365 To Inner Peace

Today is New Year’s Eve – finally. Having explained again yesterday that mistakes were made twice with daily counting, I won’t go over that again. This post closes a year of daily postings and there are a few important things to say.

For years I attended writer’s conferences and listened to lectures from accomplished writers. They know their audience and the majority of attendees are wannabe’s. When I say wannabe’s I am not referring to their published or unpublished status. A writer is a writer whether or not someone pays for the work. The difference is that a paycheck allows listing ‘writer’ as occupation on a tax form. Big deal. What I am talking about is wanting to write and actually doing it. These are two different things.

“If you want to write, you must write,” is the refrain of accomplished writers. It is as true as the old adage that you do not find time; you make time for things that are important to you. I completely understand this now. Years and years of my life were spent on the “I’m gonna find time” merry-go-round. Here is a little summary of what writing 365 daily did for me:

• 365 was a beginning. Most important step of all.
• 365 proved I am not too old to begin new habits.
• 365 taught me discipline.  I will continue to write every day.
• 365 forced me to upgrade technology. I had to ensure blogging on the move was possible.
• 365 taught me to take some chances.
• 365 taught me to trust the muse. When I sit quietly, she comes.
• 365 helped me find my voice.

Failures were part of my year too. Originally, this blog was to have a fitness theme and follow me into skinny hood inspiring the masses as I went. That did not happen. Some goals were meant to be recycled I suppose.  Failed that one – check. Temporarily. It is a new year and I am ready to charge again.

English teachers always tell you to find your voice as a writer. The key to understanding this is writing. Interpretation without context is just noise. Somewhere around mid-summer I began to truly understand and hear my own voice which is why the last two bullets are the most important.

Other projects will follow and I will continue to blog for the Rappahannock Independent Film Festival    http://rifilmfestival.com/category/blog/

Thanks for reading. Happy New Year.

~Peace,

Tina

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Best Pals Photo: Tina Morris

The error I opted to leave unfixed blazes blatently now. Tomorrow is New Year’s eve and as 365’s archives show, March has 32 days and February was lengthened a tad. Oops.

Changing blog hosts in mid-stream proved more of a challenge than anticipated but mistakes were part of the learning process and that is important. I opted to leave everything as is. Add up the days and it is apparent that I have written every day for a year. This milestone means a great deal to me personally and especially as a writer.

I will save most of my sign off musings for tomorrow. Many times I have wished the calender would hurry or stressed about meeting my daily obligation and wished I had never started. Now I am realizing what the process has taught me and how much I am going to miss 365. Not to fear, new writing projects will follow.

Thank you for reading and please tune in tomorrow.

~Peace,

Tina

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Looking Out and In Photo: Tina Morris

Socrates said the unexamined life isn’t worth living.  I just spent the better part of a day decluttering my den and a closet and now half my life has been examined, at least. Lots of navel gazing goes on when you start pulling out the unpartable gotta-part-withs.

The den was supposed to be my writing oasis. More times than not it becomes the catch-all when I clean the rest of the house.  When was the last time that room stood proud? Umm. I wanna say – September. Yikes.

Wading through endless bits of saved this and that I had an ephiphany. Not enough room and too much stuff are the same problem. Looking at this perspective point blank the statement does not scream rocket science. However, the beauty of the truth is in the simplicity.

Trying to keep everything is counter productive. Making choices is hard but that isn’t a reason for ducking choices. I refuse to pay a business to store the stuff I do not use and cannot remember I ever had. Piles of paper and boxes of junk is stressful. The majority of those brilliant articles will not be read again.

Tomorrow I need to finish and I am not looking forward to it. Pitch, toss, sweep, and forget is the motto I am carrying with me. A fresh start for the New Year means old baggage must go.

I hope the garbage man won’t hate me. Bad karma.

~Peace,

Tina

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I do hate to be the whiner here but geez, Santa hasn’t even had time to dry his socks really well. So, in the spirit of the season I am asking my neighbors to leave the lights up a tad bit longer.

Today was a fairly warm winter day. Although I never turned on the boob tube I am betting the weather person placed the temps around 40 degrees. Apparently some of my neighbors decided it was a good time to break out the ladder and break down the decorations. Booo! Bah Humbug!

Tonight I retraced the route of the best community Christmas lights. Some of them were gone and a few were just plain dark. Plug in those lights people! Yes, you heard me and know who you are. New Year’s has not yet passed so we are still in the season of goodwill towards men, peace on earth, and all that crap. Now is not the time to worry about the electric bill. There’s still fudge left for god’s sake.

Seriously, I think we need some sort of ordinance here. I would offer to lead the effort but since I didn’t put any lights up to begin with maybe I should just cheer. The homeowner with Santa’s workshop and pink reindeered lawy should definitely lead. There’s joy in that household.  Backing him up should be the Charlie Brown Christmas display guy. I liked that one a lot.

Surely, the neighbors will embrace my philosophy and back me up. Just in case though – think I will round up some candy canes to offer as incentive. Party poopers generally perk up for sweets.

~Peace,

Tina

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Everything legal, it seems, is available for sale or hire on the Internet. Nagging, for example,  free in the lives of many but nonetheless coveted by untold minions. Apparently, nagging is a hot commodity. Let’s call it ’support’ or ‘enthusiasm’ and you’ll see what I mean.

New Year’s eve is rising like the Eastern star. Along with what to wear, where to go, and who to kiss are those resolutions waiting to be, well, resolved. Aunt Molly may be always in your corner but what about the man in the mirror?

Somewhere, somebody has computed statistics for the number of resolutions that fail. It’s sad but true. The diet industry would be out of business if change were easy. Singletons with no one to nag them or married folks looking for a new and portable voice can hire one. Digital society rides to the rescue. A few examples include:

HabitChanger.com: Pick your program for weight loss, smoking cessation, stress management etc. Pithy advice via email costs $20-40.

Stickk.com: Input your dreams and make darn sure to stick to the plan. The price of failure is cold, hard cash. Guess the hair shirt penalty wasn’t available in my state.

HabitForge.com: A 21 day timer that resets to zero if you fall off your wagon. No penalty for use and like Aunt Molly’s advice, its all free.

llamagraphics.com: Life coaching and complex To Do making for $20. It might work but I’ll stick with my bathroom mirror list posting plan. So far, it works for me.

My mother had a lot of clever sayings and God bless her, some of them I considered nagging. All her advice was given with love though and I know what she would say about my Internet gurus and New Years. So, I am channeling this advice, also free, as shown:

Do your best.

Work out a workable plan.

Get up if you fail, change can start on any new day.

~Peace,

Tina

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Holiday break is upon me and I am trying to check all the boxes. Sitting under the tree relaxing with my laptop, there must be forty sites I promised myself to see when I had time. Websites for writers, movies to see, photography, instant movie rental, networking, discussion boards, etc.….you name it and it is happening.

This age we live in has to be the greatest. Imagine how hard it was for those poor Ice Age slobs – no CD’s, no DVD’s, and worst of all NO Internet! Maybe they saved a few more shells than we do but who can care about money when quality of life is the issue. The pain of paying for Internet use is something we have all learned to absorb. Where else can you travel the world as whim?

Diamond Head looks the same now as it did when Elvis starred in Blue Hawaii. While my small screen isn’t quite as dramatic as the big screen, I do not have to brave the weather to rent a movie. Neat. For one price, we have had a virtual smorgasbord of information and opportunities. Sadly, that may change and we may have to pay a la carte.

Personally, I would prefer not to worry about the future but the news story I just watched was worrisome. Another darn deregulation has occurred that will make it easier for the big guys selling the big bandwidth to parcel it out. Plain speak means we may soon pay for a block of Internet use as creative companies look for ways to up the ante. Greed and the consumerist plague being what they are, I have no doubt this reality is headed our way.

So, clearly I don’t have time to waste. There is epic shit happening on the Internet and there is no time for sleep. I have stuff to read.

 ~Peace,

 Tina

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Frozen Creek by Brigette de LANFRANCHI

Flakes started falling around nine. A fire is lit and both coffee and gingerbread persons are hot. Music by Mozart, courtesy a televised orchestra, provides the breakfast soundtrack. Assuredly a tailor made Christmas morning – except I need to get out today.

White Christmas, the movie, is sitting on the table. Both White Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street are on every channel but I  could not decide between them for the film blog. Maybe mother nature is sending a message. She’s a Jimmy Stewart fan either way. (BTW – is Mother Nature a proper noun requiring capitalization? Now is not a time to tick her off.)

Christmas traditions await so I much prefer the snow come later. That is the order I put into Santa anyway. He might have been listening because the trickle seems to stop as I write.

Yesterday I thought to write of Christmas’s past and plenty of them were indeed special. With the dawn though, I thought better of it. I do still love and miss the people who are not here anymore. Waxing eloquent over Christmases remembered is something I could do well. In this moment though, I am content with my life and prefer to focus forward. I gave the past its moment when I said my prayers and lit the candles this morning.

Today I have my own traditions and have no intention of being sad and looking to the past. Time to get dressed and head out the door. Jimmy Stewart will be here when I return and Santa can revoke the snow delay.

Merry Christmas.

Peace,

Tina

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Actually, my pajamas are calling. Having decided to be a heathern and skip church tonight there is no reason not to get comfy. However, the lights of Christmas are also calling my name. Should I need to stop for any reason, my bobsleeding frogs could prove embarrassing. Maybe. I guess it really depends upon perspective.

God bless my neighbors. I love their Christmas lights. If not for them I would have to get a ladder, a pal or two, and spend loads of cash on animated yard ornaments. Dancing deer and Charlie Brown cheer me as I drive though a ready-to-be frozed world. Oh yeah, the storm is coming. Christmas day will be busy and if I really want to see the lights it is best to go NOW. Last year’s storm brought 24 inches of snow and then another 22. So, ho-ho-ho it is out the door I go.

Without so much as one ivory flake hitting the ground, hundreds of flights have already been cancelled. CNN is predicting a lot of unhappy people. I won’t be one of them. Snug as slug in spam I am – - very, very happy with my low key holiday choice. Stacks of movies and books sit by the door. Milk is in the fridge. Lots of milk. Stocked up on all my white stuff early. Cozy, comfy, and set I am for a peaceful Christmas inside my castle.

Christmas lights are outside though and only so many can be seen from the porch. Pooh! Darn those lazy, cheap neighbors nearby who put out nothing thereby forcing me to stay dressed, drive, and further pollute the planet. Well, that’s another post entirely.

Gotta go. Merry Christmas.

~Peace,

Tina

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Boston Runner Photo: Tina Morris

At this point it is safe to concede that  my weight loss goals were not achieved this year. There are nine days left in the year and three of those will not include any type of restraint. I failed. Furthermore, not only did I fall off the wagon but I bust the seat (of my pants that is, into a new size). It is a letdown. I let myself down. Principally what it means is that I have not conquered and controlled bad eating habits.

Stress eating and a love of sweets are two very real weaknesses. This is not a secret. Now, a mystery box of baked goods sits on the counter like a prick tease from the universe. A sizeable box of elegant treats arrived from a mystery address in Brooklyn, New York. It hurts not to eat one. On the other hand my will isn’t legal and truffles are not my idea of a last meal, chocolate or otherwise. I have no idea who might have sent this package.

What I do know is this: I have been down but I am about to get back up. This is a road I know. At times I have lost but other times I have won. When my inner strength is building I can feel it. Deep down I know when I am about to be successful.

More than once I have told the story of my college professor’s philosophies on life. On our last night of class he said there are grown ups and given ups. It was the smartest thing he said all year and it has stayed with me. When it comes to a goal or a fight for cause, I am no quitter. I look in the mirror and see a grown up about to get up. Right now though I am going to enjoy the sight, smells, and sounds of Christmas for a few more days. Then I am going to put down the eggnog and move on.

~Peace,

 Tina

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If only it were only a movie. Unfortunately, as the introduction says, these events happened.

The movie Pentagon Wars made me laugh and cry. Laugh because I understand this world. Cry because those were our tax dollars sucked into the black hole of oblivion.

Carl Ewles did a fabulous portrayal of the fictional Lt. Colonel James Burton. In real life, Burton was a bird colonel. A man within shooting distance of a star has a lot to lose and the status quo is the easiest row to hoe. Assuredly, lying down on your sword hurts like hell. Had he not followed his own north star and conscience to duty, men and women would have paid the price in battle.

This film is not a documentary but that really does not matter. Truth is welded into that fiction and the rest is on the record. I know the name and character of a real American hero and I feel inspired.

Thank you Colonel Burton for sticking your neck out and doing the right thing to protect the men and women in uniform. Generations are in your debt.

 ~Peace,

 Tina

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What’s in a number? Whether or not we admit it, our society is superstitious about numbers. The square root of our culture is grounded in belief that certain numbers are lucky.

Twelve, for example, is a holy number. There were twelve apostles. Everything from eggs to jurors are measured by the dozen. Can it be a far stretch to surmise this is not a coincidence?

Three is a pretty serious number. Things happen in three’s folks say. Three rings of the telephone are considered polite. Maybe it is one ring for each wise man and there is another reference to Christianity. Concededly, this point might be a bit of a stretch.  Still, there is no explanation as to why your mom always counted to three before you were in real trouble.

While I am not a devout disciple of this belief, there may indeed be something to numerology. A few years ago (yipes, it might be three exactly) a friend of mine noticed that good things happen to me when there is a nine involved. Somewhere in the situation frame, calendar, or address there is a 9. After she pointed it out I started to pay attention. I had to admit that she was right and the reality was odd.

Tonight I did some googling and got the gospel on the number 9. Let’s call it my lucky number for simplicity. According to the website numerology.com many positive characteristics come with being a 9. My favorites from the list are:  

• helpful
• compassionate
• sophisticated
• generous
• romantic
• cooperative
• creative
• self-sufficient

 I am pretty confident I fit this list and this list fits me. Now I am not superstitious enough to let a website predict my new year by number. I am, however, going to research Feng Shui and learn how to integrate this number into my home. Let’s face it, last year wasn’t all that great and a little extra luck never hurts.

 ~Peace,

 Tina

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This week should be a brand new start in a way. Fresh air in the building and all that. Unfortunately there is no escape from unhappy people. People who need to gossip, stir up trouble, and generally entertain themselves by sticking little daggers are a constant parade. Some places harbor a larger percentage of same than others.

Minding your own business does not guarantee a refuge. Jealousy rules people who are not happy enough with their own lives. Unless you live in a mud hut, someone is likely to envy what you have. This is one factor that makes people ugly inside. Jewelry does not help.

Headed back to work on a Monday brings a mixed bag of thoughts. Supposedly the Christmas blanket of cheer should cover everything. It does not. Work should be a place that allows you to just concentrate on work. It is not. Petty people rarely change.

Opting not to play games is harder than it sounds when the music started without you. The best you can do is regulate them to 8 x 5 =40 in your life and no more. Leave the ball at the office so to speak. In private life, pick positive people who offer a contribution. Toxic people should not darken your doorstep or thoughts at home.

Cheers to another Monday.

~Peace,

Tina

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Every card mailed and every present purchased….. so now what do I do?

Waiting is a hard. Worse yet, the voice of pessimism wants to surface and remind me of how fast it will all fly by. Taking my afternoon walk I pass a favorite landmark. These neighbors have a pool and a boat dock. No boat for this family – just a dock with two anderondock chairs. They are blue and they are waiting too. Waiting for spring. Is anticipation sweeter?

So, I know that the little voice is right. We cannot hold onto time. The day is transient and will soon pass us by. If this were not so, I’d be back at 28. A very good year that was. Christmas will rush by and there is no holding it back.

All the same, for the moment I cannot help holding onto the wait.

~Peace,

Tina

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ReEntry as performed by the River Theater Company was a rocket ship ride through the emotional valley of Marine Corps life. Poignant and personal, five actors played many parts and provided snapshots of Corps culture. The Marine Corps is its own culture and spouses, children, and families all share in the life. When a Marine returns from deployment ReEntry into society is not easy. Everyone is affected but the Marine is expected to dip into the well of fortitude and deal with it on his/her own.

I have supported the Marines for many years now and there is a different feel here than other branches of service. If you are part of the mission, you are part of the family. There is more than locality involved in my choice to work for Marines so this drama felt personal to me also. Taken from three years worth of interviews, the words of each character were the words of real Marines.

In my time I have heard a lot of stories from a wide range of ranks. The ticket-in-the-basket ritual before battle was sad and strange to me though. Tickets remaining in the basket belong to those who did not come back. Testament of the injured boy beside of the road, helped despite clear and present danger of sniper fire, graphically painted the reality of war.

When I watch the news stories about our uniformed forces returning to a war zone I wonder what they think. Now I know what they say:

1st time – You are lucky

2nd time – God was on your side

3rd time – You are fucked

ReEntry shook me to the depths of my soul. Long since retired to corporate life, the theatre student in me woke up. It has been many, many years since I saw such a powerful play and realized what a contribution art can make to life. This art was made for life and to make a difference in the way returning Marines and soldiers are treated. They need to be able to seek therapy if they need it without fear of killing their career.

 ~Peace,

Tina

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Someone forgot to put the tree up. Someone forgot to make way for mantle decorations……….wait, that’s me. Roger.

Are there extra points for getting Christmas cards out on time? (most of them anyway) Would it make me happy if Santa said yes? No. The people I haven’t sent to yet aren’t sending to me at all so why am I worried? Because Christmas guilt must continue that’s why. It’s tradition. Like a runaway train it is hard to stop. Hurry, hurry, hurry, and worrying about The List is part of the package deal. Wonder we are not all stressed out and laying on the lawn, waiting for Santa to bring the defibrillator.

Now this was the year I planned to get industrious with baking. Miraculous creations would be mine. Friends would feint over my fabulous holiday creations. The culinary crown of fame had my name on it. Take that, Martha! Damn but that seemed like a good idea….in July.

 Time now is about as short as my patience. I am trying to buy a thingamabob for the whatzit office party and this lady in line is writing a check like its 1987 or something. Plastic people, please……it’s faster…DUH … get with it and get a debit card. Peace On Earth plays on the while I think how I’d like to bean her with the Salvation Army bell that’s on my last nerve too. Not nice. Santa wouldn’t like my attitude.

 Those prepackaged cookie dough rolls? Looking like a good choice to me. Will the doo-dad arrive in time for the brat’s stocking. Don’t know. Almost do not care. I want to have a nice Christmas and be all warm and fuzzy with the moment. I’m working on it. In the meantime, tell Santa to send me a lottery ticket and a few elves.

 ~Peace,

 Tina

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The year on my driver’s license does not bother me. Changes in the mirror have not cost me too much sleep (yet). I have even learned to adapt to the increased crowding of birthday candles on my carrot cake. What I really, really upsets me about aging can be boiled down to two words: hair products.

How long ago was it that I never worried or frankly cared about hair? Naturally curly hair is a blessing folks said and that, friends and neighbors, is a lie. I’ll tell you what a blessing is – it’s a day when your roots don’t need treatment. That’s a blessing!

Sad that the monetary value of hair products on my shelf could feed a third world family for a week. Worse still is discovering a new and rather expensive straightening treatment I cannot live without. Absolutely tragic that vanity will keep me on this self-obsessed treadmill for god- knows-how-long. I know when to file for social security but where are the just-say-no guidelines for highlights?

It’s o.k. This is only my retirement money I’m spending to spur the economy. When I reach that golden age, the universe will provide. Right.

Peace,

Tina

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Bono had the right idea. Maybe it wasn’t original but it was right and smart and he joined hands with Oprah who makes things happen.

What to give the person who has everything is a key question this time of year. Too many people have too much stuff. Whether or not America is the only country that pays people to store stuff we do not use I just cannot say. The fact is though, we do. We like to give to ourselves too. (If you bought a gift for yourself this season, raise your hand.)

One click shopping is dangerous stuff. They oughta invent a software program that saves us from ourselves. They probably will by next year and it will cost us $299. Yeesh. O.K. I am getting closer to the point.

It is possible to give to others and feed our philanthropic spirits as well. Here are a few suggestions:

Ten Thousand Villages http://www.tenthousandvillages.com/ helps third world countries, particularly the women who make the crafts.

Shop Housing Works http://shophousingworks.com/ sells vintage clothing and benefits HIV/AIDS patients.

(PRODUCT) RED http://www.joinred.com/red/#shopred sells a variety of products, including iPods, to fight AIDS in Africa.

Tru DIVA Productions http://www.trudivaproductions.com/ will donate part of their profits from their NOVA 2011 hot guy calendar to domestic violence programs.

We can give, get, and fell good. How did Bernie Mac used to say it? Something like, “Come on, America.”

~Peace,

Tina

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So I am wrapping presents and including notes when it occurs to me……………………not everyone will appreciate the humor in my newly acquired Neglected Murderesses stationary.  So I send a little present and include the drawing of Miss Q.P. Urkheimer, who apparently brained her fiance in will a bowling ball in 1936. Ha ha.

My sorority sister will laugh. She should. She’s the one who stripped Hobbit’s pants leaving him to run back to Hilton on the Hill. 60 frat dudes blamed me and I never dated another Lambda Chi. Actually that probably had more to do with what we wrote in the rocks than Hobbit’s pants. I digress….. and the explanation is too long. Gorey would have made excellent drawings of the scenes though.

Edward Gorey was an eccentric. He must have made some money before people started saying that or they would just have called him weird. He loved ballet, fur coats, and tennis shoes (who doesn’t) and had an extensive knowledge of literature and film.  True his work was a tad macabre but can’t we laugh at the awful? After all, everyone stares at traffic accidents.

~Peace,

Tina

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2010 has been pretty good to me. 2010 has been pretty bad to me. Basically, I am ready to put it to bed.

My mother always said, “Don’t wish your life away.” Mom never had a daily blog and a commute on 95. Seriously, I think I’ve exhausted this complaint.

Almost.

New friends entered my life this year and I am grateful. On the other hand, there are those who are leaving my life shortly. For this too I am grateful.

Fortune and misfortune are funny things since they often travel in adjoining sidecars. If one really, really bad thing had not happened then the really, really good thing would not have happened either. Where should the wish go?

Like a window open at the other end of the hall, the New Year brings fresh air. Like they say, “There is light at the end of the tunnel.”

~Peace,

Tina

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The sense of humor is still there.  ALS is slowly claiming her body but it cannot steal Debbie’s dignity. She is holding it too close.

Our Christmas party was a small group this year and since I am not running these days I am more of a tag along at runner’s parties. A bitter cold morning by anyone’s standards, the ladies cut their pre-breakfast feast run short. The rest of us sipped cider and anxiously awaited their return. When we knew for sure she was coming we all waited. It takes awhile to load the wheelchair etc.

Last year at this time she had some trouble moving one arm. Her best friend cut up her food but then Debbie managed on her own. This year we didn’t know what to expect. I did not.

“Wheelchair envy,” is what she faces with the ALS support group. The $34,000 chair is tricked out especially for ALS patients. An attachment folded to the back will accommodate chin support when she can no longer hold up her own head. For now, she makes jokes that ease her friend’s discomfort. Debbie’s indomitable spirit refuses to let ALS have the last word.

The Chinese gift exchange begins and my number is last. Wouldn’t you know she picked the gift I want? It is a wish pot with little scrolls to write your dreams on and then burn them. How did the universe know I was thinking of such a thing this morning? New Year’s goals are a religious thing to me and this year I have so many that a ceremony seems in order. I wanted that pot. For a long minute I had to pause. Stealing open gifts is part of the fun of the game but who steals from the woman in the wheelchair? If I didn’t play through though, was I treating Debbie like Debbie? I decide. I snatch the wish pot. Everyone laughs including Debbie. Her goal is to enjoy every moment she has. The gift she chooses to replace it turns out to be a beautiful Christmas crystal with mistletoe. Rightfully hers is the loveliest present in the pile.

Time to leave could be awkward. It takes time to prepare to leave, unfold the portable ramp, and load the custom built van. Without provocation, she explains where she stands. Her breathing velocity has dropped to 33. The doctor explained that 20 sustains life. A change in this range would be the most peaceful of possible deaths from ALS. All other choices are gruesome and her living will does not permit artificial care. She wants her family to get on with their life. Bravely and without self-pity, she is telling us the score.

We hug and kiss her goodbye and she wishes us a Merry Christmas. With mirth and sparkle in her eye she tells us to Google her blog…. Debbie Does ALS. I do. the address is: http://fivepercentodds.blogspot.com/

I should mention that Debbie was a marathoner who ran over 24 marathons in her time. Her legs aren’t strong anymore but her spirit is indomitable. Courage and grace are two things ALS cannot steal from her. Merry Christmas.

~Peace,

Tina

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Storytelling is a pastime of the ages. Truth, teaching, and entertainment are all good reasons for sharing stories. TELL-ing bridges the gap and makes friends out of strangers.

Before the boob tube and movie-of-the-week, folks gathered around storytellers. Traditions and histories were passed person to person. Mountain story tellers libated their audience with a little moonshine and the faithful always returned.

Fast forward to the 21st century and a lot of our inheritance seemed lost. An avenue for telling stories was needed so the new age term ‘performance art’ was coined. Nationwide, storytelling events, competitions, and organizations are breathing new life into this ancient art. TELL is becoming a popular attraction in our town as well.

Standing up in front of a room full of people is a tad intimidating. Those who haven’t spoken in public for years are not accustomed to the stress. Learning to deal with it and press forward takes practice.

Public speaking is more than art though. It is a building block to confidence. To quote the indefatigable Jennifer Anniston, ““Everything you want in the world is just right outside your comfort zone.”

~Peace,

Tina

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If you must, then try this at home. Truly, though……I wouldn’t recommend it.

I met a friend of mine in the ladies room (no not one of those). She was at the sink and standing kinda funny so I asked, what’s up? The story she told me was so hilarious I knew at once I had to blog.

We should start this story by talking about how many children my friend has (her own baseball team practically). Their ages are quite staggard so they wouldn’t field well (a lot like some northern teams from last year) and I forget the actual number so let’s just say (a lot). Anyway it seems that last weekend things got a bit boring in the house and they decided to bench press  and pick each other up.  Hmmmm. This was followed by a game of everyone-keep-a-finger-on-the-baby while she traveled.

    …………………………………………………Really?………………………………………………………

First, I was thinking “these people seriously need a Wii.” Everyone in the household has an injury of some sort and no explanation as to why hours were passed that way.  Then I realized what I really need to do is get a phone call and come over with my video camera next time. Now, that would be a unique  America’s Funniest Videos entry.  I’d be a top finalist at least.

Gotta remind her to call me on the next round. In the meantime, checkers is a game I recommend America.

~Peace,

Tina

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They are twenty feet high, forty years in the making, and eight tons of bronze. Testimony to a man’s dream, his determination driven as if by a demon, lives Rodin’s Gates of Hell. Because dreams, like viruses, can be caught and inflame others with shared passion, these gates now blaze in bronze glory.

The Kiss, The Thinker, and Degas tend to hog the glory. Housed in the Musée Rodin, Paris, The Thinker draws the crowd. Lesser known is the fact that our favorite mediator began as one of the many scenes François-Auguste-René Rodin modeled for his masterpiece. Classic mythology, biblical scenes, and the tales of Dantes war for space on the gates, angst and agony juxtaposed. The Thinker adorns bookshelves and desktops worldwide. He also sits atop the grave of a man whose talent rivaled Michelango.

My favorite is neither of these. Although The Burghers of Calais would prove a tight second, it is the depiction of Honoré de Balzac that fascinates me. Again I must digress from the preferences of the crowd as I am not talking about the majestic Monument to Balzac. No, it is the wit of a man whose work was otherwise serious and often macabre that fascinates me. Washington DC’s Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden is where I fell in love with Post-Balzac.

Balzac famously composed his novels in his bathrobe. Apparently, Balzac spent years in that robe and perhaps mocking the work that stirred so much controversy, Rodin sculpted the bathrobe of Balzac after his death. Impressive. Mine won’t make it as far as the Salvation Army let alone infamy.

Spending my birthday with a friend and viewing a film about Rodin was not only enjoyable but appropriate. As time marches on and I teeter on the edge of an age that marks me closer to one end of the spectrum than the other, time becomes important. Art is forever young. So in my heart I can feel sixteen and commune with what lasts, the beauty of the universe.

 ~Peace,

Tina

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If February did not have 29 days and March didn’t score a 32 – we’d be on the right day right now. The right day being my b-day, natch. So, this begs the question: Who would I like to have sing Happy Birthday to me if I could pick anyone in history. Hmmm.

Napoleon would rush through the song. All the party goers would be eating cake in no time. Picasso would be interesting but he would paint the scene afterwards and I don’t look good in geometric shapes. Who to channel?

This problem is trickier than I thought. There are a number of famous people I’d like to meet but images I am summoning aren’t really pretty. Think Honest Abe knew how to sing? Probably not. His tour bus would have stalled a long way from Washington.

Why am I only thinking of men here? How about Cleopatra? I am betting she knew how to get a party started. Princess Diana would be fun. If I had to concentrate on the living for this b-day song wish list I might be here all day. Babs can belt out a tune but this one might not be her specialty.

I truly think my biggest fantasy would involve John Lennon. The song would rock and he could talk about the early days of the fab four. Now that would be cool. While I ruminate over who I would pick from the impossible list, the sad fact is that John Lennon woulda, coulda, and shoulda been here with us in the now. If only we could turn back the clock and keep a deranged idiot from stealing Lennon’s life with a gun.  He would be 70, living in New York, and still be churning out wonderful music for us all.

Imagine.

 ~Peace,

Tina

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Eee gads I had hoped to never see him again on this planet! I don’t hate him, exactly. It is just such an irritation to remember liking him and all the garbage that was the package deal. There he was dammit smack in the middle of the stationary aisle. And I was cornered, literally because that is where I was standing enjoying my post-nutcase life.

This being Christmas and the calendar year almost complete, I would venture to guess he is on relationship number 8. At least it isn’t me listening to all his mess. Thank you, God.

I have had my nightmares and moved on. The only one I remember fondly was a different kind entirely.  Alice Cooper’s Welcome to My Nightmare LP still makes me smile. Even in full scary makeup, boots, and wearing nothing else but that boa constrictor, Alice’s nightmare is preferable to running into Mr. What Was Wrong With Me When I Liked Him. Seriously, I would rather see the snake than the heartache that was so utterly pointless.

The law of averages being what it is, we will not cross paths again for a long time. His loss. My gain. I’ve had more than enough of people who like to see me in pain. To have a friend you must be one and     we      are       not         friends.

Happy trails, partner.

~Peace,

Tina

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“It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.”   – Oscar Wilde

Oscar Knows Best. Sounds like a good title for a television show to me. Bless his deceased literary heart, Oscar knew.

Stepping back into the dating pool is an experience. The world may need all kinds but I clearly do not. A man doesn’t have to have a PhD to be smart. So, where are they hiding?

Intelligence is important and I am not interested in any equation where it is missing. Reading is important to many people and I for one need a man who reads more than the label on his beer and a NASCAR program. Do not hate me. I didn’t say anything mean about NASCAR – just looking for my male librarian counterpart here.

You are what you eat. It’s true. Feed your brain once a decade and you too will be a fish mouth conservationist asking banal questions on middle-aged dates. O.K. So I sound like a snob but a lover of poetry and truth wants the same. The contents of head and heart are what matter most.

What a man wears matters a lot less than what he reads. Somewhere above me Oscar is smiling in agreement. Right, Oscar?

~Peace,

Tina

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Zelda's First Novel Photo: Lianne van der Velde

I do love my job. Most importantly I love having a job. All the same, all week I dream about weekend mornings when I can do as I choose. This chilly winter morning finds me in bed (still) with the books I wanted to get to, my pink fuzzy socks (who knew 99 cents could buy happiness), a pot of hot foo-foo chocolate flavored coffee (Marines do not drink foo-foo coffee), and time to work on my writing. BLISS!

O.K. Yes, I would still prefer a date with Johnny Depp. He appears to be absolutely off the market though and living happily with his supermodel girlfriend (don’t you hate when that happens).  Yes, I would gladly trade my pj’s today for a boat ride down the Seine but commute is a bit much for my gotta-buy-Christmas-presents for other people December budget. And yes, I would brave the cold to watch the Iditarod instead (but it isn’t running) so really, my choice of a weekend morning is a pretty good one.

Maybe next year at this time I will be off doing something dazzling and highly exciting but at the moment…..life is pretty darn good right here. I’d love to chat further but the new addition of O magazine is calling my name and my cup needs a refill.

See you on the Riviera.

~Peace,

Tina

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Christmas is the season of goodwill towards men…………………now if a few women would get the idea then glad tidings to all would surely be the case. Why is passive agressive behaviour apparently latent in XX chromosomes?

Unfortunately the steroetypical characterization of women as beings who are mean to one another has firm rooting in research, not  rumor. Nowhere is this more evident than in office relationships where we are not free to decide who to talk to and who to ignore. Coworkers are not people we choose. Like neighbors, they come with the real estate. So too are coworkers likely to pee on your lawn (metaphorically, of course).

Ever hear the old adage, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” In the office this advice applies. Take yourself out of the loop of information and you could find yourself down, out, and your chair gone when the music stops. Deciding how intensly to play the game is a personal choice but on some level part of work involves the frenemies foreplay.

I do not know what the work experience is on the other side of the gender fence. From my view, men tend to bond and protect each other. Women on the other hand can be vicious. Karen Valen’s new book “The Twisted Sisterhood”  used research from 3,000 respondents and a whopping 85%  have experienced a negative undercurrent amoung females. That’s sad. Really, really sad. Sadder still to have to watch your back in the workplace from someone you have tried to trust and be good to.

So, the bottom line is that bitchy office politics do not stop for Christmas. The best you can hope for is to put the breaks on your response and fill your own heart with good cheer. Research also supports the known fact that positive female to remale relationships strengthen our immune systems.

Happy Holidays, ladies.

~Peace,

Tina

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Is it my imagination or does Virginia  seem to support the arts more than other states? Everywhere I travel in my adopted home state I find towns with art walks or cafes that host local talent. Virginia definitely has a culture different than neighboring states.

Personally I never thought I could pick up a paint brush and create something. Although I have seen ordinary people do it, this still seems like magic to me. Creating a statue is beyond my compreshension. I still believe fairies place them in parks in the middle of the night.

At my age people start to think seriously about planning for retirement. Where? That is always the big question. Money is an issue. Taxes are another. Quality of life should certainly rate at the top. Somewhere in the equasion one has to stop and think about what they will do with their life in those golden years. I have given it some thought and decided that I do not really want much. Mostly I want to be near beautiful things, happy people, and have stimulating conversations with those around me. Many locals rank but my heart and mind keep pointing me towards Virginia. The richness of the culture will keep me planted here.

I thing the tourism board in Richmond should change the state slogan. Virginia is more than a draw for lovers. It is the place to be for art lovers.

~Peace,

Tina

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Cousin of Clyde: Herman by Lianne van der Velde

Clyde has been on my calendar for a week. I have not seen him in awhile so I know he is wondering what the deal is. Let’s not forget that he has never really forgiven me for those four months in Germany. After all, I had been in his life since kittenhood and he never granted travel permission.

Fast forward seven years and Clyde is a bit of an old man, now snoozing through life #6. His adventures could fill a book and certainly this blog. There was the time he was lost for a year. That was mysterious and heartbreaking. We never knew what happened but expect it was a Vegas divorce type thing and we, his people, waited patiently for the paternity lawsuits. They never came.

Clyde’s jaws don’t fit together just right anymore. Third time is not the charm when it means being hit by a car. The last one nearly was the last one. Some days when I visit he is grumpy, unfriendly, and unwilling to forgive me for moving to the next county. I am a frequent feline disappointment it seems. Other times he is more of his old self and wants to snuggle in my lap. Trouble is that there is a lot more of him and despite the fact I have a lot more lap it just isn’t the same. Clyde remembers laying in a tight little ball above my knees and nothing else will do.

Sometimes a good dose of feline friendship is what you need after a hard day. My friend ran his motor and let me know I am still loved. Jumpy, White Toes, Beauty, and Emma are special too but the old man of the establishment is forever my favorite.

Clyde rules!

~Peace,

Tina

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Practicing my goodbye speech feels weird. It also feels like freedom. I started this blog with a singular idea and watched it morph.

Somehow, February gained a day. Then when I moved the blog from one hosting environment to another, an extra number was duplicated. Therefore this blog will not be numbered correctly at the end. However, the end is in sight.

Today I am writing this on December the 1^st.  That means I have 31 days left to blog 365. Beyond that I plan to graduate to my next project. I am excited. I am ready. And I am loving December.

Many memorable things have happened this year. The good and bad are lumped together under the same banner of 2010. 2011 is the future. A future that will be as bright as I can make it awaits. In the middle there is December. So right now I plan to just enjoy the gingerbread…..but   I     am      counting! 

~Peace,

Tina

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I would hate to spoil the end of Eat Pray Love if you have not seen the movie but Julia Roberts has a nice soliloquy that maps the path to inner peace. Really, you shouldn’t miss it.

Clever screenwriters coined the term Quest Physics to put a name on mid-life angst we all feel at one time or another. Since Julia is in a movie, she gets to explore the source of hers on an intercontinental year-long vacation. I can’t prove it but I am pretty sure my inner peace would be restored with a vacation circa 365. The lines themselves though are poignant.

Summing up the message and applying my own spin the Reader’s Digest version follows: Life is like take-out. This whole deal is self-serve and while someone in a Benz may pull up to your door and deliver a well-done sirloin, don’t count on it. Get off the couch, grab your keys, find a map and figure out what you want. What makes you truly happy may well lie just outside your comfort zone. Most likely it does.

There are a number of ways to pretty up this message and rephrase it. Basically it boils down to a universal truth: not much happens if you sit still.

Life is on the other side of your wall.

 ~Peace,

Tina

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Reading Danny Danziger and John Gillingham’s book 1215 taught me a thing or two about animal husbandry. I must confess that I thought oxen were a breed. How far we urbanites have strayed from our farm roots is a sin. City kids lack education about food other than McDonalds. Ugghh! What do we have to show for our ‘progress’? We could list childhood obesity and juvenile diabetes for starters.

Learning to cook in my 20’s, I was determined to break the mold I knew. Southern cooking as taught to my mother’s generation meant keeping a jar of bacon grease at the ready. All things were seasoned with bacon ‘drippings.’ However, to her credit she knew how to cook every type of green grown on a farm. Aside from seasoning most all meals with pork products, our vegetable consumption varied and a wonderful experience. My mother grew up eating fresh food she bought it for us. Sadly too many of today’s kids live out of cans and microwave their meals. How will we ever raise healthy kids is the only vegetable they can name is a French fry?

With a little help from corporate sponsors, North Carolina can now boast an innovative approach to combating these problems. Edible Classroom was designed to delight, educate, and convert the next generation. Members of the Healthy Eating Faithful won’t sprout unless cultivated. Logically, it’s best to start with the young. Then they can teach the rest of us.

Three cheers for corporate responsibility.

 ~Peace,

 Tina

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As the last bits of turkey and dressing disappear, I become preoccupied with home chores awaiting attention. Time constraints are always an issue. For every pleasure event, there is an associated cost every working woman knows too well. If I allow them to, the Sunday night blues will set in early. Stuff needs doing. Period.

Barreling north on 85, resolutions and broader goals aka the life-changing kind spin in my brain. Here is a fun fact: my 49th birthday approaches like a freight train. Yikes! One year away from the big 5 – 0 is a serious age and certainly an attention getter.

What have I done with my life?  I have accomplished several things I intended to and I am proud of that. On the other hand, many of my younger dreams remain unrealized. They were packed away when the necessity of making a living demanded it. Some might say I gave in and this could well be true. Then again, I have never given up.

I still have those dreams. Finding them through the fog of stuff and obligation and accumulated clutter is hard. Difficult but not undoable is how I would rate the tasks ahead. Writing means everything to me. More space in my life and my den is needed to turn dreams into reality. So when I get home, this process starts with the den. Frivolous junk is going to go bye-bye. That extra space is not a junk room but rather a writer’s sanctuary. Goodwill, old friends, and the landfill are set to receive.

Time to roll up my sleeves, I have work to do.

~Peace,

 Tina

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When I was a kid there was a popular commercial about littering. It must have been popular. The same commercial ran night and day and on every channel it seemed. A single Native American (we called them Indians back then) strolled onto a field strewn with litter, looked poignantly at the camera, and shed a tear. Powerful stuff.

Our planet has a lot bigger problems than wrappers not placed in cans but it does add up and kids get that. If only the grownups would ‘get it’ we might make some progress while we can. Despite the naysayers who call environmentalists ‘alarmist extremist’ the sky is indeed in danger of falling Chicken Little.

On my way home from the Thanksgiving family trek I stopped for nature and a soda. The rest area was teeming with folks not ready to resume jockeying in traffic. A recycling bin sat next to the regular trash bin, green Recycle can clearly marked to convey acceptable items. As I walked by a man of something near my 40 something years threw a can away in the regular trash. Some do. Most do not –  is the rule when it comes to recycling. No one wants to police other people so it tends to be something we accept.

“Hey,” said someone’s seven or eight years old (who can tell…he was a little person anyway) “that’s the wrong one.”

“Kid, I don’t care,” said the man and now he had a silent reproachful audience. Polluting the planet is apparently o.k. compared to rudeness to little blond almost boy scouts. Little guy stood his ground. Maybe he wondered what to say to an adult. Maybe he was about to say something. I hit the pause button wondering if his mother was the blue-jeaned woman at the snack machine.

Mr. Litterbug took four steps back, picked out the can, and tossed it in the green bin. No one said anything. Off ran our little friend to his dad and his dog and I dug for my car keys in embarrassment. What had I done to help the environment? Nothing.

Now I know what the planet needs to help make a difference: an army of seven year olds.

~Peace,

Tina

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What happened to Thanksgiving?

Christmas creep traditionally starts early. Thanksgiving gets the shaft with barely a wink, a nod, and a turkey/football/turkey sandwich before Christmas snags the headline.

The situation is understandable: retailers need the holiday, children want stuff from Santa, and ministers want the full pews. Need. Need. Want. Want. Despite all our rhetoric about joy and goodwill, Christmas cheer is largely powered by stuff.

About 300 years ago, (yes, I know I could look up the date) a group of pilgrims were thankful for their survival in a new land. As a show of thanks they invited the Native Americans who helped them out. (They were soon sorry but more on that later) So, tradition holds to make a really good meal every fourth Thursday in November and invite family and friends to enjoy. Most everyone does. To my experience the cook sits down in pure exhaustion, men slurp down mashed potatoes, and everyone runs to the television for football or Wii games leaving aforementioned cook with the mess. Then it is over and we wake on Friday to shopping madness. Is this really what our fore parents intended?

I think we need to put the thanks back in Thanksgiving. Let’s create a true tradition of counting our blessings and outlaw Black Friday.

Time Out is more than a game call.

~Peace,

Tina

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New Year’s Eve is the time that most folks make resolutions. I wholeheartedly believe in resolutions but I think they should start with my birthday. After all, that’s my new year. My birthday also happens to be relatively close to the last day on the Julian calendar and that’s convenient. I like to think that the world is reflecting on my year ahead but I acknowledge the actual count is a tad smaller.

Many good things happened last year and I am still counting my blessings. Many bad things happened and I still hurt. Thanksgiving is the time to be grateful and gratitude is a cousin of forgiveness. Forgiveness means shutting the door on ugliness and moving on. The best way to move forward is to reach out for the good things in your life. 

I am grateful to my cousins for letting me in and welcoming me with open hearts. Who knew losing an uncle would lead to discovering and entire line of family? The two littlest cousins will giggle at my jokes, no matter how silly, because that is what little girls do. I will laugh too and start bricking the wall that pulls the curtain between that bad of last year and the brightness of my future.

~Peace,

Tina

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Frankly, I don’t believe I have gotten myself in this ridiculous position. We jockeyed over the phone number. Would I give him mine or would he give me his? I conceeded and let the man have his way. Now I am waiting for the phone to ring. This is no more fun than it ever was.

Right about now he could be eating dinner and check off all the things he needs to do before calling. Then again, he could have changed his mind, lost interest, or moved to Texas. On the other hand, we did leave to possibility of tomorrow hanging in the air. I just had not wanted to be the one to push specifics. Augh!

O.K. Note to self – Self, sit no more by telephones. Really, grownups should not do this. Grown women should not do this. Of course, as soon as I finish this rant the phone could ring and my argument is mute.

~Peace,

Tina

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Sometimes you don’t really have a fight with your friend but you find yourselves perturbed nonetheless. Peace does not reign and the friendship is strained. Someone has to offer the peace pipe.

What happened when Felix lived with Oscar? Squabbles, winning, losing, compromise etc. It all happens. One person is punctuality obsessed and the other is decidedly more relaxed. That’s pretty much the state of the human race. So what’s the next step? How do you make up from a non-fight?

A nice gesture will help. The truth is your stomach won’t rest until harmony is restored. You don’t have to have his car detailed or pay for her next perm, just send a little card or note by snail mail to say thanks for being my friend. Yes, I said snail mail. The effort means something. Hurt feelings fester unless quickly capped.

Life is short. Real friends are hard to come by. Make up. Make peace. Smile.

~Peace,

Tina

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“It takes guts to lead the life you want.”

~Revolutionary Road

You have heard that song, right? The one with the sweet, haunting melody that takes you somewhere. Quite a familiar tune if only you could place it in your life. In the moment though, it’s not important and all those things you dreamed of doing seems possible. Then you remember the dry cleaning and the need to stop for milk and the gossemer ghost is gone.

My Facebook post looked radical and I am sure someone wanted to answer me with a Helen Reddy tune. I don’t care. Julie never wanted to do the whole expected-of-you marriage thing and I feel the same. Freedom means a lot to me and I don’t mean only the American salute-the-flag kind. I mean the free-to-fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind that comes from choosing to stay single.

Women in a third of the world wish they had the choices we have. So, when my sorority sister lightly poked fun at her status I had respond. I cherish my right to create, recreate, and bare responsibility for my own path.

April Wheeler wasn’t a stunning character but she knew what she wanted: possibilities. The line I loved best was April’s declaration that she didn’t want out of life, she wanted in. She took the liberty to dream and stole her freedom. I wound up loving this film. 

Lately, often in the afternoon, I look at the clock and find myself thinking, what time is it right now in Paris anyway?

~Peace,

Tina

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