I belong to a secret Facebook group; sounds ominous, right? It isn't. Secret FB groups are like all organizations people voluntarily join, except they are virtual. The term "secret" is unfortunate because it raises the creepy quotient.
Facebook has 3 privacy settings for groups: Public, Closed, Secret. Anyone can join or see what members posts on the Public group. Closed groups have more privacy protections including the fact that one has to be asked to join or invited by a current member, and only current members can see posts. Secret groups provide the safest space because only current members can see who is in the group or find the group in a search.
My group is small, focusing
on calls to action and verified news. We do not wallow
in negativity or fake news inspired hysteria. We want the facts. We are
trying to be adults and encourage positive political action. Until I joined, I was reluctant to publicly voice my political concerns on my personal FB page because of rabid comments I received from the extreme left or extreme right of the political spectrum.
It wasn't the disagreement that bothered me, it was the vicious meanness in tone. Dehumanizing one's opponent is a stone cold drag. I am SO done with that nonsense, and I fear it will get worse with Twitter becoming a political conduit.
Which brings me to my point. I volunteer as a moderator for this group, deleting comments or posts that do not adhere to the rules. I am sometimes abused by members who are outraged or embarrassed at having their posts/comments deleted. But the rules are clear. This group is trying to be serious, positive, and effective; we are trying to go high. If your post/comment goes way down low, or directs others to fake news sites, it is GOING to be deleted. There are also the people who join with the sole intent of disrupting the group. They get the boot.
The thing is, this volunteer gig is beginning to remind me of all those years I spent working as a manager or a supervisor. Sheesh. Why, oh why do I "raise my hand" and take on responsibility? I wonder how long I need to wait to retire from the moderator role and just become a member again? I mean, without hating myself for being a wimp? Because...I don't want to be a wimp. I want to do the right thing, even if it is the hard thing.
coming out of my shell
Friday, January 13, 2017
Saturday, January 7, 2017
Lego of your adult notions
I have a 4 year-old grandson, N. He's my pal. Consequently, Legos are now an important part of my life. We have a lot of them, but nowhere near what we (grandson N, husband T, and I) ultimately need to be happy. The only limit to the number of Legos you need seems to be the amount of space you have to store them.
I went into this whole grandparent thing totally innocent in the ways of Lego. Now they are my favorite toy. I look forward to playing with them.
I am happy to report Lego has a new line in pastel colors targeted for girls! Yes, at first it did seem a little creepy and sexist to me. Then I remembered social change cannot always take the straight and narrow path. Sometimes being subversive is the best choice.
If issuing these building bricks in pastels make parents feel it is okay to buy Legos for their daughters, or entices froufrou girls to play with them, then I approve. Plus, I actually prefer the pastel colors. As a former froufrou girl, let me say I wish I had developed fine motor skills and increased my concentration early on by playing with pink Legos.
If girls have their own private stash and are willing to share, all those Legos will eventually become community (i.e., sibling) property, regardless of gender. Their brothers will finally have access to the right bricks for making pink and lavender trucks. Pink and lavender trucks? Maybe with black bricks added for dramatic highlights and definition? I'm in!
Why only use Legos to combat sexism? You know how intricate coloring books for adults are now the therapeutic rage? Well, I am sure playing with Legos is way more fun than coloring inside the lines, and equally relaxing. Lego should offer adult kits with colors like silver, gold, zebra stripes, leopard spots, you name it. One could design Lego furniture, for crying out loud. Playing with Legos could become the next trendy thing. It beats the hell out of drinking yourself into a stupor and/or watching TV. I have to confess that I am no longer sure if I am kidding or serious (yikes!). Wait a minute... Nah, I'm almost positive I'm kidding.
I live near the Orlando theme parks. In this strange land of wildly expensive entertainment destinations there is, of course, a park called Legoland. Another place called Disney Springs (formerly Downtown Disney - a huge shopping district on Disney property) is also a Lego-lover hot spot. Disney Springs has a sizable Lego store with some amazingly large "sculptures" outside, including this sea serpent. I wonder if they sell it as a kit? I also wonder how much it would cost, and if it comes in mauve?
I went into this whole grandparent thing totally innocent in the ways of Lego. Now they are my favorite toy. I look forward to playing with them.
I am happy to report Lego has a new line in pastel colors targeted for girls! Yes, at first it did seem a little creepy and sexist to me. Then I remembered social change cannot always take the straight and narrow path. Sometimes being subversive is the best choice.
If issuing these building bricks in pastels make parents feel it is okay to buy Legos for their daughters, or entices froufrou girls to play with them, then I approve. Plus, I actually prefer the pastel colors. As a former froufrou girl, let me say I wish I had developed fine motor skills and increased my concentration early on by playing with pink Legos.
If girls have their own private stash and are willing to share, all those Legos will eventually become community (i.e., sibling) property, regardless of gender. Their brothers will finally have access to the right bricks for making pink and lavender trucks. Pink and lavender trucks? Maybe with black bricks added for dramatic highlights and definition? I'm in!
Why only use Legos to combat sexism? You know how intricate coloring books for adults are now the therapeutic rage? Well, I am sure playing with Legos is way more fun than coloring inside the lines, and equally relaxing. Lego should offer adult kits with colors like silver, gold, zebra stripes, leopard spots, you name it. One could design Lego furniture, for crying out loud. Playing with Legos could become the next trendy thing. It beats the hell out of drinking yourself into a stupor and/or watching TV. I have to confess that I am no longer sure if I am kidding or serious (yikes!). Wait a minute... Nah, I'm almost positive I'm kidding.
I live near the Orlando theme parks. In this strange land of wildly expensive entertainment destinations there is, of course, a park called Legoland. Another place called Disney Springs (formerly Downtown Disney - a huge shopping district on Disney property) is also a Lego-lover hot spot. Disney Springs has a sizable Lego store with some amazingly large "sculptures" outside, including this sea serpent. I wonder if they sell it as a kit? I also wonder how much it would cost, and if it comes in mauve?
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| This is how I want to feel every day! |
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| Do you love it? |
Monday, January 2, 2017
This New Freakin' Year
I know I should be filled with Happy New Year cheer, invoking goodness and light. I know this, but I simply do not feel it. Please do not read this if you are already feeling overwhelming despair or you are sick to death of politics. It won't hurt my feelings. I understand the need to protect oneself. Stop reading...now.
The mean-spirited, nationalistic, and violent trends around the world are troubling to me. I could give my opinions about the insanely small minded decisions made by other countries this past year, but I try not to criticize things that are none of my business.
I could rant on about evil dictators and macho strong-men in other countries, but I am beginning to think, like Voldemort, one should not speak their names out loud. Especially when I find that I get ridiculously large amounts of hits from those countries on my blog stats every week.
However, this is still a free country, at least for now. I will say that I believe the electoral college of the U.S. elected a man of limited intelligence who is motivated by ego and greed. He is a man who lost the popular vote by nearly 2.9 million votes (the largest margin in history), so obviously does not have a mandate. He is disliked and distrusted by people in his own party, and he seems frighteningly unprepared for the job ahead of him. That, combined with the aggressive actions of troubled nations and the subsequent revival of nationalistic backlash all over the world, fills me with dread for the coming year.
I have always been happy at the prospect of a new year, a new start. For the very first time I dread the coming year. It seems we are moving backward instead of forward. I am waiting for the next shoe to drop.
I know reality goes in circles, politics are cyclical. I survived Nixon, Reagan, and the younger Mr. Bush; however, the world has changed since then. Climate change is actually real, and we are in danger of making this world unlivable. We need reasonable gun control reforms that stop criminals from buying guns and killing innocent people. Black lives DO matter, and we run the risk of civil war by not taking our racist inclinations seriously. Social justice is actually righteous and moral, not a "politically correct" idea to be sneered at. Poverty encourages crime and limits our achievements as a nation, and as a world filled with nations. Women's rights are human rights. I cannot even get started on that one. Not yet. Too soon.
Perhaps the foolishness we are unleashing will change people's minds and we will see a progressive and compassionate awakening like we have never seen before? Maybe good people from all sides can come together and build a better world on top of the ruins of failed ideas? That is my hope for 2017. Stranger things have happened.
The mean-spirited, nationalistic, and violent trends around the world are troubling to me. I could give my opinions about the insanely small minded decisions made by other countries this past year, but I try not to criticize things that are none of my business.
I could rant on about evil dictators and macho strong-men in other countries, but I am beginning to think, like Voldemort, one should not speak their names out loud. Especially when I find that I get ridiculously large amounts of hits from those countries on my blog stats every week.
However, this is still a free country, at least for now. I will say that I believe the electoral college of the U.S. elected a man of limited intelligence who is motivated by ego and greed. He is a man who lost the popular vote by nearly 2.9 million votes (the largest margin in history), so obviously does not have a mandate. He is disliked and distrusted by people in his own party, and he seems frighteningly unprepared for the job ahead of him. That, combined with the aggressive actions of troubled nations and the subsequent revival of nationalistic backlash all over the world, fills me with dread for the coming year.
I have always been happy at the prospect of a new year, a new start. For the very first time I dread the coming year. It seems we are moving backward instead of forward. I am waiting for the next shoe to drop.
I know reality goes in circles, politics are cyclical. I survived Nixon, Reagan, and the younger Mr. Bush; however, the world has changed since then. Climate change is actually real, and we are in danger of making this world unlivable. We need reasonable gun control reforms that stop criminals from buying guns and killing innocent people. Black lives DO matter, and we run the risk of civil war by not taking our racist inclinations seriously. Social justice is actually righteous and moral, not a "politically correct" idea to be sneered at. Poverty encourages crime and limits our achievements as a nation, and as a world filled with nations. Women's rights are human rights. I cannot even get started on that one. Not yet. Too soon.
Perhaps the foolishness we are unleashing will change people's minds and we will see a progressive and compassionate awakening like we have never seen before? Maybe good people from all sides can come together and build a better world on top of the ruins of failed ideas? That is my hope for 2017. Stranger things have happened.
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Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Pics from a Bike Ride
T and I went for a long bike ride yesterday morning along the right side of Lake Apopka. I have a new zoom lens for my camera and wanted to try it out. Lots of fun.
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| I think these are cormorants? Correct me if I am wrong. |
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| A cute racoon way up in a tree. I would have missed him if not for T's eagle eye |
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| Red Shouldered Hawk |
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| The same hawk |
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| Blue Heron pretending it doesn't see me |
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| Interesting "stuff" left over from when this part of the lake was a farm |
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| An Anhinga on more of that interesting "stuff." I love seeing Nature take back her own |
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| A noble predator, per comment below it is an osprey |
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| Big old alligator, happily snoozing all covered with duckweed |
Friday, December 23, 2016
I'm with the band
There were years when a big part of my life revolved around being the wife of a band member. Okay, it would have been cooler to be the girlfriend, but whattayagonnado? I loved seeing him perform on stage. It was always a good time and I got to dance like a maniac. This lasted for about 10 years, through a couple of different bands and musical genres.
I was a wild child, as was my husband. I realize that is kind of shocking because I'm an older woman now. But don't kid yourself, older women have a past. Expand your mind to allow for it!
Because we were born in 1951, we were considered teeny boppers during our hippie years, which for me started about 1968, for T a little earlier. We were usually some of the youngest hangers-on in that scene.
I loved British punk music, especially The Clash; however, by 1977 we were a little too old for punk. At 26 years-old, NYC style New Wave fit us best.
I wrote about that period of our lives in a post last year. One area band he was in (not going to say the name because it is a little vulgar) opened for Talking Heads when TH was an up and coming band still playing in clubs. I have a great picture of T and Tina Weymouth talking backstage that night. They both played bass in their bands.
I loved seeing a woman like Tina Weymouth playing in a band. She wasn't trying to be sexy, wasn't the lead singer, and didn't try to draw attention to herself. She was just trying to be an authentic musician, and she had a great sound. I wish there had been more women in rock and roll like her. Mothers, please let your daughters grow up to be bass players.
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| T and Tina 1977, Ithaca, New York
These are my random Christmas Eve thoughts for 2016. In the words of the repairman who came to our house yesterday, "Merry Christmas or whatever you celebrate." Cheers.
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Monday, December 19, 2016
My Mother's Christmas Tree
When I was young we did not put our tree up until 3 days before
Christmas. My parents were quite strict about that. My mother said that when she was a child the tree always went up on Christmas Eve after the children went to bed. They woke up thinking Santa had brought it. As an adult she must have felt quite modern putting it up so far in advance...
The tree was my mother’s pride and joy. She decorated it herself, no children allowed. Great care was taken to get a tree with the perfect shape and density. They were always beautiful, real works of art. Mom liked to spray the tree with canned "snow" so it looked like it was frosted. It must have been a 1950's thing? No one does that anymore, do they? For a couple of years she covered the tree with "Angel Hair", a fibrous fiberglass material she painstakingly spread over the entire tree, making a spider web effect as it encased the large colored lights. I distinctly remember the fibers got into our clothing and became an itchy mess on our backs. Ouch. It is probably against the law now.
The most amazing part of Mom's tree was the tree topper. It was spun glass featuring a paper angel with foil wings who seemed to be floating in a cloud. I was searching for a new tree topper this year and came across an antique one online just exactly like my Mom's. I didn't buy it; however, I have a picture of it.
The tree was my mother’s pride and joy. She decorated it herself, no children allowed. Great care was taken to get a tree with the perfect shape and density. They were always beautiful, real works of art. Mom liked to spray the tree with canned "snow" so it looked like it was frosted. It must have been a 1950's thing? No one does that anymore, do they? For a couple of years she covered the tree with "Angel Hair", a fibrous fiberglass material she painstakingly spread over the entire tree, making a spider web effect as it encased the large colored lights. I distinctly remember the fibers got into our clothing and became an itchy mess on our backs. Ouch. It is probably against the law now.
The most amazing part of Mom's tree was the tree topper. It was spun glass featuring a paper angel with foil wings who seemed to be floating in a cloud. I was searching for a new tree topper this year and came across an antique one online just exactly like my Mom's. I didn't buy it; however, I have a picture of it.
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| When I was a child I thought this was the most beautiful thing on the tree |
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Some flounder, but this isn't fan mail.
Here are some end of the year musings if you can stand me yammering on:
We all know that kind of person, the one who means well but falls short. No doubt we all ARE that kind of person, imperfect and floundering as we are. I thought more highly of myself before I retired. Now I have time to think, remember, and analyze my actions in depth. There are many things I regret having said or done. Some things I did because I fell short of kindness. Other things I did because I just did not realize, did not consider, how my actions would affect another. Sometimes I was just plain foolish.
I can forgive myself for those things fairly easily because I know I was not trying to be mean. I am imperfect. I will try harder. I just wish I could apologize to the zillions of people who suffered because of my imperfection. Interestingly, as I begin to forgive myself for being less than perfect, I find I can begin the process of forgiving others who fell short with me. Except for the occasional psychopath, we all live and learn.
Still, the ego-driven transgressions are the worst, and the hardest for me to come to terms with. How could I have been so self-centered? All these years I thought I was trying to be good. Instead, I look back and realize all too often I was trying to make myself "look" good. There are casual things I have said or done because I thought I was better, smarter, or was just trying to dominate the conversation with me, me, me.
I am NOT referring to blog posts, by the way. Blogging is the absolute right forum for talking about oneself. It is a place for self-exploration, expression, humor, sharing, and grief. I'm good with my blog being about me. My real-life actions are what I feel a bit oppressed by.
We all know that kind of person, the one who means well but falls short. No doubt we all ARE that kind of person, imperfect and floundering as we are. I thought more highly of myself before I retired. Now I have time to think, remember, and analyze my actions in depth. There are many things I regret having said or done. Some things I did because I fell short of kindness. Other things I did because I just did not realize, did not consider, how my actions would affect another. Sometimes I was just plain foolish.
I can forgive myself for those things fairly easily because I know I was not trying to be mean. I am imperfect. I will try harder. I just wish I could apologize to the zillions of people who suffered because of my imperfection. Interestingly, as I begin to forgive myself for being less than perfect, I find I can begin the process of forgiving others who fell short with me. Except for the occasional psychopath, we all live and learn.
Still, the ego-driven transgressions are the worst, and the hardest for me to come to terms with. How could I have been so self-centered? All these years I thought I was trying to be good. Instead, I look back and realize all too often I was trying to make myself "look" good. There are casual things I have said or done because I thought I was better, smarter, or was just trying to dominate the conversation with me, me, me.
I am NOT referring to blog posts, by the way. Blogging is the absolute right forum for talking about oneself. It is a place for self-exploration, expression, humor, sharing, and grief. I'm good with my blog being about me. My real-life actions are what I feel a bit oppressed by.
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| A twisted tree still grows, just not straight |
Monday, December 12, 2016
Holiday Glitz
The tree is decorated. T put up the outside lights. No tasteful white here! We go full-on gaudy in this house, dontcha know. Not that I dislike white. I quite like other people's all-white lights. I find the all-white shtick soothing and calm, as well as exquisitely beautiful. However, Christmas decorating is personal. It is folk art, so I gotta be me. I have always wished I was a soothing and calm sort of person, but I'm not. I'm shooting for the overstimulated, bouncing off the walls, bacchanal effect. I am happy to report that colored lights and sparkly glitz have made a positive difference in my attitude. I am now feverishly in frenzy mode.
I made my mother's fruitcake. I went ahead and added those red candied cherries I was insufferable about avoiding in previous years. Bring 'em on!
I live in constant fear of chocolate fudge. Homemade fudge is my nemesis. One piece on Christmas Eve and I'm off and running, eating everything in sight until Saint Patrick's Day. Oh gee, now that I've thought about fudge I just know I will end up making some.
I mailed out all my Christmas cards; however, I mailed most of them without putting our return address on the top left. Sheesh. This is what happens when an old lady in complete frenzy mode tries to do more than one thing at a time. Then I had to go on FB and post that I did that. Why? Well, I didn't want anyone who got the card without the return address to think I didn't realize what I had done.
I made my mother's fruitcake. I went ahead and added those red candied cherries I was insufferable about avoiding in previous years. Bring 'em on!
I live in constant fear of chocolate fudge. Homemade fudge is my nemesis. One piece on Christmas Eve and I'm off and running, eating everything in sight until Saint Patrick's Day. Oh gee, now that I've thought about fudge I just know I will end up making some.
I mailed out all my Christmas cards; however, I mailed most of them without putting our return address on the top left. Sheesh. This is what happens when an old lady in complete frenzy mode tries to do more than one thing at a time. Then I had to go on FB and post that I did that. Why? Well, I didn't want anyone who got the card without the return address to think I didn't realize what I had done.
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| A postcard my friend Chilly Hollow sent in 1988. On the back is the best fudge recipe ever. | Damn you Chilly! |
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Our first Christmas tree
We were 16 when we found each other. We were not exclusive those first few years, times being what they were. In 1970, I was in San Francisco and he in Upstate New York. We kept in touch via love letters. I took LSD one night and came to realize that he was the one I was meant to be with. Sheesh, it is a little embarrassing to write these things, but this is our truth. We were part of a generation of magical thinkers. It is only by the grace of God or the luck of the universe that we managed to stay alive and reasonably sane. Some didn't make it.
On the Winter Solstice of 1970, I left San Francisco and returned to Northern Indiana specifically to be with T. His father had recently died. He hitchhiked back "home" from the commune he was living on in Upstate New York to spend time with his mother before moving on.
We started our life together "crashing" on the living room floor of a friend's apartment. We were your average crazy hippie kids with neither resources nor life skills. The first two Christmases we did not put up a tree. Like all our friends, we went to our parents' houses for Christmas in those glory days before responsibilities and real jobs caught up with us.
That third Christmas, in 1972, we had a nine month old baby, entry level jobs, and a scruffy apartment all our own. Some kindly, concerned relative gave us an old, artificial table-top tree and we decorated it with pipe cleaners and construction paper. It was glorious, our first Christmas tree. We put it on the card table we used as a kitchen/dining room table. The presents went underneath the table. Santa came to our house for the first time that year.
On the Winter Solstice of 1970, I left San Francisco and returned to Northern Indiana specifically to be with T. His father had recently died. He hitchhiked back "home" from the commune he was living on in Upstate New York to spend time with his mother before moving on.
We started our life together "crashing" on the living room floor of a friend's apartment. We were your average crazy hippie kids with neither resources nor life skills. The first two Christmases we did not put up a tree. Like all our friends, we went to our parents' houses for Christmas in those glory days before responsibilities and real jobs caught up with us.
That third Christmas, in 1972, we had a nine month old baby, entry level jobs, and a scruffy apartment all our own. Some kindly, concerned relative gave us an old, artificial table-top tree and we decorated it with pipe cleaners and construction paper. It was glorious, our first Christmas tree. We put it on the card table we used as a kitchen/dining room table. The presents went underneath the table. Santa came to our house for the first time that year.
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| I fancied myself an artist so most of the decorations are ridiculously abstract |
Sunday, December 4, 2016
Getting in the spirit
Yeah, it's December. I suppose it is time to get serious about this Christmas stuff. My immediate family is reasonably small, and for the most part I have stopped buying for nieces and nephews. T and I do not need anything, so I would skip the whole "present exchange with my spouse" thing if I could. However, he seems to want to continue and I want him to be happy. It is also fun to get presents.
When I was a young mother I lived for this holiday. I worked myself up into a Christmas frenzy for the entire month of December every single year. I burned with a bright eyed fever, lusting after the perfect present, the best deal, the cutest stocking stuffer. I would bake at least ten million cookies, decorate with abandon, and loved it all. I used to have trouble sleeping throughout December because of those damn sugarplums dancing in my head. I must have infected my daughter with the Christmas bug, because she is "that person" now instead of me.
I am not sure what or when it happened, but I am cured of that bug. Perhaps because it is December 4th as I write this and I am still wearing shorts and flipflops? I have a hard time believing the holiday is approaching. Or maybe it is because the world seems to be falling apart. Whatever. I need to get with the program here! Christmas is fun. I need some fun.
My daughter lives only 12 minutes away, and she is definitely in the spirit. Are the holiday senses dulled as one ages? Does the capacity for joy diminish, or does it just mature? Oh no, have I grown up?
When I was a young mother I lived for this holiday. I worked myself up into a Christmas frenzy for the entire month of December every single year. I burned with a bright eyed fever, lusting after the perfect present, the best deal, the cutest stocking stuffer. I would bake at least ten million cookies, decorate with abandon, and loved it all. I used to have trouble sleeping throughout December because of those damn sugarplums dancing in my head. I must have infected my daughter with the Christmas bug, because she is "that person" now instead of me.
I am not sure what or when it happened, but I am cured of that bug. Perhaps because it is December 4th as I write this and I am still wearing shorts and flipflops? I have a hard time believing the holiday is approaching. Or maybe it is because the world seems to be falling apart. Whatever. I need to get with the program here! Christmas is fun. I need some fun.
My daughter lives only 12 minutes away, and she is definitely in the spirit. Are the holiday senses dulled as one ages? Does the capacity for joy diminish, or does it just mature? Oh no, have I grown up?
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| An old friend from Christmas 2007 to help me get in the holiday spirit |
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