Instructions for Life

I didn’t write any of this, just passing on good advice.

If you have to ask if it’s too early for wine… you’re an amateur and we can’t be friends.

1.  Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully. 

2.  Memorize your favorite poem.

3.  Don’t believe all you hear, spend all you have, or sleep all you want. 

4.  When you say, “I love you”, mean it.

5.  When you say, “I’m sorry”, look the person in the eye. 

6.  Be engaged at least six months before you get married. 

7.  Believe in love at first sight.

8.  Never laugh at anyone’s dreams.

9.  Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it’s the only way to live life completely.

10. In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling. 

11. Don’t judge people by their relatives.

12. Talk slow but think quick.

13. When someone asks you a question you don’t want to answer, smile and ask, “Why do you want to know?”.

14. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk. 

15. Call your mom.

16. Say “bless you” when you hear someone sneeze. 

17. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.

18. Remember the three R’s: Respect for self; Respect for others; Responsibility for all your actions.

19. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

20. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

21. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in in your voice.

22. Marry a man you love to talk to. As you get older, his conversational  skills will be as important as any other.

23. Spend some time alone.

24. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values. 

25. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

26. Read more books and watch less TV.

27. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back,  you’ll get to enjoy it a second time.

28. Trust in God but lock your car.

29. A loving atmosphere in your home is so important. Do all you can to create a tranquil harmonious home.

30. In disagreements with loved ones, deal with the current situation.  Don’t bring up the past.

31. Read between the lines.

32. Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality. 

33. Be gentle with the earth.

34. Pray there’s immeasurable power in it.

35. Never interrupt when you are being flattered. 

36. Mind your own business.

37. Don’t trust a man who doesn’t close his eyes when you kiss him. 

38. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.

39. If you make a lot of money, put it to use helping others while

you  are living. That is wealth’s greatest satisfaction.

40. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a stroke of luck.

41. Learn the rules then break some.

42. Remember that the best relationship is one where your love for each other is greater than your need for each other.

43. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it. 

44. Remember that your character is your destiny.

45. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER – by Erma Bombeck

(written after she found out she was dying from cancer)

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I wasn’t there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.

I would have never bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

There would have been more “I love yous.”  More “I’m sorrys.”

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute… look at it and really see it… live it and never give it back. Stop sweating the small stuff.

Don’t worry about who doesn’t like you, who has more, or who’s doing what.

Instead, let’s cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

Let’s think about what God HAS blessed us with.  And what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally, there’s one shot at this and then it’s gone.

Pet Peeves

OMG where do I start? What do these have in common? They are my Pet Peeves! Although, truth be told, tailgaters and other aggressive drivers are nothing more than bullies. Bullies push around others to make themselves feel bigger, more powerful, better than everyone else; or just better than their current intended victim. How do you feel when a car pulls right up on your bumper at 70MPH? It feels like they are pushing you to get out of their way. No matter you are already going 5 or 10 miles over the speed limit. No matter that there is another car right in front of you. And no matter that there is someone right next to you so you couldn’t pull over even if you were inclined to give in to the jerk behind you. I am not so inclined. I will, in fact, take my foot off the gas and drop down to the posted speed limit or less so that if said jerk were to hit me, it would have less impact at a lower speed. I refuse to let bullies win. I refuse to add to their imagined greatness.

I had one such bully literally screaming at me from behind. As if I could hear him! A woman sat next to him, obviously pleading with him to stop. Now, in my defense, we were in close to bumper to bumper traffic, nowhere to go. He found an opening to pull over but my lane pulled way ahead and I think I might have heard him scream. Forgive me for laughing a bit over that. He managed to change lanes over and over, bullying his way in at times. My exit was coming up so I started to get over and this jerk gave up the left lane to come after me. He worked his way around to keep me from moving to the right to get off. No matter, I wasn’t in a hurry and I could go to the next exit. I’m starting to think his lady friend has had a stroke she is so angry now at him. I keep moving over as I’m able and while he’s in front of my I get his license plate on my phone, which I have been using to record this mess.

Later that evening at home, my neighbor, Matt, and his girlfriend come over for an impromptu dinner that I’ve thrown together when he asked if he could stop by to talk. So I show him my video of the event. Now, Matt is a highway patrolman. And he is very protective of me. His face scrunches up when he sees the guy screaming. Scrunches even more when he sees the maneuver to block me and intimidate me. Then he sees the plate and tells me he’ll take care of this.

Next day he knocks on my door to tell me he took his cruiser to this guy’s house and read him the riot act. Told him he was now in the system and all cops had him info and were on the look out for his bad behavior. And next time he’d end up in court. Matt said the guy shrunk before his eyes but didn’t apologize. I’m sure he thought twice before pulling that stunt again.

Ever see a bad driver and wish there was a cop around but there never is? One day, back in California, I was stuck behind a line of cars waiting their turn to get onto school grounds to pick up their kids. I had never driven that way at that time so it caught me by surprise. One lane in each direction and nowhere to go. So I sit back and listen to my music. There’s a tricked-out truck behind me. You know the kind that a young guy buys to feel more like a man, big tires, bright red paint job, Chrome roll bar. Two guys trying to force everyone into the oncoming traffic lane so they can get ahead. The shoulder sloped steeply up so this was their only option other than to just wait. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one wishing for a cop. So these guys take their truck up onto the soft sloped shoulder and speed ahead. I’m thinking, aside from the cop wish, good riddance. As the cars continue to inch ahead, I pulled forward and saw a church parking lot on the right I’d never really paid any attention to before. And there in the lot is the truck along with other cars and trucks and several police cars. Ha! Gotcha! Once in a while the good guys win! I bet everyone in line was doing their own little victory dance in their car seats.

Now, bullies come in all shapes and sizes and situations. The guy refusing to wear a mask. The woman with 30 items in her cart in the express lane. The guy pushing for sex. The schoolyard fights that are usually started by one kid making fun of another kid. Bullies. The man who shouts over another’s turn to talk again and again because he doesn’t have a real answer and so needs to derail the other guy in any way he can. Recognize that last one? I hate them all, each and every one. I have a friend who ‘hates’ the word hate. I feel it’s justified in some instances. The stronger shouldn’t prey on the weaker. And everyone around should stand up to the stronger one and collectively knock him down. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

Now let’s talk about labels. Those horrible things that manufacturers sew into seams. Or are attached with super-human glue that will outlive all of us. Or the label that comes apart as you try to remove it because it’s segmented to do that. (Talk about evil) These things are impossible to remove cleanly. You always have some threads hanging or the glue residue you can’t get off your product or your fingers. Or, even worse, you’ve cut into the shirt or pillow or fabric or whatever while trying to cut off the label. It’s enough to make you cry. I purchased an expensive ($140) white goose down pillow. It had multiple labels loaded together along one seam. Cutting off those suckers was not easy and had me praying I didn’t cut into the pillow and release a cloud of down into my bedroom.

I’ve seen so many people with their shirt tags hanging out that it re-enforces my need to remove them all. Don’t you just want to go up to them and say, “um, excuse me, but your label is showing.” Then there are the semi-sheer shirts with a dark black tag inside. Do these women not think that label is going to show? What are they thinking? But then, these are probably the same ones who let their bra straps show or let their pants hand down around their hips so we all know they’re wearing Star Wars briefs under there.

I live in an apartment building. Supposedly a very nice apartment complex but they are built just like every other one out there. You can hear your neighbors. Mostly it’s ok because it’s either occasional or it’s so soft it’s like background noise. But a new guy moved in upstairs last week and I an ready to climb up the stairs and throttle him to within an inch of his scum-sucking life. He’s in his 20s-30s but walks around like he’s a toddler having a temper tantrum. It’s this constant stomp, stomp, stomp. Remember the scene in Jurassic Park where the T-Rex makes his appearance in the rain? It’s like a mini-earthquake with every stomp. The doors and my headboard rattles. I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him. No jury on Earth would convict me. It went on until 1:10 am the other night… um morning?

Okay, other pet peeves. People who talk so loud all the time that it’s like a normal person yelling. Or someone who chews with their mouth open. Ugh! Beards. I have a deep dislike for a beard that is more than about ¼” long. Just no. And forget about the ones on Duck Dynasty. OMG, horrifying. And gross, totally gross. Guys who spit. Gross.

Okay, done ranting for the day. I feel so much better!

ER Visit – to go or not to go?

So I had to visit the emergency room in my nearby hospital today. I went with trepidation. I had excruciating pain in my rib cage and I was thinking I had cracked a rib or maybe popped a hernia. I couldn’t pinpoint anything to have caused these things but I could barely get out of bed. Rolling over to my left side and struggling to push up from there was my only option. Rolling onto my right side brought a round of whimpers and staccato breathing. Okay, just lie back down and breathe s l o w l y. Not helping. At all. I managed to get up again and took a Vicodin left over from last year.

I’m not prone to taking much pain medication as I have a high tolerance to pain. This fact made me start to think that maybe I had something really wrong with me if the pain was getting to me. I mean, after getting hit by a car, I had to have both knees replaced. At the two-week appointment to have the staples removed from the first knee, I was smiling and my doc said nobody smiled at this point. But I was good. I turned down his offer of 45 more Vicodin. More shock on his part but I told him I had plenty left. So, no, not an addictive personality so I have a stash of not-too-old Vicodin in my nightstand. I took one and hoped it would help me sleep. It didn’t really help with the pain but it did help me sleep.

Morning came and I opened my eyes thinking maybe I would be fine. Nothing hurt so… so far so good. Then I tried to get up and it hit me like a semi truck. PAIN! Lots of pain. Searing like a knife was just thrust into my side. OMG! I tried not to move as I tried to catch my breath. Well, this sucks. So, okay, not just a stitch in my side. I had to consider my options. Urgent Care? But would they turn around and need to send me on to the hospital for more tests? I DID NOT want to enter a hospital. I’ve been so good, so careful about Covid-19 and now I was contemplating walking into the lion’s den? Was I out of my mind?

I went downstairs and discussed with my housemates, a married couple. They suggested calling an ambulance since we had free service. I was planning to drive myself but I was getting clammy and hot and weepy all at once and didn’t think I would make a good driver at that moment. The husband couldn’t drive me because the wife just had some seizures and he had to stay with her while the docs got her meds right. So off I go in an ambulance. Riding to the ER hurt like HELL. I felt every bump in the road.

Once at the ER, I was really wishing I’d stayed home. I did not want to be there. But it was clean and fairly empty and I felt okay once inside. After they took my temperature I was put in a room, given a gown. They took blood, a lot of blood, did an EKG, chest CT with contrast. You gotta love the contrast, it feels like a hot toddy has been infused into your bloodstream. Then you feel like you peed in your pants. They warned me of this but it still feels weird. My second time getting one of these and still, it was weird.

Back to my room for a while. Two more hours reading my Kindle and now I’ve been here nearly five hours. Later, at around the 6 1/2 hour mark, the PA comes in and says my blood looked ‘awesome’. CT showed everything looked good there as well. No hernia, no broken bones, nada. After all of that, it turns out that I shredded the muscles that are between each of the ribs. All the ones on the right were torn and inflamed. I’d mentioned that I had an asthma attack two days before, a ton of coughing that was really bad enough to cause me to throw up. Yep, I did this to myself. I ripped up my muscles with. one. asthma. attack. And it was going to take 6-8 weeks to heal. Wonderful. Can’t wait for the bills to start coming in.

BUT. I got pain meds and muscle relaxers that I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t gone through all that. And if I hadn’t gone I’d have worried something worse was going on. So, all in all, I’m glad I went. A friend came and got me and brought me home, stopping for fast food on the way home because it was after 5pm and I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink that day besides a couple of hospital crackers. Now I plan to spend the next week or so doing absolutely nothing but lying in bed and taking it easy. Reading my Kindle, sleeping in, maybe watching some TV. No nothing else. Seems like that’s what I’ve been doing for months since Covid started…

…and so my ramblings continue.

Music & Lyrics

Music fills voids in my life. Different music, different purpose, different void. For example, New Age and Instrumental are great for relaxing, studying, or just noise cancellation. It also helps if I’m anxious about something, like, oh I don’t know, Covid-19, racial unrest, sexual harassment, terrorists, idiot politicians, and the list can grow quite long. Pop is more for gettings things done around the house. Or if I’m feeling depressed. Put on some Pop music and household chores go a little bit faster, a little bit easier. My mood is lighter while I’m listening to Adele stomp all over a man or roll in the deep. I listen to Christian music when I want to commune with God or just sing His praises. And rock music is for when I want to beat someone over the head and so I listen to Rock music instead. It’s not a perfect system but it works for me.

I love the Beatles and Barry Manilow. (Don’t judge me, Barry was an amazing songwriter and singer). I also enjoy Garth Brooks, Adele, Lady A (previously known as Lady Antebellum), Lady Gaga, Barbra (no last name needed) The Four Seasons, Boz Scaggs, Josh Groban, Celine Dion, Casting Crowns, Wayne Watson, Ed Sheeran, Elton John. Do you know all of those?

Music lifts me up to new heights where I can just… be. Just be the music. It erases the world in a good way and fills me with hope and joy and happiness. It’s like waking up to a light breeze on a warm spring day. Music is everything. I can’t imagine a life without it. I believe the Bible says there is a lot of singing in Heaven. I can’t even imagine how amazing that will be. Zephaniah 3:17-18 in part says, “He will take delight in you with gladness.  With his love, he will calm all your fears.  He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” Wow. Jesus is going to sing. To me. For me. Can’t wait.

When I was at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, I had two students working under me. They were from India, married, and lovely. Jimmy Chinoy and Naheed Kapadia. I taught Jimmy how to drive and, let me tell you, that was an experience! He had to learn that the lines on the road meant STAY IN YOUR OWN LANE! It’s funny. Now. Back then, not so much. Jimmy loved classical music and turned me on to it. We had a conversation once about the importance of music in his life and he said he would rather go blind than be deaf. I simply could not imagine being blind but he could not imagine never hearing music again and would gladly give up his sight if it meant he would not lose his music. Of course, I can’t imagine losing either. I’d rather lose taste or smell before sight or sound. Not a choice I would like to ever have to make. How do you choose between the sweet smell of spring lilacs or the taste of a fresh, ripe peach? The sound of music or the face of your loved ones? Makes me shudder to even think about it. But it shows what was most important to Jimmy.

Pop and Christian music bring me more than the tune, they bring me the words and meaning of the song. I find that, as a woman, I can read or write or watch TV and still carry on a conversation. But with music, a lot of songs just take me over and I have to pause a conversation or task just to listen to the entire song, maybe sing along with it. I have sat in my car when I’ve reached my destination just so that I can finish listening to a favorite song. Just did that this morning. Music moves me. The words move me. The feelings put into those words move me. Some songs have a bridge that is so stirring to me it might bring tears, depending on my mood while listening to it. I’ve been known to play a song over several times to hear that part.

That’s why movies have music. Have you ever watched a movie without the sound on? Try it sometime. Watch a scene, rewind, and play with the sound muted. You might have to laugh at what you see because without music, it may look a bit comical. Trust me on this, I’ve done it. Movies lose a lot, if not most, of their mood, their tension, without music. TV shows as well. What’s a sitcom without its laugh track? Your family around the dining room table. It’s just life. Add a soundtrack to your life and I bet a lot of it can be pretty funny.

Take an hour and plug into some music. Close your eyes and allow yourself to drift along to the tune. You’ll be better for it.

Gratitude and Attitude

Piised off and ready to change some things.

Today I am juggling both anger and sadness and trying to find some gratitude to balance the mix. I’m sure most people out there are as exhausted by our current pandemics as I am. Pandemics, you say? Plural? Yes, plural. We are in the midst of a viral pandemic and a racial pandemic. Neither has an easy cure and both have the hope of millions for those cures. One we have lived with for many years, decades, without acknowledging that it was a crisis in waiting. The other came upon us slowly but because those in charge in both China (hiding it) and America (ignoring the signs and in denial) did nothing about it for so long, it became so much worse than it had to be. So much more deadly than it should have been. And it’s still growing despite what some people are saying to the public. And now more and more young people under 30 are getting sick. Why? Because they think they’re immune.

And we all suffer for it. For their ineptness. For their arrogance. For their selfishness. For their hatred. We suffer both of these pandemics now at the same time. And I find that my attitude towards it all fluctuates between apathy, depression, hopelessness, despair, and anger. Anger at not doing more about the first problem and anger at those who did nothing for so long about the second. I can’t be angry at others for doing nothing about racism since I also did nothing. I didn’t ‘see’ it. Because I have friends of all colors and backgrounds, I was blind to the plight of the black male in this country. Now, after reading these stories, I am stunned that we have allowed this to happen. And continue to happen even now. Even now when the streets are overflowing with protestors, police and politicians still find ways to oppress and hate and justify their actions. And it slides my attitude over closer to the anger side of things. I’m all about protecting the underdog. Standing up for what’s right. Standing against injustice. I want change and I want it now. But that’s just me. I’m impatient about these kinds of things.

So I’m looking for some good out there. I read in an article from CNN that some scientists think the Polio vaccine might be promising against Covid-19 because they share the same viral background. This is a positive thing to dwell on. And I see people rallying together, praying together, holding on together, no matter their skin color. And I am encouraged. Encouraged that the future may well be a little bit brighter than I thought it might. There are several young people under 30 who I love and care deeply about. Many more who are the very young children of people I care about. And all those I have no connection to at all. I pray that the future is better for them to live in. I pray that they forgive us for the mess we have allowed to fester. I pray that we make enough changes in the world to start to reverse the damage we’ve caused. The damage we’ve allowed to happen.

I find myself having to adjust my attitude towards those in power, those who don’t do things that way I think they should be done. Those who oppose those things I hold dear. Rather than lower myself into feelings of anger and hate, I pray for these individuals to receive enlightenment while there is still time to make changes for the better. That’s hard. I ask that they be smarter and care more about us than themselves. More about the future of this world than about their own pocketbook. I pray that some of them look in the mirror and realize that they don’t like what they see. And change.

So I strive for gratitude instead of my usual attitude towards those currently in power. I strive for hope instead of anger. And I pray that God has mercy on us.

Being Horizontal

Ah, the joy of being horizontal. Being able to wake up when my body tells me it’s time to be awake rather than having an alarm clock rudely intrude on my Zzzzzs. Waking up to birds singing or rain pounding on the windows is so much better than hearing the persistent buzzing of an artificial alarm. Now, my alarm was always nature sounds anyway so I shouldn’t complain. I purchased a high-end clock with sound machine built in and I could set it to anything from white noise to rain to birds to ocean waves. And that would be enough to go to sleep to (it faded out over 90 minutes) and wake me in the morning. But. I was still being awakened before my own internal clock said it was time to rise and shine.

Now, I loved my job. I’m a graphic designer and loved my most of my jobs for the last 20-odd years. I also trained and supported other designers in my last company, something I also loved. And I enjoyed the people I worked with so much. Intelligent, talented people who became family to me. When this last company started having money issues, (it’s a newspaper giant. Or was anyway.) it started feeling less like a family as they made cuts to the staff over several years. It’s been hard to let go. Things in the office started to change. It became very political and all about who you knew rather than what you did. Or how long you had done it. It became less and less like family. Laying off people with decades of experience and hiring young kids right out of college. Read: cheaper help. One day my entire department was eliminated, right before Christmas; so cliché. And just about three months after the president told us to our faces that it wasn’t going to happen. Now he is gone as well.

So, while at first I was hurt and sad, and cried my way out the door. Oh, not for the job; for the people, my people, my family. I’m okay now. I desperately miss working with my friends every day. I miss seeing them every day, sharing lunch, laughing and joking, and just being around them. I miss our potluck Mondays. It’s a bit like a divorce, you move on but sometimes it just sneaks up on you when you least expect it and hits you hard and hurts so much. We still connect on Facebook, especially lately with all the racial and Covid-19 pandemics.

Taking a nap in the middle of the day has become a lovely thing. From about 2-3pm I snooze and wake up to Ed Sheeran’s Perfect. (I love my iPhone!). Just lying there is such a luxury I never had before when I was working. When I lived in California, just south of Santa Cruz in a town called Aptos, we had a hammock in the garden. The weather there is wonderful year round so laying in the hammock, whether or not I napped, was so soothing; under two trees, soft breezes, perfect weather. No humidity or mosquitoes. Those were the days.

Now, after most of the world around me is slumbering, I lie in bed, reading some new book I got on Kindle Unlimited. I wear reading glasses that have blue-light protection so it doesn’t keep me awake. I guess I just prefer the quiet of this time to read peacefully without interruption.

And so, not having a job to go to, I sleep in. And because I’m creative and need an outlet, I work on creating pages for my coloring books or women’s journals that I hope will someday flourish on Amazon. Or even better, through a publisher. And now I’ve started a blog. All to give my creativity a release so I don’t explode or something. Sometimes I fight insomnia. I was still awake at 4am the other night, um, morning. Sometimes I fight depression. Lately I’m wondering about the meaning of life and what is the point of it all. So I write. It’s a good outlet. Hopefully one or two people will read my blog and enjoy my words. Maybe follow me. Maybe ponder what I’ve written or get a good laugh or just smile for a minute.

Or I’ll just inspire someone to get horizontal and take a nap. I think it’s that time again. Zzzzzzzz…

Life just isn’t Fair

I have been dealing with a lot of problems in my life. Working on finding a new place to live, finding some kind of job for a little additional income, health issues. Typical human stuff. Nothing life threatening, just draining, exhausting at times.

But I have a friend who is battling for her life. Battling brain cancer for the last three years and defying all odds. Still working full time, still active in the garden, not as strong as she used to be but, oh my gosh, she keeps on keeping on. Recently she’s had several small strokes and now a blood clot in her brain. This makes me so afraid for her and sad and angry. She’s a good person, the best. Why can’t cancer go pick on the bad guys? Go find some pedophiles and murderers and rapists and attack them. Go hit on the drug dealers and mafia members. Pick on the racists and misogynists and hatemongers. Leave the good people alone. This world would be a better place.

Cancer is a nasty disease. I lost an aunt and an uncle to it. I watched how it took a big man with thick, jet black hair and turn him into a frail, 90-lb, white-haired old man. I was young when it happened so it was shocking to me to see something like that. My aunt, his wife, died much later and didn’t have this shocking transition. At least not that I saw. She was just gone. Both were lifetime smokers.

My parents were both lifetime smokers as well but never got cancer. My mom got emphysema and coughed really bad and my dad had strokes for 7 years before dying. These all happened over 25 years ago. My uncle about 40 years ago. So it’s been a long time since I’ve had to deal with cancer and death.

I’ve never smoked a single cigarette in my life. I did breathe in the smoke for my first 18 years and have asthma as a result. Now I cough like I had been the smoker.

So I feel that life just isn’t fair, at least not to the good people. But then, who am I to judge what is fair? This is a deep question and I grapple with it. I have a difficult time finding an answer. Not sure there is an answer. Doesn’t stop me from wondering, pondering the great mysteries of this life.

God promises us that He gives life, that He loves us. John 10:10 says “The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.” This is a promise I cling to. Reading that verse now I realized that the meaning may very well be for the next life. That life may be in the next one, not this one. For those who don’t believe in or know God, this may sound strange or crazy. But God has filled me with His Spirit and saved my soul. This life was never promised to us as being fair. The next one will be.

Christ the Redeemer, Portuguese Cristo Redentor. Colossal statue of Jesus Christ at the summit of Mount Corcovado, Rio de Janeiro, southeastern Brazil. It was completed in 1931 and stands 98 feet tall, its horizontally outstretched arms spanning 92 feet.

Without Change, there would be no Butterflies

I am not a fan of change. Even when change is sorely needed. I like to know that tomorrow is known and will be pretty much the same as today. Oh, not the moment-to-moment events, but the overall ‘everything’ of life. I live where I live, same furniture and surroundings, have the same friends, etc. Everything will be familiar, not new and strange.

I like the sameness of every day in one place. Then all I have to do is change up the little things to brighten up each day. Go to lunch with a friend, visit a museum or park, just sit outside and breathe in fresh air while reading. Take a road trip to the ocean, it’s three hours away now. When I lived in California, it was only a mile away. I guess I took it for granted that I could jump in my car, drive down the road, and be walking on the beach in a matter of minutes. Now, it’s a planned excursion with difficult parking and a forced overnight stay.

Not that new and strange doesn’t have its own appeal. I’ve moved across country several times. The last move was from Santa Cruz, California to my current home in North Carolina. Why the move? Well, I work in high tech and when I got my degree in 1995, I was one of a kind. There just weren’t many designers out there with computer experience, experience in Photoshop, etc. Experience writing the code that built a website. And I was in demand. But once Photoshop became popular, savvy designers took classes and learned how to be more current in their skillset. So I suddenly found I had a lot of competition and, since I was in a bad work environment, I started looking for another job. But the nearest good ones were in San Francisco and that was just too much of a commute. Plus living expenses would be out of this world. Even more so today. This time, the change was going to have to be big. Really big.

So I looked for cities out of state. Somewhere there were a lot of tech jobs. New York was out of the question… too many people, too much cold and snow. Ugh. Raleigh, North Carolina and Austin, Texas came onto my radar. I knew no one in either place but a friend suddenly moved to Raleigh so my choice was made. I flew in for a few days and fell in love with all the green and the trees. And without a job prospect in sight, I rented an apartment sight unseen, packed my car with some belongings and my cat, and off we went to drive across the country to land in Raleigh on July 4, 2005… to what felt like 110° and 100% humidity. I stepped out of my car, instantly drenched, and thought, “what have I done?” I left beautiful, temperate Santa Cruz, California for this? Oh, man, big mistake. But I settled in, turned on the air, and made it home. Two weeks later I found a church to call home. A few months later I found a job. A few months after that I moved into a better apartment complex.

In the now, I miss California every day but I just want to have that home base that remains the same. In fact, I’m looking for a new place to call home, someplace permanent, forever, right now. At least in this life. Some new spot to settle in and make my own, to look around and feel like, yes, this is me and I feel safe here. I feel at home here.

I have made some amazing friends here. People I love and respect and enjoy spending time with. I miss my west-coast friends, but love the ones I have here as well. And my church is the best one I have ever attended. I fit in here pretty well. I’m more liberal than most people here but we find common ground enough to make friendships work. And work well.

I’ve realized that even though I miss California for its weather and ocean and lack of bugs and humidity, I can settle in here and call this place home. Took me 15 years to come to this but something changed in me along the way. Something has accepted that this is home now. That’s a good thing. I guess some change is good.

I have gone from caterpillar to butterfly several times in my life. I like this iteration a lot. Even though I’m semi-retired and self-employed, I’m doing more creative things than ever before and, overall, I’m happy. So maybe this is my last evolution for awhile. Right now, I’m enjoying being a butterfly.

When will it End?

Predictions just came out that up to 140,000 will die by July 4, 2020. Wow. My state is one of those with high levels of cases and deaths. I have asthma so I am overly cautious but this news makes me rethink my current actions and I will likely go back to where I was two months ago by staying away from everyone other than my roommates; and even staying a good distance from them as well. I am a believer, born-again Christian, Christ follower. I know where I’m going when I die. Not that I’m in any hurry to move on. That being said, this virus concerns me. Mostly because my affairs aren’t in order, which they should be. And because of the expense of a hospital stay if I get sick and survive. A hospital is the last place I want to be right now anyway. Am I right? And then there’s the matter of who will have to take care of property when I’m gone. No, I’m not being morbid, just trying to think rationally. Trust me, for a creative type like me, that can be difficult and take some crazy turns along the way.

So, where does that leave me? Wondering. Wondering where this virus is headed. When and if it will end. Will the virus mutate before someone finds a vaccine/cure? Will it kill another 100,000 before we are able to stop it? 200,000? Will one or more of my friends get sick? Will someone I care about die? Tough questions. Right now I just wish everyone would be more careful because you aren’t just playing Russian Roulette with your own life, you’re playing it with mine. And every person you come in contact with. And every person they come in contact with. And so on. Parents, grandparents, babies. Can that get through your thick skull? This self isolating is a short-term minor inconvenience. Yeah, it sucks. It’s a pain and it’s boring and it’s mind-numbingly making us all crazy.

But it’s the right thing to do and will save lives.

Will we head into November standing six feet apart in order to vote in a new president? I would risk it to vote for Joe Biden and rid the world of the stain currently residing in the WH. Will the racial tension ease while Trump is still in office? I doubt it. I worry that it won’t, hope that it will. But that is going to take a lot of time and effort. And if it does ease up, will that stop the forward progress we’re making because of the protests? I hope not. There is so much for us to be concerned about, to worry and agonize over, to pray for and wish for and demand. And remember the Me, Too movement? That’s still a thing. That is still on my mind. I hate to even mention it in case it makes it seem that I take racial injustice lightly. I do not. But blacks and women and the sick are all suffering right now, just to different degrees. This world needs a do over and we seem to be in the midst of a great change.

Black lives matter, kill Covid-19, Support Me, Too. In that order. That’s where my thoughts and prayers are aimed right now. In that order. Remember it.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The Golden Rule. I think I live by that most of the time. Sure I take missteps, am misunderstood, open my big mouth and say something without thinking. Most of us trip up once in awhile. But my heart, my intent, is to treat everyone with that same regard I’d like in return. Be colorblind. Be compassionate. Leave the world a little better than how I found it. Spread joy. Amen.

The Tipping Point

I woke up this morning after having slept like the dead. Which is a good thing because last night I was still awake at 3:30 and wondering why I was still horizontal. I could get up and vacuum. I could open my laptop and write something. I could grab my Kindle and read a few chapters, something I often do in the wee hours when I find myself as wide awake as I am at high noon. But no, nothing motivated me to move and do something, anything, other than to lie there and wonder…

Why were there so many people in charge who were only out for their own advancements instead of caring about the rest of us, which is what they were hired/elected/appointed for? Why do we allow it? Police have been mistreating blacks, men in particular, for decades, centuries, but it took watching a murder live in front of our eyes that really opened our eyes. It was the tipping point. It took something so heinous we couldn’t ignore it any longer and we revolted. Good. Finally. At last.

I’ve lived my life always having friends of every color. I’ve dated a black man, an hispanic man who was deaf, a monster I was lucky to escape from, a sweet, kind Asian guy, a missionary’s son, a co-worker once or twice. They were all the same… they were men. Just men. The male of the species. Two eyes, two hands, two legs. You get the picture. Human beings. Because, after all, I’m a human being as well. So I should hang out with other human beings. I don’t judge them for the bright pink dress shirt they wore one Sunday to church or the tattered jeans they couldn’t bear to throw away. Or the old stick-shift Rambler on it’s last legs they named Rita. I didn’t look away when their hair was a mess because they slept on it wrong and didn’t comb it before heading out the door. Okay, well, maybe I might have offered a comb… LOL. I didn’t laugh when one turned up with a bad sunburn, making him more red than white. And I didn’t judge them when their skin color was a beautiful golden shade or a deep shade of brown or a lighter shade of black. They were not their skin or their culture or their history… they were human beings and they were my friends. They were nice and I enjoyed their company. They were happy and funny and compassionate and caring.

Me, I’m white. A very pale shade of white. Brown hair, hazel eyes, pale white skin. I actually have about 18% Native American in me, though you can’t tell by looking at me. My dad is from South Dakota so I think it may be Sioux. I have a friend I adore who is black. Her ancestors came here from Nigeria. She is smart, happy, kind, and beautiful inside and out. I have great love for her. We bonded at work many years ago over a shared background and a love for God. I convinced her (pushed and hounded her) to go back to school to get her Masters degree. She’s brilliant and needed to do more with her life than being stuck in the dead-end job she was in. She finally did it and moved away to go to NYU. She graduated, met a man, married him, and now has two babies! I’m so proud of her. And I miss her. But when we talk or get together, it’s like no time has passed. And I’m happy my friend is happy. Then there’s a sweet, adorable black guy I used to work with and am still friends with. On Facebook we recently connected over this current racial crisis. He shared a heartbreaking memory from when he was a kid and a racist neighbor scared him about calling the police on him for no reason other than he was chasing the football that had gotten away from him in his game with his friends. I can never understand his pain, his perspective. But I can support him and understand that he has gone through things I never will. I can be a shoulder to lean on, so to speak, a sounding board who will always listen with an open mind and an open and caring heart.

I have white friends as well. And a Vietnamese guy who I also adore but haven’t seen in many years as he is 3,000 miles away. I have black friends, a Filipino friend, several gay friends, an Italian, two guys in India, a German, Muslims, Jews, Christians, brown hair, blonde, blue- or brown-eyed, bald, skinny, fat, old, young. My primary doctor, Anu, was born in India, came here at the age of two, and she is awesome. You get the idea. They are all just human beings. Yes, I see the color of their skin. It would be ludicrous to say otherwise since I’m not blind. What I will say is that skin color doesn’t play a role in how I feel about someone or how I treat them any more than whether or not they dye their hair or wear Hawaiian shirts or love dogs over cats. It just doesn’t come up. Although the dog over cat thing might be a dealbreaker. My worst, scariest experience with another human being was with a white male. So there you go.

What does play a role? How they treat me and others. What their standards are. Do they treat people in the service industry with the same respect they use with their managers at work or their professors or anyone else in authority? Do they treat women as well as they treat men? Do they talk well of others who are different or do they make snide remarks about (fill in the appropriate group name: black, women, gays, etc.). How do they treat animals when they think no one is watching. Do they treat women like sex objects, laugh at jokes when other men do this? Example: Did they laugh when Trump boasted that he could grab a woman by her private parts and get away with it? Or did they condemn him for that? Do they demean others or try to embarrass them to make themselves feel superior? Do they strive to make life better for others or look for ways to take what they can get no matter who it hurts? Do they look up to people of quality or people who will step on anyone on their way to the top? These are the tells I look for in a person.

“Hate fills up your heart with darkness and empties your soul.“

I would think being a racist or a misogynist would be exhausting. Hate is all about you, not the other person. Life is far too short to have hate in your heart. Hate fills up your heart with darkness and empties your soul. Let go of the hate, for all our sakes. Find something good to focus on. Go out and sit for a while in a park and just listen. Listen to the wind blowing through the trees, the birds singing their songs just for you. Look at the colors of nature, breathe in deeply and smell the flowers and grass. Close your eyes, tip back your head, and absorb some life-giving sunshine.

Right this minute, it is pouring rain outside my window. I love the rain! I love the sound of it, the smell of it, the clean air the day after. I love that today I don’t have to go water my tomato plants because nature has done it for me. Isn’t that something?! We are all the same just half a millimeter below the surface. Isn’t it something better than fear and anger and hate? Oh how I wish everyone could see with neutral eyes and heart. See the world as a whole, see the human race as one team, like the amazing Chicago Cubs who finally won the World Series after years of waiting. They were a team and they stuck together and finally, one day, they won the World Series. Took them a hundred years (seriously, 100 years! Look it up.) but they did it because they were all on the same team and so they worked together to achieve their goal. We, as humans, are all part of the same team, Team Earth. Team Terra. Team Human. It’s natural to have difficulties and disagreements. And there really are mentally ill sociopaths out there who are outside the realm of human existence as we know it. But those are the exceptions. Most of us are just normal, everyday humans who need to let go of petty beefs and discord and anger and tension. Let it go, you will feel so much better if you do. Care a little more about others than you care about yourself. If everyone did this, what a wonderful world this would be. Yeah, that’s right, I quoted a song. Thank you Louis Armstrong. A black man. A human being. A beautiful voice.

Finally, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. – Philippians 4:8