coached in the school system as well as little league teams during the years his sons played ball. The older son played football, the sport in which he excelled. That son is my husband.

Being a good teacher and coach and husband and father seemed to come naturally to my father-in-law. He had strength and was a strong disciplinarian tempered with wisdom to show a kind and gentle spirit to his family.

My father-in-law and I never met. He passed away many years before I met his son. But I like hearing stories from my brother-in-law and sister-in-law about their dad and I have adopted him as my dad. My husband has told me that I have things in common with "our" dad, whose name was Jim. We both were fans of John Wayne movies. We spent lots of time playing ball and also watching ball games. We shared a passion for reading. We placed a high priority on the importance of family.

In our living room there is a plaque on the wall in a place of honor at the front door. Next to the insignia of the high school there are the words "With deep appreciation for 32 years of service and dedication to high school students" and the name of the high school with the dates 1959-1981. My father-in-law's name is in big letters on the top of the plaque.

The most important interest we share is the love for my husband. It would have been great to have met and spent time with Jim, but I am blessed to be married to his son, who is the most interesting person I have ever known, and I believe some of his charisma and intelligence came from my father-in-law.

Are Legs Lucky Or Are Lucky's Legs Lucky?

The title of the story is Lucky Gets New Legs. But the picture was what caught my eye. So I read the story.
This turtle was aptly named. This is a story of courage, determination, and love.
This turtle's story is an inspiration.

The Day The Ducks Were All In A Row

Ah, camping, nature, peace and quiet. Camping was something my children and I did several times a year. Sometimes we would take a road trip to different states and stay in a campground we would find along the way. We carried a large book of national campsites in the car. One memory that jumps out when I think of camping is of my daughters constructing daisy chains in a field near a campground in Kentucky and wearing the daisy chains on their heads. It made me want to cry to see them find something fun and innovative and get in the spirit of the camping trip.

Years later I was camping with friends and family at a membership campground. This campground was large yet each campsite was among trees and natural settings of leaves, bushes, downed logs, and lots of critters. Campers fished in a large lake on which ducks swam and played. I would sit on a bench under trees and read, catching sight of the ducks paddling around in the lake and enjoy the serenity.

One day a large white duck was not keeping up with the flock and was circling slowly in a small area close to the edge of the lake. I watched closely. I called to the duck. I ran back to my campsite and scavenged bread and popcorn to persuade the duck, who I was now calling Trouble, to come closer. He wasn't enticed by the food, but his friends were and soon they were out of the water, waddling and squawking. Fortunately, I had brought lots of bread and popcorn, so I started feeding the ducks and watching Trouble carefully lumber across the grass toward where the action was.
As he approached, I could see what was causing his distress. A fishing hook was caught in his leg and many feet of fishing line was following in his wake. I gasped, frightening the healthy ducks eating out of my hand.

There was absolutely NO WAY I could walk away from Trouble and leave him to his own devices. I ran back to the campsite again, this time to get my brother to help me, and I picked up pliers, first aid kit, and hydrogen peroxide and returned to the lake.
Using the same ploy of feeding the ducks, Trouble tried to join his friends at the side of the lake. As my brother fed the flock, I slowly advanced upon Trouble, gently talking to him. I reached his side and picked him up in my arms and when I looked at the red, swollen leg and the rusty fish hook, I knew it was the right thing to help him.

So with my brother holding Trouble, I never stopped the soothing talk as I used the pliers to pull out the fish hook, then poured hydrogen peroxide into the wound several times. Then I took Trouble out of my brother's hands and I carried him to the edge of the lake, waded in a few feet, set him into the water and wished him well.

During the next few days, my brother would join me in my visits to the lake to see how Trouble was doing. Each time we came to the bench we used to help Trouble, a large white duck hanging back from the rest of the ducks would quack at us. On the fourth day, as we walked to the lake, we could see all the ducks in a row, paddling and ducking and splashing. And one big white duck quacking loudly at us.

Patriot Day

There is so much I am still feeling and reading about that I can't say it yet. This was such a shock that morning to be driving to work and turned on the radio to hear the tail end of someone talking about what looked like a war had begun and that this country had never seen anything like it. I did not know the country they were talking about was this country, the USA. I remember thinking uh oh something really horrible must be happening in some small country and my heart went out to them and I made a mental note to find out about it later. And headed into work. The entire space of offices across from where I worked was taken up with computer specialists who were police officers and detectives who worked the internet tracking down criminals, in particular pervs seeking young people. When I walked upstairs one of the officers came out of the office across from ours and asked if I was okay. I said I was and why was he asking, he said if I needed to come in to their office till someone else came to work they would welcome me there. Note: No one was ever allowed into their offices. Then he told me about what they knew so far about the twin towers. It still would not register in my pea brain. You mean the tail end of the news story I heard on my car radio as I pulled into the parking lot at work was actually a true story about the United States? To this day it is so incomprehensible to me. This is one holiday on the calendar that I cannot say "Happy Patriot Day", how can the word happy be associated with 9-11-2001?

Let Me Entertain You

When my children were growing up, we all had responsibilities. Each child could make his or her own bed. I didn't go along behind them to straighten the bedding. It was their bed and it was their decision to either make it the best they could or not. It wasn't something to set them up for judgment. In their eyes their finished bed making was beautiful.

Because they participated in household chores, they were pretty busy little people. They did have play time and friends over sometimes. But they had each other so they always had someone to play a game with or talk to or trade chores with.

How did those children grow into parents who think someone should be entertaining their children at all times? I see my grandchildren and children of their generation as missing out on using their imaginations. They either have an electronic game or a computer in front of them or they expect someone to be providing amusement for them. Being on their own is "boring", and heaven knows, parents don't want their children unhappy. So someone needs to be paying attention to them every waking minute.

I am in a strange position these days. I am at an age that I remember how it was when I was a child, left to my own devices to imagine and play act and dance and sing and dress and undress the various cats in the house and be outside with nature and watch ants and learn how to take care of plants and pretend as much as my mind could experience. When adults were talking we were not to interrupt unless the house was on fire. Children "were seen and not heard". I didn't feel rejected or stifled; on the contrary, I was able to look within and invent my own games and use my imagination. Then I became a mother and I was absolutely nuts about my kids. I thought they were the cutest, smartest, most enjoyable kids ever born. They were busy, and in some ways productive, and always learning how to interact socially with other children. How to think of other people, not just themselves. Then my little darlings grew up and they and their friends who have children seem to think the same way about children. Someone has to be playing with the little ones, on hand to listen to every little thing they have to say, and allow them to interrupt adults over and over thus reinforcing that the children are automatically at the top of the priority pile in life.

Some things have changed so drastically from when I was a child to today's training of children that it looks like another planet. There are good things about each of the three generations worth of parenting. Maybe in the next generations the best teachings and thoughts on parenting can be combined. Because right now it is a very scary future when I think about the little people today (who can only think of themselves) growing to adulthood to take a place in society.

Is Life A Struggle?

A post on Gurushabad:

"Make today a breeze not a battle.Never fight. Nothing is worth fighting for. Wisdom never fights, it waits patiently, speaks positively, releases easily, sees benefit in everything and envisions a future of abundance...
knowing that all needs will be met at the right moment, in the right way.
If we think life is a struggle we will always be struggling,
If we think life is a breeze, our attitudes and actions will convey lightness and easiness.
And that's what attracts everything we need, and much more.
Let us make today a breeze not a battle."
(source: internet)

If we think life is a struggle we will always be struggling. That one sentence is powerful. When I struggle I get nervous and then I get agitated and then I get disappointed in myself that I am getting like that. Gads. On and on. Round and round goes the struggle wheel.

Struggling is a violent effort, not necessarily a valiant effort. Facing constant resistance and conflict. So much energy is needed to perpetuate the cycle of struggle.

Some People Still Smoke

Ahhhh, nice dinner, then the relaxing after dinner cigarette. Inhale. Exhale. I wonder what is the matter with me. This doesn't taste as good as it used to. Must be the brand. Drive to the store to buy a different brand of cigarette. Inhale. Exhale. Huh. Still tastes gross. Go back into the store to buy a menthol brand. Maybe that will do it. Inhale. Exhale. Nope. Tastes like something I don't want to put into my mouth much less into my lungs. Light bulb going off!!! Duh. If the cigarettes don't taste good, why am I smoking them????

That was in 1981. I don't know what changed, but I am so grateful for the awareness it took for me to do such a turnaround and dislike smoking. My children had been nagging me for years to quit smoking. They were just young children and I smoked in the car, in the house, in the restaurant with no regard for anyone else. Even when my children would cough and swing their arms in the car. It was just an act to get me to stop smoking. Right? We did not know back then what second hand smoke would do to other people. People we worked around. People we visited. People in hospitals. People in our homes. People we loved.

I finally have come full circle. I finally get it. I understand I have to first love myself enough to take care of myself. To not smoke. To eat to nourish my body. To get some exercise. That is what happened in 1981. In caring about myself I was able to care about others and expand on that love to participate in the responsibility to leave a healthy planet for the next generations.

Two Years Married and Four Years Together

Anniversaries were not important to me before I met my hubby. Something happened to me when he and I met. It started with our first real date. He emailed a sweet invitation to meet at a movie theater and attached the movie choices and asked me to choose which movies I would be interested in seeing and list them in order of first choice, second choice etc. That was easy. I looked at the trailers and made my choices and hit reply.

Turned out we had the exact same selection. So we met at the theater the following weekend to see our first choice. Hubby was waiting for me in front of the theater. He had a big smile and already had the tickets in his pocket. We didn't even hold hands in the movie. But we enjoyed the movie and decided to eat at one of the restaurants within walking distance. We were talking and eating when my stomach started telling me how nervous I actually was. I made a beeline for the restroom. When I returned I told him I thought I should go home. He said he had something for me in his car so we walked to his car and he handed me a CD of his favorite music. And then HE HUGGED ME. I was shaking my head all the way home, asking myself what the heck was that anyway. When he hugged me I felt like I had come home. It was the first time I had ever felt like that and it was impossible to describe it. It really surprised me.

After that we met as often as possible. We put the movie stubs in an envelope at his apartment and started saving every teeny tiny souvenir. A feather we found. A post it note one of us left each other. I thought he was just always a romantic guy with everyone but much later I was to learn that this was just as new to him as it was to me. He was enjoying the discovery as much as I was. We lived forty miles apart so
sometimes he would drive up to see me and we would play tennis and get to know each other. Sometimes I would go to his place and we bought me a bicycle so I could ride with him. He rode his bike every day and I was to learn much much later how the exercise is necessary for him.

So we have been together four years now. Our little envelope became a large manilla envelope and then grew to a shoe box and today everything is in an office storage box with our handwritten "MEMENTOS" all over it. We still put things into the box and laughingly talk about someday sitting in our rockers with the box or boxes nearby and looking through our receipts and stubs and notes and drawings and all the items that mean so much to us.

Today is our two year wedding anniversary. Happy anniversary, dear hubby. Thank you for your love. You are the most interesting person I have ever known and I treasure your dimple, admire your talents, and trust my heart to your care.

He Should Have Left The Store

When a man was shopping in a Wal-Mart store in Georgia, he became upset with a crying two year old child and approached the mother and her crying child and told the mother "If you don't shut the baby up, I will shut her up for you."

According the an article in CNN.com,
"A few moments later, while the mother and the crying child were in another aisle, Stephens allegedly grabbed the girl and slapped her across the face. Police said he hit her four or five times. "See, I told you I would shut her up," the suspect allegedly told the mother."

The man was arrested for first degree cruelty to children.

Whatever could be so difficult for someone, what circumstances in life could prompt someone to slap a child? A child unknown to him who obviously was herself not having a good day.

Stories like this one cause me distress for our communities and families in more and more difficulty financially, emotionally, mentally.

Perhaps if Mr. Roger Stephens had been able to restrain himself, get in touch with his inner self, see that he was overly anxious and that the child's crying was pushing his buttons of stress, and just left the store, he would have felt good about himself for acting in a mature manner. Instead, I'm afraid his problems are only beginning.

Hopefully, the mother and child have already gotten on with their lives and again, hopefully, the little girl is in a loving stable home where she is nurtured and cared for in a responsible way. My mother's heart is appalled that someone would hurt a two year old child.

Blast It Out On The Porch

When I was a pre-teen I would stay at different people's houses for a couple weeks here and there. The host families all had lots of children. For some reason I thought I was the entertainment director at each house. I would write a play or a musical (not original music, just songs I already knew), get all the neighborhood kids involved setting up a sheet or two over a wire or rope strung across the porch for the curtain calls, set up folding chairs facing the "stage", and we would practice for how many days I would be there and on the last day we would charge admission and every kid would perform. We all took turns with the curtain and the lights (flashlights). We danced and sang and acted and brought the house down. All the parents in the neighborhood were there because their kids were part of the show. And the money earned was for treats for the kids the next day. I wasn't interested in the treats, but I was interested in giving the audience its money's worth. I pushed and cajoled and directed and re-wrote the scenes till it was polished enough for a dress rehearsal. Most of the musicals started with a bang with this song, everyone singing as loud as possible. We wanted to begin the show with a bang. Because I was staying at other people's houses, my own parents never were present for a performance. My mother was in the hospital on most of those occasions and my father did not come to see me while I stayed with the other families. But having all those other kids around to be with and accomplish something major like a "Broadway show" was one of the most fun memories of my young life. In the last semester of high school, I talked my way into an audition with the San Francisco Light Opera and I handed the musicians the music to this song. If I had the strength of this voice, perhaps I would have been accepted. It was a good experience and they did say for me to return in a year when my voice would be more mature. A post on Subdural Flow brought back the memory of the audition.

The Nose Knows

The sense of smell is as different as a signature kiss.

Most of us can smell something we are on top of, like lifting the lid of a pot on the stove and inhaling the aroma. Or driving along a highway and identifying the strong scent of a skunk. Or trapped inside a crowded subway next to someone who detests good hygiene.

My husband has the faculty to detect the lingering odor of a mouse fart. Not that he has ever smelled one, I am just making the case that he has the most amazing sense of smell of anyone I have ever known. I mean this as a complement. From outside in the detached garage he senses something cooking in the kitchen. From the bedroom he opens his eyes that follow in the wake of his nose and can describe what I am doing based on what he smells. I've been impressed with his sensitivity for smell as well as audio. I have allergies that may prevent me from reaching his level of perceiving odors. I like the house to have lingering cooking smells. It's homey and cozy.

I had already written this post when I found this article in Scientific American about a study to do with sense of smell.

"When the human nose sniffs, odors travel up the nostrils and into the brain. This happens separately on the left and right sides of an impervious wall in the nose called the nasal septum. So what happens when each nostril is exposed to a different scent? Does the brain interpret it as a mixture, or does it select between them?"

According to this article, The sense of smell is a "very youthful sense" and with deterioration in smell, taste is also lost. "[The sense of smell] affects quality of life."

I venture to state that if the study had participants with a nose like my hubby, the outcome of the study would have been different.

Through A Child's Eyes

"A young child looks through a gate as an American Marine keeps watch whilst on patrol in Khan Neshin, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, the furthest south of any coalition troops and near the border of Pakistan Tuesday Aug. 25, 2009. (AP Photo/Lewis Whyld)"


As a mother, I cannot begin to know what a mother in Afghanistan (the country in this photo) feels or what hope she clings to for her child. When my children were young I was almost over protective, much to the chagrin of my children. It mattered not what other children were allowed to do or how much freedom their parents allowed them, I insisted on knowing where my children were at all times and when they were quite young, they had to be within sight. My son would get on his tricycle and nonchalantly ride down to the end of the building, glance over his shoulder to see me watching, and then ride like crazy around the corner only to see me run all the way to the end of the building and around that corner and the next corner by that time and see him waiting for me with the biggest grin on his dear little face!

My heart hugs the sweet child in this photo and the soldier who is someone's son.

Cough, Gag, Cough

A French soldier wears a visor and face cover to protect himself from the dust as he patrols in Deh Rawod, in the southern Afghan province of Uruzgan on August 17, 2009. (PASCAL GUYOT/AFP/Getty Images)

Maybe I am easily influenced, but when I saw this photo I could almost taste the sand and I had to cough. I.Actually.Coughed. Empathy personified.

Living my life in a mid western state in a safe environment takes little effort compared to the sacrifices and tragedies people face every day in other countries. Seeing photos similar to this one help remind me to be thankful for my life and health and hubby and home and to send support and love from my heart to those like the soldier in this photo.

World's Largest Rosebush

How large do you think a rosebush can grow?

According to the Guinness Book Of World Records, the rosebush that holds the record for the largest rosebush is in Tombstone, Arizona.

When Henry and Mary Gee left Scotland as newlyweds and made a home in Tombstone, Arizona, Mary's parents sent some things from her homeland to help her make a new home so far away. They included cuttings from the rose in their yard and Mary planted them. That was in 1885.

Today a strong, gnarled trunk supports a vigorous rosebush suspended by a wooden arbor and the rosebush covers over 8,000 square feet.

I have been there a few times and walked under the gigantic umbrella of roses and walked up steps to look down on the entire spread. This picture is one I took and I have the photos with me. Inside the attached museum, I purchased a cutting and took it back to California, planted it, and the very next year there were some roses and each year my rose bush grew and I took cuttings from it and shared with others. It was the fastest growing rosebush I ever had.

The rose is a white Lady Banksia.

Building Love and Commitment

I just read a book titled "Building A Home With My Husband" by Rachel Simon. I enjoyed the book because it actually was about a house renovation. But the thread throughout is the relationship between husband and wife.

Near the end of the story are some quotes that I want to share here.

"So this is commitment, I realized, as we walked up the hill toward our house. Pressing myself to admit my feelings aloud, and how they arose---even when I'm so convinced that he did something wrong that I'm on the verge of running. Of course, commitment requires that the other person must love and respect me enough to want to hear, and I must love and respect him enough to speak words he can hear. But assuming that is the case, then this is commitment: Valuing our unity over my pride, the whole of our us rather than the sum of my righteousness.

.... Love is not just a feeling, and commitment is not just a decision. They, when intertwined, are action. Love and commitment move, and touch, and listen, and speak. They are deeds that sacrifice individual pride. Their goal is not just happiness, but mutual vulnerability."

These words wrapped around my heart and taught it to sing and dance.

My, How Time Flies

Four years ago I worked from home, and there were several printer/fax/copier machines in the busy home office.

One day my son called and said he was in the area and would like to stop by to use a fax and work on some paperwork. No problem. When my son arrived, he introduced me to a colleague and they sat at the dining room table and soon had papers strewn around. I re-focussed on my work.

When my son and his friend entered my office area to use fax machines, the friend looked at my computer. I was living in a duplex at that time and my son asked if I had found a tenant for the other unit. His friend asked if I had placed an ad in craigslist yet and I replied no but that I had heard of it from a couple other people. The young man, who is a super whiz on computers, walked over and stroke, stroke, stroke, put craigslist in my bookmarks. I had two simultaneous thoughts: Wow, I thought I could type fast; and How brash for this guy to put something on my computer without me asking.

The next day I began searching around on craigslist and giggled when I saw "women seeking men" and "men seeking women". I clicked on "men seeking women" thinking how fun it was going to be to tell my friend Linda about it when I talked to her later. I read a few ads, got the gist of them, started losing interest and then a heading caught my eye. I clicked on this ad, read it, and proceeded to email this guy immediately, which was totally not like me at all to contact someone I did not know. My sole purpose in emailing him was to ask him what he was doing on craigslist because he made too much sense. His ad was not like any of the others at all. And then I wished him luck in his search and said I bet he got lots of replies to his ad. I did not expect to hear from him.

The reply was easy going and said there had only been three answers to his ad. We began emailing back and forth. We learned more about each other. Then he sent his phone number in case I felt like calling him sometime. I called a friend of mine who had met her husband online and talked to her. She convinced me to call him. My hands were sweating when I shakily dialed his number. His voice on the phone was even better than his emails. Still not even considering meeting him and still not even thinking of finding a relationship, I relaxed into getting to know him as a possible friend. I had a couple guy friends that I went to ball games with and movies and have always had relaxed relationships with guys.

After many hours on the phone, we both were looking forward to meeting in person. I had seen a picture of him in his ad, but he had not seen one of me. His ad even stated that "what you look like is not as important as how you sound". We agreed to meet in front of a buffet style restaurant halfway between our two homes. When he asked what color my hair was or what I would be wearing so he could identify me, I told him I would be in casual clothes, I had blond hair, and I would probably be there a little early and I would be reading a book as I always carried a book with me and I am always early. I heard a little gasp but it wasn't until I had known him awhile that I learned what that meant to him. He too is always early and always reading, a book always with him.

I arrived early, was reading and glanced up to see the guy in the picture walking toward the front of the restaurant. I walked toward him to shake his hand and we went inside to get food. We talked over five hours!!! We actually had fun. When we shook hands good bye in front of the restaurant, he said he would like to do that again soon and I said so would I.

The following week we were emailing and talking on the phone and when he emailed a list of movies playing at a theater near the restaurant of our meeting face to face, we arranged to meet in front of the theater the next weekend.

That was almost four years ago.

I'll Huff And I'll Puff And I'll Blow Your Mailbox Down

We get strong winds in this part of the country. Some days at work as I carry out boxes or bags to the dumpster, the wind picks me up and pushes me toward the dumpster. But coming back to the building, going against the wind, I have to honker down and push hard to walk and then it takes strength to open the side door and not get squished trying to get inside.

The other day our next door neighbors signaled to us as they returned to their driveway and were pointing out that the mailbox in front of our house was down on its side. They met us at the mailbox and we could see that the wooden post was broken into bits. We rent this house, so we didn't have a hand in the installing of the mailbox, but it seemed pretty clear that the landlord did not treat the wood and the wooden post wasn't in the ground very deep and no concrete was used to set the post. The wind had been too strong for hubby to ride his bike that day, so we figured that the wind caused the mailbox post to keel over.

The men got to work deciding the best solution and they headed to their garages and returned with tools and steel rods and proceeded to work together to stand the mailbox upright and pound stakes and make sure it would be secure for the next heavy duty midwest wind.

We wives chatted happily and it turned out to be a great visit for all of us and the mailbox is standing proud and strong in the front yard. Our neighbors have been in their house over 30 years and we found this house on the internet and were drawn here last year by the location. But one of the best things about this house is the wonderful next door neighbors. They love us and we love them. When we are outside as they leave their driveway, she blows kisses to us and they wave hello and goodbye and we visit at the fence often. I think the now standing mailbox is not the only sturdy thing in this cul-de-sac. The friendship with our neighbors is growing stronger and more dear each day. The wind can't blow that down!!

Mango-Lime Salsa

I left a comment here a few days ago asking for a recipe mentioned in a post.

Here is the recipe:

"Ingredients

*

1 Tablespoon olive oil
*

2 garlic cloves, minced
*

3 cups fresh corn kernels (about 6 ears)
*

2 cups diced mango
*

1 cup chopped red bell pepper
*

1 cup chopped red onion
*

Juice from 1 large lime (about 1/3 cup)
*

¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
*

½ teaspoon kosher salt
*

1 Chipotle chile in adobo sauce, drained, seeded and chopped
*

2 cans black beans, rinsed and drained (15 oz cans)
* 8 cups of fresh spring salad greens

Directions:

1.

Heat the Olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add garlic, cook for about 1 minute.
2.

Stir in the corn kernels; cook until browned about 8 minutes, stirring occasionally.
3.

Place the corn mixture in a large bowl. Add the mango, bell pepper, onion cilantro, lime juice, salt, chile and black beans and stir well.


Enjoy."

Pearl, please tell Icky THANK YOU for sharing this great recipe with me. This has now become a staple in our house.

September is Recovery Month

There is a blog called Subdural Flow. I found this post there about September being designated Recovery Month.

"SAMHSA/CSAT (the government agency on substance abuse and mental health) sponsors Recovery Month, which celebrates recovery, highlights the benefits of treatment, and educates the public on recovery and treatment options.

Upcoming events for your area can be found by putting in your zip code here. On September 12 there will a human bridge of recovery across the Brooklyn Bridge. Already 10,000 people have signed up!"

Today my hubby is 9 years clean and sober. I have been working the twelve steps in a codependents anonymous program for 2 1/2 years. We know many people in recovery who are working programs to become and remain healthy. It isn't simply a matter of attending a meeting and getting to know other people in recovery. It takes hard, consistent work.

It is worth every ounce of energy and every tear of frustration and all the sweat of hard work.

Reader's Digest Facing Bankruptcy

Looks like Reader's Digest is facing the same woes other businesses are facing these days. This story was in BBC News.

"The US publisher of Reader's Digest magazines has said it will file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy as it looks to get rid of up to 75% of its debts.

If approved by a bankruptcy court, Reader's Digest will see its debt cut to $550m from $2.2bn.

"It doesn't affect our employees, it doesn't affect the vast majority of vendors, it doesn't mean we'll do mass layoffs, it doesn't mean we're going to be selling off assets. It's business as usual."

The company says Reader's Digest is the largest-selling magazine in the world."

While my children were growing up, the Reader's Digest was like part of our family. We all read stories in it and we talked about it at dinner and made games of the word definitions in the magazine. My mother still subscribes. The image in this post is the way the front cover used to look; this one is the cover for May 1973.

I haven't read a Reader's Digest in a few years and I don't see this little magazine in the waiting rooms I frequent, but I have a sentimental interest in the future of this publication.

Four Seasons

I found this at a blog called True Love Is Life. Thank you, Sunshine, for your permission to share this in my post.


"There was a man who had four sons. He wanted his sons to learn not to judge things too quickly. So, he sent them each on a quest, in turn, to go and look at a pear tree that was a great distance away.

The First son went in the winter, the second in the spring, the third in the summer, and the youngest son in the fall.

When they had all gone and returned ,he called them together to describe what they had seen.

The First son (winter) said that the tree was ugly, bent & twisted . The Second son (spring) said it was covered with green buds & full of promise.

The Third son (summer) disagreed; he said it was laden with blossom that smelled so sweet & looked so beautiful, it was the most graceful tree that he had ever seen.

The last son disagreed with all of them; he said it was ripe and drooping with fruit, full of life & fulfillment.

The man then explained to his sons that they were all right, because they had seen only one season in the tree's life. He told them that you can't judge a tree, or a person, by only one season. That the essence of who they are, and the pleasure, joy & love that come from life, can only be measured at the end, when all the seasons are up."

The End Of Saturday Mail Will Be Soon

CNN News has an article about the demise of delivery of mail on Saturdays.

"The postmaster general of the United States, John E. Potter, has gone to Congress and officially asked for permission to do away with Saturday mail. He has told Congress that this will save more than $3 billion every year.

If and when it happens -- and it's beginning to seem inevitable -- the texture of the nation's life will be altered, probably forever. Saturdays without mail will feel like ... well, who knows? Maybe they'll feel like Sundays."

I have just started writing letters and placing them into envelopes, applying stamps (not necessary to lick stamps anymore) and mailing my nifty little letters. It has been so long since I wrote letters to anyone but my mother, but since I received a letter from my aunt I have decided to write my brother now too. The list is growing. It doesn't matter to me if there is no more Saturday delivery, as long as the modern day pony express gets the mail delivered in a reasonable amount of time.

Don't Be Shy, Sweetie

Photo: Melissa Brandts

Hubby sent this to me. He loves this picture. We watch squirrels in the yard every day and try to get good pictures of them but have never been able to get one to pose for us!!

"We had our camera set up on some rocks and were getting ready to take the picture when this curious little ground squirrel appeared, became intrigued with the sound of the focusing camera and popped right into our shot.

It was a once in a lifetime moment - we were laughing about this little guy for days! said Mrs Brandts."

The picture was submitted to the website of America's National Geographic magazine.

You've Got (Snail) Mail

Today I actually had mail in my mail box. I don't look in the mail box every day because there isn't anything in it most of the time. I know, I know, most people get junk mail and bills and all sorts of negative correspondence. Some people need to push a wheelbarrow out to their mail box to carry it all back to their house.

Not me. My little mail box is my friendly quiet keeper of peace and unobtrusive letters and packages delivered by the friendly quiet mail person. My bills are not paid through snail mail, therefore I do not receive statements in the mail box.

Up until today my mother was the only person writing me letters and she was the only person I sent letters to. Mail is an important part of her life as she has never ever been interested in computers. My brother delivered a computer to her home many years ago and set it up and showed her how to use it and she tried for a day or two but she did not want it in the first place and got so frustrated because she had never even typed so my brother removed the object of intense dislike and she promptly forgot about ever having the computer.

Today I received a letter from one of my mother's sisters. By the sound of the letter, my aunt is just as baffled as I am regarding how many years it has been since she and I have corresponded. I remember writing her a few times when I was a teenager and it is possible that I wrote her a few times up until my thirties. Heaven only knows when I last wrote her but I recognized her writing on the envelope and smiled when I saw her name so my correspondence with her must have always been pleasant.

In this nice easy-going letter, my aunt told me how she and her husband are doing, that they are in good health, and asked if I would like to write to her. She made a nice gesture and made sure to say that if I did not want to write to her it was okay. No pressure. I like that. She does not know much about most of my recent life, but it would be nice to have a sort of pen pal no pressure person at this time in my life. This particular aunt always seemed much cooler to me than the other aunts, maybe that is why I always liked her. Anyway, I am going to go write a letter!!!!

Mints With Bawls

There are several different candies on the market that will wake you up, keep you awake, and not let you fall asleep. Caffeine abounds in candy mints I found on Think Geek.

"Finally! Mints With Bawls!

Spiked with the same high-caffeine Guarana that fuels the amazing BAWLS soft drink, these fizzy sweet mints are some of the best candies around to help you stay up all night. They are even slightly carbonated to mimic that authentic BAWLS experience. And they taste great!

Your choice of a single tin or a 4-pack of tins. Each tin contains approximately 75 slightly carbonated BAWLS mints. Each mint contains about 1 milligram of caffeine (via Guarana & pure caffeine). Contains real sugar (each mint has about 1.3 calories and a quarter gram of carbs). Regular candy is for babies. BAWLS mints are not for babies."

Lots of people I know like to calm their caffeine cravings with candies, but I like my coffee. I drink medium strength coffee every morning, two or three cups. The whole experience of coffee is what I crave: The aroma, the taste, and the after bliss. Yeah.

Another Way To End A Relationship

The woman was remembering the many times she had been there for her daughter. There was never a choice. Nothing her daughter did would be bad enough to desert her. Not when she was a child of many moods and not when she was a woman with her own child. Admittedly, there were times of distance. For many reasons. Not all of them caused by the woman. The child/woman was loved at all times by the woman/mother.

The woman and her new boyfriend drove to the daughter's house so the woman could deliver a birthday gift to the daughter. The daughter knew she was coming. There was no answer to the doorbell, so the woman walked around the house on the sidewalk to the back door, tried the handle, went inside. The TV was on in the den. No sign of anyone at home downstairs. The woman called out. No answer. So the woman left the prettily wrapped package on the dining room table and retraced her steps around to the car in the driveway. In the car about fifteen minutes later, the woman called the daughter. The daughter answered immediately, and said she had been home. She and her husband and their two children had run upstairs and were quiet so the woman wouldn't know they were home. The daughter sounded like this was quite a lark. The woman said she was disappointed not to see the daughter and was confused as to why the daughter would hide from her.

A few months later, the woman drove again to visit the daughter and her family. This time the woman was alone. The boyfriend did not go with her. This visit was also confusing to the woman. The daughter did not sit to talk with her mother nor did her family. The woman sat in the den waiting for some or all of them to come and visit with her. Some of their friends stopped by and they were introduced to the woman and then they all went outside to visit by their friends' car, with a casual comment from the daughter to the woman that they would be back inside soon. An hour later the woman picked up her things and walked outside where the daughter and her family was talking with their friends and told them all good bye. The woman cried on the way home, trying to pay attention to her driving, but unable to still the sound of her heart pulsating like war drums.

One more phone conversation after that encounter clarified the extent of the damage between the woman and her daughter. The woman had "yet another boyfriend and the daughter did not want it to be confusing to her children to see the woman with another man". The woman dared to speak up, which turned out to be unacceptable to the daughter. The woman explained that there had been a divorce from a husband, then four years without men except two men friends to attend movies and sports activities with and a few dates with one other man. And then the brazen woman asked what difference it would make if there were many men, how would it become her business to issue limits on a subject that was not the daughter's life.

That was the beginning of the end of that relationship. The woman moved in with her boyfriend and after two years together the woman and her boyfriend were married. The daughter was not notified of the wedding as emails and phone messages were not returned by the daughter.

Two years later after sporadic attempts to reconcile with the daughter, the woman mailed a letter to the daughter attempting to make amends and left a final voice message asking the daughter to return the call. A week later the woman received a letter in the mail instructing the woman not to attempt to contact the daughter again and not to attempt to contact the daughter's children as they also do not want to have anything to do with the woman.

Interestingly, the woman sees the direct communication in the letter as a sign that the daughter is emotionally healthy because she was a strong person and able to say exactly what she wanted in clear terms. Many adults have difficulty stating what they want for fear of conflict.

From the woman's viewpoint, there is not a reason substantial enough to warrant extreme exclusion. However, the woman understands that however the daughter came to believe she did not want the woman in her life, a decision had been made. It is a final conclusion. The relationship is ended.

Is Your Love Tank Full?

My husband's therapist suggested my husband read a book titled "The Five Love Languages". So hubby located the book online and ordered it. When the book was delivered a few days later, hubby read the book. He left it on the coffee table and one day I said "Maybe I'll read this Luuuuuv Book", and hubby's eyes sparkled as he said "Okay".

Well, I flew through that book. And I learned so much about hubby and what he would like in a relationship. I also learned what I want which is something I had not been able to articulate or imagine accurately.

The great thing about this book is it is NOT a book about me (the reader). In the past I had read some books on relationships with the slant on what do I get out of this, or what is he doing wrong, or why can't he read my mind. But this book helped me to see things from my husband's perspective. I began to see more clearly how he was raised in a house with little hugging and closeness. I am a mother and I raised three kids so I understand how three people being raised in the same house can get different signals and can feel differently about their upbringing. My husband has a brother and a younger sister. But what I was learning as I read was what it was like for my husband, how he truly felt as a boy, and how important hugging, holding, touching is to him. Reading about filling his love tank meant more to me than devouring the book to find out how I can get my love tank filled. That was a total eye opener for me to care more about him than about me.

What did I discover is the thing that fills my love tank? Quality time. And quality time is just that: Time shared with the person you love, caring, eye contact, talking, laughing, crying, walking, biking, or whatever the activity. No cell phone interruptions. No eyes rolling or shrugs. No hint of impatience. Just devoted time to be with the person you care for. It may be ten minutes or an hour. But it is genuine and given freely and happily.

Is my love tank full? At least it's not empty and sometimes it gets close to maximum.

Top Gun Anthem

Click on the video. Gets the juices flowing.

Marriage Enrichment Poem

A wonderful poem titled "Marriage" was the inspiration for this post. Margie at "When The Heart Speaks" has given me permission to share her poem on my blog. Thank you, Margie.

"Marriage is an instrument
designed to be played upon
by twenty fingers, and which,
when tuned with delicate precision
by human love and empathy,
is capable of exalting souls
and moving mountains; however,
the music is composed by two artists,
the songs are sung by two mouths
and the martial concert is directed
by two conductors;
thus the longed-for-achievement
of perfect harmony demands
a deliberate and calculated
double self-sacrifice,
that from this union of two
there may arise
perfect oneness."

Marriage is a special subject for me. And this poem awakened my intense passion for the commitment of two people making choices to enhance and adhere to the sacred bond of togetherness. Everything in this poem audibly describes the joint effort of two lovers to achieve oneness. Our eyes and ears are not solely for the beloved, we drive to jobs and talk to other people, but our hearts are reserved unquestionably for the specific person chosen by the intense joy in loving someone unconditionally.

Communal Solar/Neighbors Sharing Energy Source

An article in Scientific American titled "Can Rooftop Solar Systems Serve Whole Neighborhoods?" prompts some interesting discussion.

"Collective bargaining is a good strategy when looking to get the best price on a given product or service. Solar power is no exception, and dozens of neighborhood-wide installations in the U.S. and Canada have created a new model whereby going solar can actually start to pencil out for individual homeowners.

One of the first neighborhood-wide solar installations in the world was at the master-planned community of Drake Landing in the town of Okotoks in Alberta, Canada. The entire community, now with more than 50 homes built and occupied, is heated by a neighborhood-wide “borehole thermal energy” system designed to store abundant solar energy underground during the summer and distribute it to each home as needed for space heating throughout the winter. The system, which launched in June 2007, now fulfills some 90 percent of each home’s space heating needs, with any slack taken up by fossil fuels.

While some planned communities like Drake Landing incorporated neighborhood solar power from the get-go, others decided it made sense after they were first built. One example is the deal that homeowners in Marin County, California can get in on, thanks to the hard work of the nonprofit GoSolarMarin. The group negotiated discounted group rates with several photovoltaic solar panel providers, and eventually signed on with SolarCity, a Silicon Valley based solar provider that operates some 30 different “community solar programs” across California, Arizona and Oregon.

GoSolarMarin was able to negotiate a rate some 25 percent lower than what a typical solar installation would cost for Marin County residents willing to participate. And best of all, homeowners can lease from SolarCity instead of having to pay tens of thousands of dollars out of pocket to buy equipment that may become obsolete in a few years. SolarCity monitors all clients’ installations online to ensure that they are running at peak performance, and also makes house calls for maintenance as needed."


We know solar energy saves money. We know it can be shared in communities. What we don't know is why every community doesn't use solar power for the main source of energy.

A True Weiner Dog

Found this on Holy Cuteness.

Nothing can be said really. The picture says it all.
This is one of the cutest pictures I have ever seen.
Maybe because I love animals so much. Isn't this a darling puppy?

Scrumptious.

Awwwwwwwwwww.

One of the Ways To End A Relationship

The man was in his late 50's. He and his fiance and their dog were enjoying a peaceful evening of background music and light dinner. The man heard footsteps on the front porch and opened the door before the visitors had a chance to knock. Two male sheriff deputies were on the porch with papers to serve the man. The legal documents were a summons to appear in family court the next month. There were papers explaining a restraining order that had been filed by the man's daughter. The end of a father-daughter relationship had begun.

What prompted this drastic action was a visit to the daughter's apartment the previous month. The man and his fiance had loaded their car with groceries and small gifts and drove one and a half hours to have some time with the daughter. The man cooked lunch and his fiance cut the daughter's hair. Quality time with the daughter was the object of the visit. The five year old grandson was not to be outdone this day nor on any previous visits. He was determined to control all the adults at all times. His mother attempted to ply him with his favorite movie which meant a half hour of adult conversation before the grandson demanded attention. The grandson was shown love by all three adults. The grandson was certainly loved. But the grandson would whine and complain about not liking his food so his mother fixed something else he said he wanted and then he did not want that either. He continually yelled at his mother and then proceeded to punch her, and then kick her, and then he jumped on her when she was sitting on the floor and knocked her over. Then he grabbed her breasts and pinched them. All this time the grandson was hurting his mother and she was requesting him to not hurt her. The man and his fiance were shocked into inability to do anything other than to try to speak reasonably to the grandson about not hurting his mother. You see, the reason the man and his fiance wanted to have a day to pamper the mother was because she had learned she had a brain tumor. This was the man's only child and he hurt for his grown child.

It became obvious that after three hours it would be impossible to visit, and it became more difficult to watch the grandson literally beat on his mother, so the man and his fiance bid their good byes and headed to the car for the one and a half hour drive home. On the way home, the man asked his fiance for her opinion of the grandson's behavior and it was agreed that it was very disturbing to witness such crude cruel manhandling by the grandson upon his mother. It hurt the man so much that he instant messaged his daughter from the car on the way home and told her that it was disturbing to watch his grandson hurting her and that the father would like a few days with his grandson to teach him how to behave.

This request was not taken kindly by the daughter. For the rest of the day there were a few emails and text messages back and forth between father and daughter but there were no threats or any unkind words or rants.

When the sheriff served papers on the man it was unexpected. The man spent the next two days writing an answer to the summons and mailed it to the court but not to the daughter as the man was obeying the restraining order by not contacting his daughter in any way. The day of the court hearing the man and his fiance took off work and drove the hour and a half to where the hearing was scheduled. The judge listened to the daughter and to the man in a closed courtroom. And then the judge granted the five year restraining order.

In his response to the court the man had written that he would not fight the order nor would he do anything to disobey that order and that as far as he was concerned the restraining order should be forever. The things that were told to the judge by the daughter were fiction. The man did not attempt to correct any allegations. He remained quiet and calm. When the daughter read the letter that the man had sent to the judge, the daughter cried. When the judge asked why she was crying, the daughter said it was so sad that her dad did not want to see her or her son. She could not have it both ways, try to hurt her father with the elaborate ruse of the fear for the life of her son and then still want her father to see his grandson. She had started this whole fiasco because she was not willing to see the abuse she was subjected to by her son and she did not want anyone telling her that her son needed training on how to behave to her and to others. No one was going to harm her son. It was the other way around, her son was harming her.

There are many ways to end a relationship. A court order is one of them. This particular manner of ending a relationship was extreme, but it was final.

Nerdy Eyeglasses Or Not, I Want Some

For most of my life I wore contact lenses. And half of that time I wore only one contact lens. Yeah, I was a prime candidate for mono vision. One lens to correct for distance and one eye without correction that blends with the contact in the other eye for close up work. It worked great for me for so many years.

And then I turned 60. O.M.G.

I couldn't see a thing up close. Computer work suffered. My jobs involved computers so I was under pressure to find something right away to correct the new sight situation. I saw an optometrist and started using two contacts. No more mono vision. That did not help much. So I ordered glasses. A pair of bifocals and also a pair of glasses for distance only and a pair of glasses for computer and reading. So I have been juggling these glasses for two years now.

You can imagine my delight when I read this article in the New York Times:

"Dr. Stephen Kurtin, 64, has spent almost 20 years of his career on a quest to create a better pair of spectacles for people who suffer from presbyopia — the condition that affects almost everyone over the age of 40 as they progressively lose the ability to focus on close objects. The glasses have a tiny adjustable slider on the bridge of the frame that makes it possible to focus alternately on the page of a book, a computer screen or a mountain range in
distance."

Now we're getting somewhere!!

"After many false turns and dead ends, he has succeeded in creating glasses with a mechanically adjustable focus. He says they are better than other glasses and some forms of Lasik surgery. This month, TruFocals, the company he founded three years ago, has begun selling its first adjustable focusing eyeglasses through a small group of optometrists and will soon sell directly online. The TruFocals eyeglasses, which sell for $895, are the first to become commercially available in the United States."

Uh Oh, $895!!???? Yikes.

"The glasses consist of a lens that is comparable in thickness to that of commercial eyeglasses, but which has three components: a back glass, a fluid-filled inner membrane that is essentially a piece of plastic-wrap-like material stretched across a ring whose surface curvature can be altered mechanically, and an outer prescription lens attached with magnets to the eyeglass frame. To change the focus, the user moves the slider on the bridge.

The TruFocals lens must be round to ensure that the curvature of the interior lens is correct, but the company’s founders do not think the shape is a fashion obstacle. TruFocals come in a unisex frame with a variety of colors."

Everything sounds great except the cost. Oh well, I will keep an eye out for these or something like these that carries a more reasonable price tag.

Hair Every Color Of The Rainbow And More

Walking around with hair colored two or three different colors is fun.

I started coloring my hair at age 17. Doing it myself. And then for a few years my hair was used as a model for hairdressers in competitions as well as for new graduates from cosmetology schools who needed hair models as part of the state exam. So for many years I was a walking advertisement for some hairdresser or other. Which meant that I had my hair done without charge. It also meant that I did not have input on the hair color choices or the hair styles, and I had people touching up my hair-do before I left my home so the hair style would look fresh.

It was for the most part an adventure and fun. It helped that I was born with the kind of hair that hairdressers like to work with.

Any traveling to other cities and any clothes needed were paid by the sponsor or the hairdresser. My only investment was my time.

So I can remember having three sections of hair in three different colors. I can remember having green hair. Auburn hair. White hair. Blue hair. All sorts of objects added to elaborate hair-dos. The only time I had hair color of my choice was when I was pregnant with my first child and because I was adamant my baby would be a girl, my hair was kept pink during the pregnancy and I was a stay at home soon to be mom. And hooray, when she was born everyone said it was because of the pink hair. Hahaha. Today wearing hair in a shade of pink can do double duty in support of breast cancer awareness. Which I would do again in a heartbeat in honor my daughter's beating heart.

Doing It Backward

This is something I would not like to do. Diving backward would be a big no. Diving in head first from this height would be a big no. Even riding the ferris wheel is okay if it going forward. But when it starts going backward my stomach want to say hello to all the other riders!

Health Care

The health care issue affects so many of us in a personal way. I have not had health care insurance for most of my working life. That is a lot of years.

In a year and a half I will be eligible for medicare. Yep, now that I am getting old(er) I will have some kind of medical insurance. Now I hope I will be (sorta) healthy in my old age. Looks like we caught the diabetes early and I am doing so much better regarding high blood pressure. Other than those two things I am easy maintenance.