The life lesson learned this morning is always go to the skin doctor before you brag on the blog.
It is skin cancer.
Not the bad kind, the good kind. The kind that doesn't kill you even if its been there for twenty-five years. Actually I'm a little miffed about that. I have been going to the doctor two or three times a year for the last twenty-five years and no doctor ever mentioned skin cancer. I've have even asked about that spot on the side of my head, more than once, and was patted on the top of my head and brushed off with "it's nothing."
Granted I was seeing the doctors for colonoscopys, you know, the other end of the body, broken shoulder, close but I was stupid with pain, the wee heart attack where the doctors were on the look out for different sorts of symptoms. I guess I will forgive them. Especially since it was my sweet little doctor now who said, I want you to go get that checked out, it is getting bigger. Bless her wee heart or I could have gone another twenty-five years. Well, actually it is doubtful I will last another twenty-five.
Dr Jack, real name, biopsied some, froze some and will discuss the rest later. He said I will look pretty ragged for a while but all the ugly will eventually flake off. All the ugly frozen parts, not the ugly rest of me. Off the nose, off the forehead, off the cheeks, off the lip. The frozen ones were pre-cancer, not cancer. Of all the cancers I deserve, this isn't one. Of all the cancers I could guess I would get, this isn't one. Of getting a really good perspective on life when I was focused and whinny on being held accountable for "average call handling time," this is a good one. Not too scary, not too deadly, not too in-operable. Yep, I'll take this one, perfect for perspective.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Wibble Wobble
Sometimes life is messy. Well, more messy than other times.
I've been frustrated over my job lately and pondering, just pondering, the prospect of a different job. I have great customer service skills; listening, caring, helping, understanding, friendliness, acceptance, dependability, focused attention, all the things companies say they want and need, but my technical skills are diminishing; hearing, speed, all the things a company actually wants and needs. The sort of thing that seems to be making me less valuable to this company. Then there is the fifty mile commute, the cost of downtown parking. And I, so deeply, don't care about call times, call monitoring, or having personal career goals. Age, I am sure.
I am aware I have no idea how to run a call center. I understand the need for some sort of matrix or accountability. My anxiety was interpreted as negative, I have never been called negative in my entire life, well, maybe, once. A sadness creeps over me.
I have had to survive great changes in my life, and I do that well, but I have always had change forced on me, it was never voluntary. Now I am in a quandary, a predicament, torn by opposing needs. The need for a job versus the need for a job with less emphasis on speed and personal career goals. It is beyond ludicrous to expect me to have career goals. Age again.
Ian is out of town, so when I left work after a particularly frustrating day I went to Five Guys for a big fat comforting burger. Not a good place for a low-soul in need of inspiration.
Then inspiration hit me.
How could I fail to notice the concerted effort of the staff turning out hot delicious perfect burgers in such a rhythmic design? With smiles on all their faces. How could I not notice the companionship for each other as they shared the work load? How could I miss the beauty of using local produce?
How could I miss the companionship of diners breaking bread together? The obvious love for one another as they chatted and shared and slurped and munched their way though a satisfying meal.
How could I miss the wide age range of folks out and about in the world living their life? No teen looked surly, punky and show-offy maybe, but not surly. There were no laptops in evidence or phones glued to any ears. It was convivial conversation, the place where human meets human. And lots of gray headed folks. I say again graying America is out in force enjoying themselves.
The Sun was shining. Rainier cherries were for sale by the side of the road three pints for $10.00. How could I possibly be sad during Rainier cherry season and with the money to purchase all I could desire?
My friend reminded me we don't have to work under the threat of bombs. No slave labor, I am free to change jobs if I so desire. I experience no ethnic opposition, ageism maybe, but I am denied no job because I am white, female, single, come from Oklahoma, speak with a different accent. I eat, pay my bills, plan cruises, have medical insurance, have a healthy family, car, gas, home. I have a job that I am pretty good at and no one is firing me.
Wibble wobble but don't topple. Life is messy sometimes and sometimes it's not. Sometimes you just need perspective.
A young colleague at work after a particularly hard call said how much she disliked scammers and who would expend so much energy scamming for shoes. I answered, with my infinite wisdom, everyone. Every single person will scam for something at sometime. It's just they believe their scamming is okay. Need, taxes, highway rules, pet rules, adultery, golf strokes, tests, no phone zones, customs, weight, signs that say don't feed the bears, handicap parking.
As I explore hearing aids; Did you know it is now socially unacceptable to call someone "hearing impaired?" Deaf people are not "impaired." I told the lady I remember back in about 1991 when calling someone "deaf" was socially unacceptable and I taught myself to say "hearing impaired." Times they are a changing, I might not be able to keep up but I damn sure will keep on trying, laughing, working, eating, watching the world in all it's glorious manifestations.
I read on Facebook an enlightened country isn't where the poor drive cars, its where the rich ride mass transit. Good point.
Now for a little entertainment. I ran across this bit of paper as I was clearing out stuff, saved from somewhere for who knows what purpose.
Newspapers: Who reads what newspaper and why.
The Wall Street Journal is read by people who run the country.
The New York Times is read by people who think they run the country.
The Washington Post is read by people who think they should run the country.
USA Today is read by people who think they ought to run the country but don't really understand the Washington Post. They do, however, like the their smog statistics shown in pie charts.
The Los Angeles Times is read by people who wouldn't mind running the country, if they could spare the time, and if they didn't have to leave L.A. to do it.
The Boston Globe is read by people whose parents used to run the country and they did a far superior job of it, thank you very much.
The New York Daily News is read by people who aren't too sure who's running the country, and don't really care as long as they can get a seat on the train.
The New York Post is read by people who don't care who's running the country either, as long as they do something really scandalous, preferably while intoxicated.
The San Francisco Chronicle is read by people who aren't sure there is a country, or that anyone is running it; but whoever it is, they oppose all that they stand for. There are occasional exceptions if the leaders are handicapped minority feministic atheist dwarfs, who also happen to be illegal aliens from any country or galaxy as long as they are democrats.
The Miami Herald is read by people who are running another country, but need the baseball scores.
Wibble wobble but don't fall down. I'm off for a vegetable breakfast and then a doctor appointment. I'll have a small glorious drive to Smokey Point where the doctor can tell me my skin is fine and then a small glorious drive back.
I think this life will be okay.
I've been frustrated over my job lately and pondering, just pondering, the prospect of a different job. I have great customer service skills; listening, caring, helping, understanding, friendliness, acceptance, dependability, focused attention, all the things companies say they want and need, but my technical skills are diminishing; hearing, speed, all the things a company actually wants and needs. The sort of thing that seems to be making me less valuable to this company. Then there is the fifty mile commute, the cost of downtown parking. And I, so deeply, don't care about call times, call monitoring, or having personal career goals. Age, I am sure.
I am aware I have no idea how to run a call center. I understand the need for some sort of matrix or accountability. My anxiety was interpreted as negative, I have never been called negative in my entire life, well, maybe, once. A sadness creeps over me.
I have had to survive great changes in my life, and I do that well, but I have always had change forced on me, it was never voluntary. Now I am in a quandary, a predicament, torn by opposing needs. The need for a job versus the need for a job with less emphasis on speed and personal career goals. It is beyond ludicrous to expect me to have career goals. Age again.
Ian is out of town, so when I left work after a particularly frustrating day I went to Five Guys for a big fat comforting burger. Not a good place for a low-soul in need of inspiration.
Then inspiration hit me.
How could I fail to notice the concerted effort of the staff turning out hot delicious perfect burgers in such a rhythmic design? With smiles on all their faces. How could I not notice the companionship for each other as they shared the work load? How could I miss the beauty of using local produce?
How could I miss the companionship of diners breaking bread together? The obvious love for one another as they chatted and shared and slurped and munched their way though a satisfying meal.
How could I miss the wide age range of folks out and about in the world living their life? No teen looked surly, punky and show-offy maybe, but not surly. There were no laptops in evidence or phones glued to any ears. It was convivial conversation, the place where human meets human. And lots of gray headed folks. I say again graying America is out in force enjoying themselves.
The Sun was shining. Rainier cherries were for sale by the side of the road three pints for $10.00. How could I possibly be sad during Rainier cherry season and with the money to purchase all I could desire?
My friend reminded me we don't have to work under the threat of bombs. No slave labor, I am free to change jobs if I so desire. I experience no ethnic opposition, ageism maybe, but I am denied no job because I am white, female, single, come from Oklahoma, speak with a different accent. I eat, pay my bills, plan cruises, have medical insurance, have a healthy family, car, gas, home. I have a job that I am pretty good at and no one is firing me.
Wibble wobble but don't topple. Life is messy sometimes and sometimes it's not. Sometimes you just need perspective.
A young colleague at work after a particularly hard call said how much she disliked scammers and who would expend so much energy scamming for shoes. I answered, with my infinite wisdom, everyone. Every single person will scam for something at sometime. It's just they believe their scamming is okay. Need, taxes, highway rules, pet rules, adultery, golf strokes, tests, no phone zones, customs, weight, signs that say don't feed the bears, handicap parking.
As I explore hearing aids; Did you know it is now socially unacceptable to call someone "hearing impaired?" Deaf people are not "impaired." I told the lady I remember back in about 1991 when calling someone "deaf" was socially unacceptable and I taught myself to say "hearing impaired." Times they are a changing, I might not be able to keep up but I damn sure will keep on trying, laughing, working, eating, watching the world in all it's glorious manifestations.
I read on Facebook an enlightened country isn't where the poor drive cars, its where the rich ride mass transit. Good point.
Now for a little entertainment. I ran across this bit of paper as I was clearing out stuff, saved from somewhere for who knows what purpose.
Newspapers: Who reads what newspaper and why.
The Wall Street Journal is read by people who run the country.
The New York Times is read by people who think they run the country.
The Washington Post is read by people who think they should run the country.
USA Today is read by people who think they ought to run the country but don't really understand the Washington Post. They do, however, like the their smog statistics shown in pie charts.
The Los Angeles Times is read by people who wouldn't mind running the country, if they could spare the time, and if they didn't have to leave L.A. to do it.
The Boston Globe is read by people whose parents used to run the country and they did a far superior job of it, thank you very much.
The New York Daily News is read by people who aren't too sure who's running the country, and don't really care as long as they can get a seat on the train.
The New York Post is read by people who don't care who's running the country either, as long as they do something really scandalous, preferably while intoxicated.
The San Francisco Chronicle is read by people who aren't sure there is a country, or that anyone is running it; but whoever it is, they oppose all that they stand for. There are occasional exceptions if the leaders are handicapped minority feministic atheist dwarfs, who also happen to be illegal aliens from any country or galaxy as long as they are democrats.
The Miami Herald is read by people who are running another country, but need the baseball scores.
Wibble wobble but don't fall down. I'm off for a vegetable breakfast and then a doctor appointment. I'll have a small glorious drive to Smokey Point where the doctor can tell me my skin is fine and then a small glorious drive back.
I think this life will be okay.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Psycho Babble or Being miffed
Lately I have been "miffed" about customers who want me to find their order, but they don't have the order number, can't remember what address they used, can't remember what name they used, which credit card, phone number, or email address. All of our search methods are a mystery to them. Yeah, that's easy for me to do, let me get my crystal ball. Then they are in a hurry, have to leave right now, what is your problem -- ejit.
Drivers who change lanes seven times just to get behind the car in front of me going the same speed I am. Now that is a commute complaint.
The waitress at the breakfast restaurant Claire and I have been going to for five years who can't/won't remember we want separate checks.
Punk kids on general principle. Kids who think that their knowing something that you don't makes them smarter and cooler, like they are creating the Universe for the first time, blissfully unaware that every thing they know they learned from someplace else. Punk a_s kids.
Quote: Everyone you meet knows something you don't. Good quote.
Being accused of base motives, joking or not. Joking that I am lazy for being late when I was in horrid traffic and had to sit through each and every signal light twice and was only five minutes late! Always a negative spin.
My new blood pressure machine that keeps telling me I have high blood pressure. Stupid machine.
Losing my hearing, getting fatter instead of losing weight for my Alaskan cruise, bad movies, lots of those lately, Dr appointments, lots of those lately, my downtown parking rate going from $14.64 to $15.86.
Then
I think about the seven pairs of red shoes I have for the cruise. I have won a new purse, a new wallet and three pair of shoes that I will be taking along. Plus I just won another pair, but this time I have my eye on a leopard print. Winning shoes is fun.
Bo is making me a some dress-for-dinner pants and they might not be basic black, they might be cranberry or purple, she is creative and has carte blanche.
I think about the dinner and show with Christian and Bo, dinner at the Ramen Man, Connor in all his manifestations, all the kind, funny, grateful customers, anyone who gets my jokes, calling in sick for lack of sleep and being mush on the couch while Ian cleaned and did laundry, my wee plant that I transplanted into a bigger pot and is now taking over the west window, The Oatmeal Comics piece on What it's like to drive a Tesla Model S, very good, go read that one.
Something new: an e-cigarette that needs its battery charged. A cigarette with a battery charger, what will they think of next?
Exploring depth, breadth, mystery and meaning brought me to my local pizza parlor, the sign out front told me "Today is a good day to have a good day."
So I will.
Except I am "miffed" at the scam phone call Claire received from the IRS telling her to call immediately or she would be charged substantial penalties. She didn't fall for it, but it "miffed" me mightily.
Drivers who change lanes seven times just to get behind the car in front of me going the same speed I am. Now that is a commute complaint.
The waitress at the breakfast restaurant Claire and I have been going to for five years who can't/won't remember we want separate checks.
Punk kids on general principle. Kids who think that their knowing something that you don't makes them smarter and cooler, like they are creating the Universe for the first time, blissfully unaware that every thing they know they learned from someplace else. Punk a_s kids.
Quote: Everyone you meet knows something you don't. Good quote.
Being accused of base motives, joking or not. Joking that I am lazy for being late when I was in horrid traffic and had to sit through each and every signal light twice and was only five minutes late! Always a negative spin.
My new blood pressure machine that keeps telling me I have high blood pressure. Stupid machine.
Losing my hearing, getting fatter instead of losing weight for my Alaskan cruise, bad movies, lots of those lately, Dr appointments, lots of those lately, my downtown parking rate going from $14.64 to $15.86.
Then
I think about the seven pairs of red shoes I have for the cruise. I have won a new purse, a new wallet and three pair of shoes that I will be taking along. Plus I just won another pair, but this time I have my eye on a leopard print. Winning shoes is fun.
Bo is making me a some dress-for-dinner pants and they might not be basic black, they might be cranberry or purple, she is creative and has carte blanche.
I think about the dinner and show with Christian and Bo, dinner at the Ramen Man, Connor in all his manifestations, all the kind, funny, grateful customers, anyone who gets my jokes, calling in sick for lack of sleep and being mush on the couch while Ian cleaned and did laundry, my wee plant that I transplanted into a bigger pot and is now taking over the west window, The Oatmeal Comics piece on What it's like to drive a Tesla Model S, very good, go read that one.
Something new: an e-cigarette that needs its battery charged. A cigarette with a battery charger, what will they think of next?
Exploring depth, breadth, mystery and meaning brought me to my local pizza parlor, the sign out front told me "Today is a good day to have a good day."
So I will.
Except I am "miffed" at the scam phone call Claire received from the IRS telling her to call immediately or she would be charged substantial penalties. She didn't fall for it, but it "miffed" me mightily.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Busy Being Interested
Ian finished up his University Village Sidewalk Sale duties, four days of sunshine and success. Roger and Stephanie are finishing up their trek to Canon Beach in honor of The Fortener's 50th wedding anniversary, not nearly enough FB pictures of Connor though. Ian and I are finishing up grand-dog sitting, because the Carrillo house is still under construction, Brandy has been here instead of Ian there. My grand-dogs are such well behaved house guests, both Tikki and Brandy are little angels. I will be heading South this evening to join Bo and Christian for dinner and a show.
...after I walk the dog, go by the library for a drop off and pick up, complete my final Dr appointment (dermatology), pay bills, write the blog, prepare for next week.
Book club was Wednesday and it was fantastic, and look what Kathleen found and shared. She always finds neat stuff but this is particularly pertinent to The Taylor clan due to our connection with the witch scare that flowed into Andover and our ancestors.
On this day we remember Bridget Bishop, the first woman executed for the crime of witchcraft in Salem, on 10 June 1692. The Salem witch panic began with fear and envy and ended with the torture and imprisonment of more than 150 women and men. Twenty were found guilty and executed. At least four more died in prison. This day is always a time to pause and reflect on how failures of empathy, compassion, and generosity lie at the root of so many evils in the world. We can make sure such a thing doesn't happen again by speaking up for those who cannot speak for themselves, refusing to stand by while others are made into monsters simply because they are different, and not turning away when we see an injustice being committed, no matter how small.
Here is my current mantra: Be interested:
As my boys grew and developed I listened to every word they said, whether 2 pm or 2 am, whether about school, friends, skateboards or girls, every dull, or otherwise, thought that rattled out of their mouths I was interested. It was some kind of backward communication. I didn't lecture or advise I merely listened.
Being interested builds a better relationship with family, work, community, friends, customers, colleagues, strangers, grandsons. All the good stuff in life.
Being interested in other's dinners, books, movies, travels, plans, opens the hallowed sacred doorway to depth and understanding. It is magic.
One friend's mother passed away. It was expected, but as we know the expectation and the experience are two quite different things. Another friend has a new grandbaby. Both life changing events. How can you not be interested?
Being interested is a choice -- like empathy, compassion, love, kindness. Being interested fosters empathy, compassion, love, kindness.
And don't we all need a little of that.
...after I walk the dog, go by the library for a drop off and pick up, complete my final Dr appointment (dermatology), pay bills, write the blog, prepare for next week.
Book club was Wednesday and it was fantastic, and look what Kathleen found and shared. She always finds neat stuff but this is particularly pertinent to The Taylor clan due to our connection with the witch scare that flowed into Andover and our ancestors.
On this day we remember Bridget Bishop, the first woman executed for the crime of witchcraft in Salem, on 10 June 1692. The Salem witch panic began with fear and envy and ended with the torture and imprisonment of more than 150 women and men. Twenty were found guilty and executed. At least four more died in prison. This day is always a time to pause and reflect on how failures of empathy, compassion, and generosity lie at the root of so many evils in the world. We can make sure such a thing doesn't happen again by speaking up for those who cannot speak for themselves, refusing to stand by while others are made into monsters simply because they are different, and not turning away when we see an injustice being committed, no matter how small.
Here is my current mantra: Be interested:
As my boys grew and developed I listened to every word they said, whether 2 pm or 2 am, whether about school, friends, skateboards or girls, every dull, or otherwise, thought that rattled out of their mouths I was interested. It was some kind of backward communication. I didn't lecture or advise I merely listened.
Being interested builds a better relationship with family, work, community, friends, customers, colleagues, strangers, grandsons. All the good stuff in life.
Being interested in other's dinners, books, movies, travels, plans, opens the hallowed sacred doorway to depth and understanding. It is magic.
One friend's mother passed away. It was expected, but as we know the expectation and the experience are two quite different things. Another friend has a new grandbaby. Both life changing events. How can you not be interested?
Being interested is a choice -- like empathy, compassion, love, kindness. Being interested fosters empathy, compassion, love, kindness.
And don't we all need a little of that.
Friday, June 6, 2014
The River Show
Passion: I have learned that my favorite shampoo from Trader Joe's has been discontinued. I LOVED that shampoo, Citrus Refresh, but new things happen every day, so out with the old and in with the new. Who can recommend a "grapefruity" shampoo?
Blaine has left the old and headed to the new. I understand he is headed to OSU. Taylor is acting, Hannah is going to teach, but does anyone know what degree Blaine is interested in? He came into the world in about 1996, the year of Pokemon. Braveheart won best picture at the Oscar's. Steve Jobs returned to Apple, the company he founded, thus creating the world Blaine now lives in. He was five-ish when 9-11 happened. And nobody texted anyone. Some other stuff has happened since then, but now the world is his to, well, as my friend Mary says, "Don't look back, you aren't headed in that direction."
Happy Birthdays are extended to my fabulous son Roger, my fabulous sister Josephine, my fabulous sister-in-law Jane, and fond memories go out that today would have been Mother's birthday. Happy birthday Mom where ever you are. I hope it's not too hot.
Passion: I meet it every day on Facebook. In one mornings scan I was exhorted to be liberal, be conservative, laugh, be adventurous, hike the Grand Canyon, relax, engage more deeply, appreciate the arts, give advice, don't give advice, change the world, plant a tree, grow a garden, heal the world, ride a motorcycle, loose weight, don't loose too much, camp, drink, eat, play games, complain about people who complain about me, look at cats, admire babies, become more musical, watch out for drownings, bugs and scams.
The passions that move people are alive and well. Passion for beautiful artwork, adventures, children, humor, puns, puzzles, games, ideas, ideals, stories, photographs, philosophy, quotes, information, facts -- makes me happy.
Quote from Bill Nye the science guy: Everyone you ever meet knows something you don't.
That is good to remember.
Connor and I were headed to the grocery store and he asked me the name of the store.
I answered QFC.
He said Granny I can spell that.
Well spell it for me.
QFC.
I love my smart grandson.
Connor is still coming to my house for our playdate until his house is completed, and a play date with Connor is exhausting. I mentioned to Ian the other evening that he is good as gold, but when he leaves I am exhausted. Ian said well you are sixty years older than him. Now there is a prospective I hadn't actually considered.
I've sent three movies back to Netflix with out watching them, a diminishing passion. What's up with that? First music appreciation diminished, then reading passion diminished, now MOVIES? What next?
My house purge has come to a screeching halt, gotta get back on that. I've been busy with grandson, friends, work, and fricking doctor appointments. It is confirmed my hearing has gone from low normal to moderately severe.
I wanted to know who designed the Cheerio and learned it was engineered by Lester Borchardt, who developed techniques to puff, package and fortify cereal. They are round to increase crunch surface, puffed instead of flat flakes to resist sogginess, have a hole in the middle so they cook evenly -- maybe -- no one really knows for sure. Passionate inventor Mr Borchardt, he also helped with WWII spy equipment. Interesting man Mr Borchardt.
I might be the world's mystery woman. Everyone knows Cher or Madona, but mention Jan and people will say who's that. Yep, that's me the world's mystery woman.
Back to my one in ten theory, I've noticed one in ten couples hold hands.
Lynn and I went to Edmond's waterfront for lunch yesterday after my eye doctor appointment, (he gave me a good report, no change, no diabetic warning signals) and the restaurant, either Arnie's or Anthony's we aren't in agreement on that, was filled to the brim with gray-headed diners and waitstaff. Gray-headed America is alive and well and busy and dining and laughing and drinking and walking the beach. What a beautiful day on the Puget Sound, the sun, the water, the boats, the ferry plying its coarse, and the happy people, happy to be alive, happy to be out and about stuffing themselves. Later over ice cream and coffee we chatted the afternoon away. What a perfect day.
Actually, I just looked it up, it was Anthony's Home Port Beach Cafe. Damn! I hate it when Lynn is right and I am wrong. Gray-headed America might also just be getting a little bit forgetful, well, at least this gray-headed American is. In my defense they are practically carbon copies of each other. Mirror images at each end of the beachfront.
The Puget Sound beckons this morning, it is gorgeous here today and has been for several weeks, blue sky, snow covered mountains, sparkling sound, but I am headed the other direction, towards Something Silver, to visit Ian, have lunch, and buy something dangly during University Village's annual sidewalk sale. It will be a madhouse, but I am up for it.
Deep in this life I am pondering The River Show. River Travel or River Appreciation? Is your passion riding the waves, floating down the river, seeing the sights right and left, leaning towards the next bend to see what is coming? Or is your passion lazing besides the river, watching the sun sparkle off the water, noticing the small miracles that happens in reeds and bushes, watching the birds dart and soar around the cliffs? I don't think there is a right or wrong passion.
An up and coming attraction on The River Show is Alaska. I told Kathy Noland 33% of my brain is devoted to Alaska, like a growth on the side of my head. It's not dead center but it is there all ballooned and puffed out.
Get out on the River and do something -- or not.
I'm going to have a cheese and broccoli omelet.
Blaine has left the old and headed to the new. I understand he is headed to OSU. Taylor is acting, Hannah is going to teach, but does anyone know what degree Blaine is interested in? He came into the world in about 1996, the year of Pokemon. Braveheart won best picture at the Oscar's. Steve Jobs returned to Apple, the company he founded, thus creating the world Blaine now lives in. He was five-ish when 9-11 happened. And nobody texted anyone. Some other stuff has happened since then, but now the world is his to, well, as my friend Mary says, "Don't look back, you aren't headed in that direction."
Happy Birthdays are extended to my fabulous son Roger, my fabulous sister Josephine, my fabulous sister-in-law Jane, and fond memories go out that today would have been Mother's birthday. Happy birthday Mom where ever you are. I hope it's not too hot.
Passion: I meet it every day on Facebook. In one mornings scan I was exhorted to be liberal, be conservative, laugh, be adventurous, hike the Grand Canyon, relax, engage more deeply, appreciate the arts, give advice, don't give advice, change the world, plant a tree, grow a garden, heal the world, ride a motorcycle, loose weight, don't loose too much, camp, drink, eat, play games, complain about people who complain about me, look at cats, admire babies, become more musical, watch out for drownings, bugs and scams.
The passions that move people are alive and well. Passion for beautiful artwork, adventures, children, humor, puns, puzzles, games, ideas, ideals, stories, photographs, philosophy, quotes, information, facts -- makes me happy.
Quote from Bill Nye the science guy: Everyone you ever meet knows something you don't.
That is good to remember.
Connor and I were headed to the grocery store and he asked me the name of the store.
I answered QFC.
He said Granny I can spell that.
Well spell it for me.
QFC.
I love my smart grandson.
Connor is still coming to my house for our playdate until his house is completed, and a play date with Connor is exhausting. I mentioned to Ian the other evening that he is good as gold, but when he leaves I am exhausted. Ian said well you are sixty years older than him. Now there is a prospective I hadn't actually considered.
I've sent three movies back to Netflix with out watching them, a diminishing passion. What's up with that? First music appreciation diminished, then reading passion diminished, now MOVIES? What next?
My house purge has come to a screeching halt, gotta get back on that. I've been busy with grandson, friends, work, and fricking doctor appointments. It is confirmed my hearing has gone from low normal to moderately severe.
I wanted to know who designed the Cheerio and learned it was engineered by Lester Borchardt, who developed techniques to puff, package and fortify cereal. They are round to increase crunch surface, puffed instead of flat flakes to resist sogginess, have a hole in the middle so they cook evenly -- maybe -- no one really knows for sure. Passionate inventor Mr Borchardt, he also helped with WWII spy equipment. Interesting man Mr Borchardt.
I might be the world's mystery woman. Everyone knows Cher or Madona, but mention Jan and people will say who's that. Yep, that's me the world's mystery woman.
Back to my one in ten theory, I've noticed one in ten couples hold hands.
Lynn and I went to Edmond's waterfront for lunch yesterday after my eye doctor appointment, (he gave me a good report, no change, no diabetic warning signals) and the restaurant, either Arnie's or Anthony's we aren't in agreement on that, was filled to the brim with gray-headed diners and waitstaff. Gray-headed America is alive and well and busy and dining and laughing and drinking and walking the beach. What a beautiful day on the Puget Sound, the sun, the water, the boats, the ferry plying its coarse, and the happy people, happy to be alive, happy to be out and about stuffing themselves. Later over ice cream and coffee we chatted the afternoon away. What a perfect day.
Actually, I just looked it up, it was Anthony's Home Port Beach Cafe. Damn! I hate it when Lynn is right and I am wrong. Gray-headed America might also just be getting a little bit forgetful, well, at least this gray-headed American is. In my defense they are practically carbon copies of each other. Mirror images at each end of the beachfront.
The Puget Sound beckons this morning, it is gorgeous here today and has been for several weeks, blue sky, snow covered mountains, sparkling sound, but I am headed the other direction, towards Something Silver, to visit Ian, have lunch, and buy something dangly during University Village's annual sidewalk sale. It will be a madhouse, but I am up for it.
Deep in this life I am pondering The River Show. River Travel or River Appreciation? Is your passion riding the waves, floating down the river, seeing the sights right and left, leaning towards the next bend to see what is coming? Or is your passion lazing besides the river, watching the sun sparkle off the water, noticing the small miracles that happens in reeds and bushes, watching the birds dart and soar around the cliffs? I don't think there is a right or wrong passion.
An up and coming attraction on The River Show is Alaska. I told Kathy Noland 33% of my brain is devoted to Alaska, like a growth on the side of my head. It's not dead center but it is there all ballooned and puffed out.
Get out on the River and do something -- or not.
I'm going to have a cheese and broccoli omelet.
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