Benefits

I have a very difficult time being patient with people who cannot add one plus one and come up with two.

Ignoring reality hurts everyone.

It's okay to choose separate roads as long as they all end up in Truth.

Making up stories about things is good, but it is not necessarily truth. 

I know things often work a certain way.  Why they do that is often up for grabs.  As long as people realize that we are probably okay.

The strong personalities I admire the most understand that our differences are not really in our male and female-ness, or the color of our skin, or who we love, or how much money we have.  It is in the way we use ourselves to benefit the world.

It's like that phrase people used when I was small that said if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.  If you can't do something good, it might be better if you did nothing at all.

Of course nothing at all can be as counter productive as hate based, so be careful.

You are the purveyor of your persona, your world,  your life, your happiness, your worth.  Never under estimate that!

Which doctors!

Thinking outside the box does not require a genious.  In fact, being super intelligent can even be a hindrance if you think you already know all the things that can and cannot be done.

Nearly fifteen years ago I went into a drug store looking for some relief for a cold sore.  The bain of my life, they have appeared on nearly every important occasion in my life.  Several doctors had given me drugs to speed up the healing, or eliminate the pain, so I thought that was all I could do.  That night I coudn't find the expensive little tube of medicine so I asked the pharmacist.  He told me to use a natural supplement called L-Lysine and I have only had two very minor cold sores since!  And I only had them because I waited too long after feeling the familiar burn of an impending cold sore before I took the L-Lysine.  The secret is to take one the moment I feel a cold sore coming on and continue to take them, about every two hours, until that feeling disappears.  It works, but it depends on me.  I have to make the decisions, be proactive. 

I am amazed that doctors and television ads still try to sell tubes and tubs of medicine that don't really do much at all and no one ever mentions the L-Lysine.  It's cheap, simple and it works almost perfectly.

I'm sorry to say that in our world of mass medicine, huge pharmaceutical companies, and greed, we are denied so much really useful information and sold so many mythical ones that it's no wonder we are bamboozled into taking drugs that do more harm than good when the common sense approach of letting nature take its course would be healthier in the long run.

No longer the patients of country doctors who come to the house so you don't have to get out of bed when you are sick, we have become the patients of doctors who make us wait hours in their "waiting rooms" and then treat us, to keep from being sued, with an over abundance of tests and medicines that often come back to haunt us down the road.

I don't even think modern doctors realize they are doing this.  They too believe that if one test is good, a million might be better and if a procedure can be done to cure something now, why wait on nature in this modern world?

Why?  Because we are biological wonders created by nature!  Sometimes it is good to give her a hand, but a lot of the time what we do is useless, or even harmful and often won't last.  Another example:  I injured my rotator cuff.  It took over a year to heal and it was very painful, but it healed strong and perfect unlike all the people I knew having surgery to heal it quickly who then reinjured it again and even again!

It takes us nine months in our mother's wombs.  It takes us nearly two decades to mature.  We can live to be over a hundred, so it is clear to me that our bodies require time and given that time often heal themselves given the proper food, rest, and exercise. 

Our medical knowledge is still easily within witch doctor boundaries.  It treats symptoms.  Some day it will really KNOW when it is time to intervene with drugs and which ones do more good than harm.  Right now it seems to me to be a game of chance, so when I have a doctor who has time to really listen to me and discuss my treatment with me, not as an outside expert, but a collaborator I am blessed.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is highly over rated, in my opinion.  Few things are as good, or bad as memory likes to make them out to be and if they are?  That is sad too, because the past is gone.

I don't like to fixate on music from the past unless it is so far past it precedes me.  It makes me sad to hear music I remember, because everything changes.  People who were dear then are no longer around, or they are still around and one of us has failed to thrive.

Perhaps it is a romantic's distaste for reality, or perhaps it is a realist's distaste for what no longer is.  It seems to me that most people holding on to the past are unhappy with the present, which of course means they will be unhappy in the future too! 

It is relatively easy to hang onto an idea if you can alter that idea to be what you want, or wanted.  But in the end it is still an idea and not the robust give and take, love, fear and excitement of today.  It is a memory, a good place for stories to begin, a jumping off place for now.

Most of the stories I hear are so heavily embellished they are indistinguishable from fantasy.  If they were true, the people telling them would not be doing the things they do now.

That is not nostalgia.  It is imagination!  Celebrate that and call it what it is!  Rewriting the past might be a very empowering thing to do.

Children

Children are one of those gifts that continue to give and give and give.

As children they are a continual source of joy and wonder.

As teens they opened my eyes to a world I had grown accustomed to and was starting to take for granted.

As young adults they amazed me with their energy and innovation.

As parents they show me what I did right and what I might have done better.  I know my grandchildren will reap all the knowledge I tried to impart as well as that which my children are adding.

And then there are the little things they just throw in the pot when they come to visit.  Whether it is Becky helping me with my phone, Jimmy hanging my drapes, or Bobby installing a new shower head, they always leave my home better than when they came.  Beds are made, laundry done, dishes picked up and put away, smiles on every face.

Grandhchildren to hug and play with as well as grown children.

If there is one thing I am so glad I did, it is that I chose to be a mother.

Home is where the heart is

I am not sure that I am a typical loner.  I don't know exactly what that is, but I do know I live my a lot of my life alone.

I used to think that meant I was anti-social in some way, but I think it is really just that I am very selective about who I want to bring into the inner sanctum of my life.

There is no reason to bring negative people into a place of beauty and peace unless I really believe it will somehow add to my life or change theirs.  Any other reason is like dropping ink into a crystal clear space.

That doesn't mean I don't rub shoulders with, or even choose to spend some time with people who make me sad, or afraid, or unhappy; it just means I don't do it for very long, or in unsafe places.

If home is where the heart is then home should be the best place in the world and that is where I want my children and grandchildren, family and closest friends to experience the love, beauty, and peace of the world I choose.

Right now my world, my home, my heart, is packed and overflowing with love.  That's the way I like to keep it.

What are we

Imagine a world where we live right along side oak trees and rivers, lions and ants. 

Imagine not being limited by thoughts that say we are finite creatures trapped in disintegrating bodies.

Imagine being able to view the world from perspectives not constrained by humanity.

It is so arrogant to believe that we are the only species who communicates, thinks, creates.

Look at the species who can live with us.  I wonder if I could adjust to living with them?

I do believe we are the most manipulative species, the best at using all the others, narcissistic beings who really think we are somehow so unique and god like that we can do whatever we think of.

If we really can do anything we can think of  -- then we need to think bigger, more expansively!

Why limit ourselves to this tiny microcosm of understanding when we are surrounded by a living planet that does so much more?

It is amazing how primitive we still are.  How many thousands of years ago did we all sit around staring into a fire made by us, believing it was our fire until it consumed us?

I wonder when we will learn that all our accomplishments, rules and beliefs are those of a toddler in a tolerant world that allows us to destroy each other and it, because it must and can.  Like a tolerant grandmother, the rest of creation patiently allows us to grow up so that eventually humans might grow out too.

I will not live long enough to see human beings use their whole mind, or step into the vast brotherhood of all creation, trees, mountains, whales, water, wind, ?, so miraculous it is inconceivable to us now . . .

But I wish I could.

One of those days

My problems are small compared to many others.

My daughter's aunt has stomach cancer.  My friend's friend is giving him fits.

Yes, things could be worse, but that doesn't really make my life any easier.

It is one thing to be grateful not to have certain problems.  It is quite another to deal with the frustration my own provide in great abundance.

My problems are small enough that they aren't worth throwing fits over, or doing anything rash in an attempt to fix them -- which is good, because none of those things would really help any way.

My problems are more like hang nails on your dominant hand, niggling annoyances that seem to grow bigger as the day progresses, but will never elicit much sympathy from anyone else.

Anomaly

Indelible moments are those that come so close together it is difficult to tell one from the other.  They are the mile markers in an ordinary life.

Slightly bolder, brighter ruts are the ones that set the tone for all the others. It pays to pay attention!

Going through life focused on that apparition in the mirror is like being mesmerized by a ghost, because that thing in the mirror is merely a jumping off point for the real you.

The mystery of life lies within all of us.  The power and magic, the eternal connections, the stuff of fairy tales and spirituality is indigenous to the whole human race.

We are mostly limited by what we notice and understand, by what we believe in strongly enough to manifest.

Finding another person so closely linked to us that we never have to explain ourselves to him or her means we have connected at one of the deepest levels.  That is an anomaly I never expected to find.

And then, four years  ago, I began to notice a difference in my life, a lessening of alone-ness, a feeling of being more . . .  an understanding that there was, at least, one other human being who understood me as well as, or more than, I did myself.

There were no strings tying us together.  Our freedom was not limited in any way except perhaps that we were even more free. Our connection was simply to love the other so much that we wanted the best for him, or her. 

It felt surreal and yet it is the deepest, most real experience I can imagine.  One that has enriched my life immeasurably.  One I still barely believe exists, although it does.

It is a true anomaly in a world where reflections seldom go beyond the mirror.

Seek and you will find

The young and the restless may want more drama, but it is only because they do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality.

All the micromanaged misery on television and the stage is not so easily dealt with in real life.  The beautiful French horns and twittering birds do not necessarily follow every traumatic event.

Allowing life to flow along, embracing the beauty, minimizing the stress, and avoiding all unnecessary discord requires much more energy and thought than most people seem to have.

Look out for the adventures. Look forward to the magnificence.  Look for the sweetness. 

Because the drama will find you and you will probably not find yourself welcoming it in any way shape, or form.

To think or not to think

Socialism!  Communism!  Those words and others like them are your cue to stop and think.  They are words used to excite and stir up people who only have a four legs good, two legs bad idea of what is going on.

A little real research in places not attached to the source, (so not Fox and its affiliates) usually digs up the real issues.  These digs tend to bring up things the very wealthy do not want the other 97% of us to buy into.  Things like a fair wage for a fair day's work.  Women being in control of their own bodies.  Medical care for everyone.  Subsidies so under educated, under employed people have time to get up on their feet and become productive members of society.

Contrary to what is believed by some, most people prefer self esteem, respectable jobs and self sufficiency to being on the dole.  A few people have no intention of ever working, but they are not the norm.  A few people will always be among the dregs of the earth, even those with lots of money and power, so . . .

It is up to YOU, the everyday citizen, to think, and read between the lines and not give up until you DO understand what is really going on.  It is not a conspiracy.  Who needs to go to the trouble of designing a conspiracy when all that's necessary is to let uninformed voters vote because they dimly remember their favorite politician mentioning something.  The word politician is another catch word.

They are in the business of being re-elected.  Very few of them are altruisitic saints running around doing God's work.  They are more likely doing the big pharmaceutical's work, or the NRA's work. Banks and stockbrokers and people with lots of money make it much easier to be elected.

There is no such thing as a sure fire good guy any more than there is some feature that marks one as a bad guy.  It all comes down to figuring it out, so just think (and do some real research) before you make decisions that might affect you and your children and maybe your great great grandchildren.

Sense and my sensibilities

I like it when life makes sense.

So often the expectations of the people and the world around me make no sense at all.  People who know better do the same hurtful or stupid things over and over again.  I don't think they are expecting different results.  I cannot believe they are thinking at all.  I think -- they are just reacting to out dated emotions and feelings of what used to be.

The art of productive and happy living requires making good choices in the present.  Conscious choices.  Well considered choices.  Simply reacting works in emergencies but minimizing these makes life much more peaceful  -- and sensible.

Sometimes it takes a long time for everything to come together, but when it does?  Ahhhhhhhhhh.

Then I can go forward with a solid sense of well being and security. 

Grammy what a big screen you have

My grandmother would never believe that I am able to sit in my room in Illinois and read a bedtime story, complete with pictures, to my grandchildren in Seattle, Washington.  Not only that but I can watch my granddaughter there ride her two wheeler for the very first time and hear her brother recite his first grown up poetry.

We spent time in the kitchen as they ate their snack, then moved to the bedroom where I received a detailed description of the room's colors as well as a small concert on the keyboard.

And ended up in the family room playing concentration with Van Gogh's paintings on cards and finally, the book, The Knight and the Dragon by Tomi de Paola.

Then they hugged the computer and kissed it and I blew kisses back before saying good night.

I can barely wait until November.

Off track

Robert Frost said, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

That really does pretty much wrap it up.

Sometimes I find myself heading down a precipitous slope at break neck speeds and feel helpless to stop it.

Other times I seem to be mired in a hapless swampy place where everything is dark and sticky and hopeless.

There are times when I feel like I am floating high on a sunny cloud where nothing can touch me but sunshine and beautiful thoughts.

And times when it appears to be one long endless landscape, unchanging and a bit worrying because I don't know what's coming next.

But the thing is, something is always coming next and both the variety and intensity of it would drive me mad if I didn't know that all things pass -- eventually . . .

It just goes on and on until -- one day --  I don't know if the track ends or the train simply hits a blockade and flings me into some sort of alternate eternity, but I'm sure it will be fascinating.

And I will go on expounding in more words than poor old Frost cared to hear.

I like to know what I'm doing

Some birthdays are more difficult than others.  I remember the year I turned 50.  Just divorced, living alone for the first time in my whole life, children scattering to the far sides of the U.S., it was something to think about as I hit the mid century mark.

Now as I approach 65, I am nearly overwhelmed by all the changes.  Driver's licenses, phone service providers and doctors oh my!  Add all the things necessary to keep life running smoothly, like fixing things on my computer and working on my friend's book and sometimes I wake up off and on all night long.

None of these things are beyond my scope, but all of them are at least a teensy bit out of my comfort level.

I like to know what I am doing. 

I don't mind working hard as long as I am sure I am doing the right thing.  In the back of my mind is a little voice that keeps whispering, "you're gonna dig all the way to New Zealand -- but your sposed to be going to the North Pole!" 

I'll be glad when everything is settled.

No tolerance

Isn't it strange how much it is possible to like something that is not good for us?

All kinds of things!  Like pie and ice cream, fancy shoes, pets that I am allergic to, even people.

I keep going back to these things until, like the fancy shoes, the damage they do is nearly irreparable.  Finally when I can no longer walk and miss out on weeks of fun I begin to get the message.

No one else can really keep an adult from doing things that are wrong.  Like Ray Rice, the football player who hit his fiancee in the elevator.  I don't know which I find more appalling; that he hit her, or that she married him afterwards.  I do know that both of them must have rationalized why it was okay until the world saw it and was horrified.  I suspect they are both still rationalizing in private.

I'd like to think I'm smarter than that, but the allure of a mean person can be huge.  It has to be.  Otherwise no one would have anything to do with them.  Money, status, neediness, all these things draw in good people like moths are drawn to a flame.  At the very least, we believe we are going to be the one to make a change.  Each victim believes her situation is unique until one day she finds herself immolated by the very one she was going to save.

It shouldn't take an entire football league, or court system to stand between a abuser and a victim, because most people aren't lucky enough to have that be a possibility.  Each of us has the responsibility for a no tolerance stand when we see it occurring.

Expectations

 Being as self sufficient as possible serves me well. There are fewer ups and downs.

Anticipation is like any other expectation, often a disappointment in waiting.

But living in the moment, expecting little, means that whenever good things do happen it is a wonderful surprise. 

There are lots of surprises in my life.

The secret is not to let them become expectations.

Court jesters

I had a very good friend back in the early seventies who managed to quit smoking and lose fifty pounds.  It was very difficult for him and I knew it then, but I remembered it when ten years later I quit smoking and gained fifty pounds.

After spending all those agonizing months achieving this, this man, who did amazing things for a whole congregation, had to have emergency gallbladder surgery and died a few days later.  My first thought upon hearing of his death was how sad it was that his last months on earth were spent suffering to be healthier only to end this way.

Sometimes I think I forget about the important things in life.  Society bombards us with a constant barrage of messages to lose weight, lower our blood pressure, lower our cholesterol, etc. -- mostly through advertisements meant to make somebody else richer by selling us something.  And I have both lived with and know people who believe if you look good you are a better person, but . . .

I can't think of one person who is truly important to me in any way that I care how much they weigh, or what they wear, or how much money they have -- all those things we pay exhorbitant amounts of money to people in the media for being. 

It is great that the court jesters of today are paid so fabulously, but we need to remember they are here to entertain us and that while a healthy life style is good, a productive, happy one might be better. 

The true walking dead are the zombies of today whose self esteem is rotting away due to false values that hide hearts glowing with goodwill and love.

Natural

I dreamed I was reading a book this morning.  It was so touching that I found myself weeping at the beauty of it.  Then the words became blurry and indistinct.  I could see the shape, they looked like a poem, but I never could make them out.

I realized I was moving away and struggled to memorize as much as I could of the shapes of the words and their placement since I couldn't actually see them.  Of course what was really happening was that I was waking up!

I didn't want to lose this, but the harder I struggled to stay, the more I lost sight of the book.  I do remember the picture above the words.  It was a small square picture looking down on the skyscrapers and buildings of a city with a bright blue sky for a background, a picture that surprised me when I realized how much it drew me in.

I think of myself as a country girl, a woman who loves trees and water and green spaces far from the bustling crowd, but I wonder if that isn't just what I thought I was supposed to want, as a child of the sixties?   Or perhaps it was something I chose because I had little experience with nature beyond city parks growing up?  Or perhaps it IS what I want, but not out in the remote woods and fields?

There are beautiful trees and watery spaces deep in the hearts of cities everywhere and anonymity of each being in a large population far exceeds that of a small town or rural area where everyone knows everyone else.

Add to that my fascination for houses and other buildings and it seems likely that I am much more a city girl than country.

Truly my idea of roughing it is to sit on a screened in porch during the buggy seasons!  So perhaps the poem was about the beauty of natural cities!

Going home

I was sharing my most recent dreams with Bestest today and he pointed out that they both ended with me trying to go home.

It occurs to me that many of my worst dreams end with me trying to do that and it has been that way for almost as long as I can remember.

I am always lost, or struggling to find my way, or overcome some obstacle so that I can go home.

I don't remember having these dreams as a child until the summer I suffered an injury to my ankle while on vacation with my grandpop and his wife.  We were all at the lake house in Minnesota and I was stuck sitting on the dock swishing my sore ankle in the water.  I remember dreaming, one night,  that I was trying to walk up a huge hill in very deep snow to get home, but I was so tired I couldn't seem to get anywhere.

Homesick to the nth degree in college I expended enormous amounts of energy just trying to find a ride home for the weekend. Later, when I was married, I began having dreams of being lost in a big city at night and trying to find my way home.  It was always too far, or I was too tired, or home was just out of my reach!

Those dreams stopped for a while, but they have been coming more frequently during the past few years.  Obviously I am no longer a homesick child, or even adult.  I AM home. 

I am home most of the time, so the question becomes, what is home to me, why do I want so desperately to go home?

Weather

I have a friend whose father kept a journal of the weather.  Why would anyone do this in a world with hundreds of people officially designated to keep track of the weather and an almost infinite number of ways to reach them?

I think I understand.

I have always thought a window framing a beautiful scene one of the most perfect pieces of art.  Ever changing and yet, always the same.

Few things in life look like they did when I was a child, but the sky does.  I remember sitting on my grandma's side steps gazing up at cloud animals and wondering if I broke a piece of that blue sky out if it would it taste like butter cream frosting, or if I might get a peek at God.

Rainy days made me feel safe and cozy inside where I could curl up and read. 

Weather is the constant in my life.  Sunshine, storm clouds, cumulus clouds, snow, ice, even the leaves of trees blowing upside down predicting rain -- these things speak to me of eternity, of life cycling over and over and over again.

There is comfort in the weather.  It is timeless and real, powerful and sweet.  It shows no favorites, cannot be bought or sold and although what humans do does affect it, it will be here long after people are gone.

Keeping a journal of the weather is one way of holding on, of claiming a place, of making it known, even if only for a short while, that I am part of something huge and indiscernible and even if that part is only the oil on one of the cogs -- it is something.

Kindle your thoughts

I don't know about you, but I become very entangled with whatever book I am reading at the present.

The characters evolve into friends whose lives include me as some sort of invisible stalker they have invited in and allowed to stay.

The longer the book, the more invested I am in going to bed to read every night and this is where I had a rude awakening last night.

My kindle is a relatively new toy, but it is perfect for reading in bed.  It lights up.  The font is adaptable so I don't need glasses and when I am sleepy I can just turn it off, close up the OtterBox, stuff it under my pillow and go to sleep.

The downside hit me like a ton of bricks at two this morning when I read "Then I was flying down the hill with Jamie just before me, arms flung wide, the two of us flying together on that same wind."  It was the moment I had been waiting for with baited breath -- and the book ended!

A new one is not likely to come out for at least five years!

Now this was a long book and from my favorite author, Diana Gabaldon, but I hadn't realized how much I relied on seeing the pages in my right hand to prepare me for the end of a book.  It's kind of like watching a television show and looking at the clock.  I know the suspense will be over when the hand reaches twelve again.

There are a lot of upsides about Kindle type books.  They can be read in the dark, they take up very little room, if I finish a book I can go right on line and buy another immediately, but the shock and emptiness of this sudden finish can be downright devastating!

Old Ned

Imagine being so blind that you can't see what is right in front of your face?

No one tells you because they don't want to hurt your feelings.

Sometimes you feel uncomfortable, but you brush that off because no one else seems to be upset.

Of course they are just not telling you because they don't want to hurt your feelings or upset you.

Once in a while you do get a glimpse of what has become glaringly apparent to others, but you brush it aside because you are afraid this is the best you can hope for.

Not only is settling a poor substitute for true happiness, your behavior is what made it possible for the Nazis to exterminate millions of innocent people, bullies to reign in terror over others, abuse to occur again and again.

Someone else is doing it too?  That doesn't change anything.

It just means more than one more person is accepting something very bad. 

Old Ned will creep up on anyone who will let him.

Pets and pests

Strange encounters of the apartment dweller seldom go beyond what country folk take for granted.

And yet, they are strange and in savoring that, I am surprised at my reactions.

The crazy man mowed the grass last week.  Zipping to and fro with cartoonish madness, his headphones sitting snugly on his head, he spewed grass, in uneven chunks, all around him; careless of the havoc he wreaked on patio furniture and oblivious to the danger he placed the local wild life in.

I went out to sweep the debris off my patio and discovered a very large bug sitting under my chair.  He was brown, about two inches long, with six legs and I believe he was a leaf hopper.  Anyone who knows me, knows I am not overly fond of bugs, but I gently swept him back into the grass.

The next day he reappeared, obviously seeking shade in the little strip under the cast iron railing.  I watched him through the window and left him alone.  After all, if I am not using the patio, I don't mind sharing with some things, especially if they observe a few boundaries like staying off my furniture and not building webs over my door. (Plus I wasn't going out.)

Last night he came back and I was beginning to think Mother nature had given me a rather strange little pet.  I was surprised that I found myself looking out at him often, watching how he moved his legs, wondering what he ate, etc.

Later it began to storm and he scuttled under the same railing he had found shelter in from the sun.  I actually considered going out and trying to scoop him up in a jar to keep him safe from that deluge, but I didn't.

This morning I found him belly up, all his little legs drawn up close and realized that his life is over.  I know nothing about the life span of leaf hoppers, or even if that was what he really was, but whatever he was, our life forms intersected for almost a week and I find myself sort of missing him.

Procrastination

Some people might consider me a slow learner.  I hooked up my new phone almost three months ago, but just now learned how to access the voice messages.

I've had my television cable box for years and just recently learned some of the tricks of using the remote.

The truth is -- I have trouble stirring up interest in things I don't really care about.  I think that is true for most people.

We learn what we need and want to learn.  If there is some reason for us to do it, then it is much easier to expend the time and energy.  Reasons seem to span everything from:  I am bored and need something to do, to I need this to work if my life is to go on.

So when someone tells me they can't do something I tend to look at the big picture.  Why don't they think they need to do it?  Are they confident they can get someone else to do it?  Are they afraid of some part of it?  Or is it just not that important to them?

As the saying goes, "Procrastination is the thief of time."

Insidious

It always amazes me that people who consider themselves really good, kind people can be so unthinking and cruel.

I suppose that is better than being knowingly cruel.

Unless you are the victim of their actions.

In a way this makes them more insidious than ever as they go around inflicting others with their short sighted form of kindness and tom foolery.

Trying to open the eyes of someone who sees himself, or herself, as the picture of sweetness is like pouring water through a sieve.  Pointless.

Just a little bit closer

I find it interesting when two people basically believe the same things and want to go about achieving these things in the same way, but their approaches appear to be so different that if I didn't know their goals, I would never believe they had anything in common at all.

Often these differences are generational.  Adult children have an idea of who they think the older generation is and what they should or should not share with them.  It's cute in a way.  Sweet in it's own right.  Kind of like reversing the care those adults took during their childhood.

They don't want to shock Mom or Grandma, Uncle Harry or Great Auntie Irene, but what really happens is a gap in communication that could hinder everyone.

Mom probably really wants to know what points you in that direction, or away from it.  Grandma may not be the sheltered person you believe her to be.

What makes me think this?

Because I have pretty much the same belief systems I had in my twenties about the big things in life.  I have not chosen to sanitize my memories to fit this stereotype of the little gray haired grandmother, so even though I may be a bit more laid back , or produce a little less zeal, we are probably closer than you think.

And we'd probably be even closer if you want to share more.

Think like a man

I wanted to be a lot of things growing up, but a girl wasn't one of them.

Oh, I didn't mind being a girl as much as being accused of acting like a girl, or running like a girl, or any of those other degrading comparisons that implied I was "less than."

I saw something on Facebook this morning that said "It's hard to be a woman.  You must think like a man, act like a lady, look like a young girl and work like a horse."  I understood. I agreed -- for a few moments.  Then I began to think.

I have to run like a girl because my of the structure of my bones, the way I am put together, but however I am physically designed, my mind and my body are fully functioning and good.  My mind is magnificent just the way it was designed.

The idea that unreasonable, histrionic thinking is confined to women is patently wrong.  Look at the way all these crazy politicians and Tea party people represent themselves -- both men and women. 

The desirable women on television programs who promote the idea that we must look like girls and connive and act out are doing young women everywhere a disservice.  If someone cannot accept you for the intelligent capable woman you are, then you need to hang out with different people.

Man or woman, it is how you utilize your mind, how you chose to live that defines you.