The World is Good Whether We See it or Not

Precursor to the following blog: I was challenged by my friend Pyper to write a blog a week for 2012. I have accepted the challenge however; make no promises or guarantees that even a small percentage will be noteworthy.  For you Pyper my friend – I’ll do my best. 2012

episode 1 – The World is Good. The World is Very Good.

 The New Year always makes me giddy. Maybe it’s the lingering buzz from the holiday season. Maybe it’s the symbolic nature of starting afresh. A wiping of the slate proffered up by the God’s as it were.  Maybe it’s just the opportunity coughexcusecough to continue the celebration.  Perhaps, and most likely in my case, it’s that damn chant that’s always running through my head. “Seeing is not believing. Believing is seeing.” I always have high expectations for the New Year and I am seldom disappointed. So, this year began with an (so far) extremely mild winter which makes this scribbler extremely happy. It was foretold though, by yours truly.

When we bought our home, we had been living in the city. We had no need of large tires, heavy snow shovels or plugged in machinations for moving snow. Hence the double dose of cabin fever we suffered when we got snowed in, not once but twice. Red spots and all. We learned our lesson. I do not look good in cabin fever. So, we bought a snow shovel and traded in our teeny, tiny car for one with enough clearance to not rub bellies with 3 inches of snow.  So there you have it. We are now prepared for snow and ice. And it’s 60 degrees in January.  (She says with a huge smile on her face. No red spots, none at all)

 I have been counting my blessings and tweaking my resolutions. I get to go to some phenomenal training this week. I was chosen along with 9 others to go and I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I got a great teaching schedule for February. My friend got a badly needed NEW LIVER! (The world is good. The world is very good.) Mr. Scribbler and I managed to survive the holidays with our new healthy lifestyles still intact and continue to grow stronger both in health and will. I have a brand new and amazing management team at work that promises to continue our growth there as well.  And, I found - or perhaps rediscovered is a better word – a new hero today.

As I was sitting on the sofa watching Twilight Zone and going over my notes for the upcoming trip I got a text message from my 28 year old, married daughter.  She is the mommy to my 7 year old and 4 year old grandsons.  All it said was, “As of today, I am no longer driving. Doc says my peripheral vision is so bad I’m legally blind.” It’s no longer safe for her drive. Sarah, my first, only and favorite daughter has Retinitis Pigmentosa. It is essentially a fancy word for damaged retinas. It causes tunnel vision, night blindness, and eventually, color and sharpness can be affected. You can read more about here if you’re interested. http://www.blindness.org/index.php?option=com_content&id=50&...

 Anyway, as I was sitting there celebrating all that I am so thankful for, my immediate reaction was heartbreak. What more do we want for our children than full, happy, healthful lives? I had visions of her stroking her children’s faces to “see” them. Turning an ear toward the door rather than looking when her wonderful husband walks in. I got a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I asked a few questions and finally, “How are you? Are you ok?” Her response filled me with pride, gratitude and a tremendous sense of relief.

The conversation follows: Sarah: “Yes. I’m fine with it actually. Paul said I’m taking it extremely well. At least I now know that it’s unsafe for me to drive and I need to find other avenues. I can work that out.” (We've been thinking the same thing since the day she got her learner’s permit) Me: “That’s my girl :c) Love you.” Sarah: “Love you too. Glass half full, right?” Me:“Yep. It could always be worse.” Sarah: “Exactly.”

 I still have that lump in my throat, and my eyes are still a bit damp. But my daughter with the lovely, vibrant blue eyes has reminded me again that perspective and attitude is everything. For a short moment my heart was breaking. Now, it’s so full it may burst anyway. Yes, I have much to be thankful for and I’m fairly certain that I don’t deserve half of it. So my biggest resolution for 2012 – right behind the blog a week for Pyper – is to pay it forward. I’m going to earn all the goodness and all the heroes in my life. And, thank you Sarah, for reminding me that when I die, I will have done what I set out to do; to leave the world just a bit better than I found it. I had you.

 So come on 2012. Bring it on!

another non-blog - and a wee story about a wee dog and it's wee

another non-blog - and a wee story about a wee dog and it's wee. It's finally getting cold and i suddenly remember what I don't like about winter. Cold is painful. My muscles object and retaliate with a lack of cooperation. The wind is making its music tonight, as it lowers it's shoulder and forces its way through the thick trees and brush. And the starless sky is black as pitch. Too cold even for the stars, perhaps. And here i sit with my trusted friend, tapping on its keys while pondering the great design and enjoying the warmth of my Betty Boop snuggi. (You KNOW you want one. It's ok to covet this once.) It's funny how nights like these, quiet and dark, make me so contemplative. I find i can imagine quite easily whatever comes to mind. The latest news, of the new planet, the Earth's twin, has me all aflutter. One of the girls at work has decided that when the world ends in 2012, "God is going to take all the good people to the new earth and leave all the bad ones here to burn." Really. she said that today. Which of course led me to questions how anyone can believe in an all knowing, all omnipotent God, who created his children imperfectly and then punishes them - for all eternity no less - for being imperfect. Which of course, led me to ponder imperfection. Who decides what's perfect and what isn't anyway? Does a bit of chocolate tastes sweeter if it's perfectly formed? Are people less worthy because someone somewhere decided noses should be small and breasts should be big? Ask anyone who has ever rescued a mutt or runt of a litter if what someone else deemed as imperfect didn't make the most appreciated, loving and constant companion. Which reminds me; another one of my co-workers breeds some kind of dog that I can't remember now. She sells them for $850.00 each. She told me that if I wanted one and I let her know in time, I could come over and bottle feed the pup to build the bonding experience. She assured me that I could look anywhere on the internet and I wouldn't find the same breed for less and all the money went to keeping her son in private school. When I explained that most of my pets find me she was confused. How do you explain that to a person? Which got me to thinking; One of my rescues, many years ago, was a couple of St. Bernard's. They weren't fierce enough to protect themselves from the other more viscous and savage animals on the farm they lived on. And true enough, they were the most lovable and sweet natured dogs. What I found to be interesting though was that they were so lacking in will that they couldn't protect themselves, but let them think that I was in danger and they suddenly became so fierce they were frightening. I would have to walk them one at a time. The male would step in front of me and stand sideways at every street crossing and he would look every stranger up and down like a mother looking over her son's latest squeeze. People often say taking dogs out is a great way to meet people. Not with my dogs. I can't think about dogs without remembering one of my clients. He was a man, who wanted to be a lesbian. He was always dressed like a woman, albeit one you might see in a vintage Sears catalog. Chiffon dresses, woven hats, floral purses with shoes to match. And he never went anywhere without his wee dog. He was in one day wanting suggestions for his hair. The dog wee'd in the corner of my station. I couldn't concentrate on his hair knowing about the wee on the floor so I had to stop so we could clean up first. He said, "It'll keep till we're done." I said, "I know it's just a little wee from a wee dog. It'll only take a wee moment to clean it up." He said, "Ill wait". I said, "No, I'll wait. YOU"LL clean". He never came back. A car has just gone by and broken my reverie. I guess I'm done. Sweet dreams

No blog here...just some random thoughts

One of my clients told me today that her daughter, who is now a college student announced at the height of intellectual capacity,(17 yrs for those of you who don't have children) announced that she had in fact decided on her life's mission. She wanted to be a sex therapist. Since I had not made one single inappropriate comment all day, and I was working on my last client of the day, and that's clearly against my principles, I asked, "Is she a 'hands on' kind of gal?". My client, fortunately has a sense of humor. Apparently I misunderstood what she meant. The kidlet wanted to counsel people with sexual issues. That is until she found out her patients might include child molesters, et al. She's changed her mind and is not studying clinical psychology. Christine: DANA! WHY do you have all the brooms over here? Dana: Might wanna take a trip. Christine: But do you need ALL of them? Dana: Might be a long trip. Christine: No response but she made that face. We have somewhere around 18-20 life sized animatronic halloween props. They never go away. They line the walls of the basement which is entirely appropriate as we have a 60" big screen and we watch almost exclusively, scary movies on it. Anyway, many of them are motion or sound activated. Mr. Scribbler turned them all off because the bug guy was coming. So, this big, burly, manly kind of man (said with mock deep voice and appropriate inflections) goes downstairs to rescue us from an annoying ladybug/salamander problem. We were sitting at the breakfast bar waiting for the guy to finish his bu exorcism ritual, when a headless bride, or perhaps a caldron stirring witch tried to make him feel at home. We immediately hear a scamper and what sounded like the Patriot's offensive line running up the uncarpeted stairs. The bug bursts through door, almost losing his footing and gallantly announces, "Okey dokey! All done!". Mr. Scribbler and I manage to hold in our hysteria until the pale faced and startled bug guy left the house. Guess we coulda' warned the poor guy. I attended a workshop recently with four "celebrities". I didn't know a single one. Babak, a fashion photographer, Fateemah, a hairdresser who won Shear Genius, Mondo, a fashion designer and Yoanna House, who won America's Top Model, season 2. Here's a few of the quotes I kept because I thought they were funny. "I KNOW you guys are down there thinking 'OH MY GOD I'm Magic!" "I know I'm great, and do amazing hair, and fabulous and all, but there really is a place for humility." "I'm hoping one of you guys takes this and does something wonderful with it and makes me famous. Oops! I already am!" "It's sooo awesome! I just get to stand up here and be myself and everybody LOVES me!" Well, not everybody. One of my clients brought me a blog she wrote and asked me to read it. She then asked if I had any she could read. Um, sure. Ok. So, her blog was written about her cat. In first person. Or, first cat as it were. Full of little cutesy phrases like, "I had a purrfectly good home..." and "It gave me paws..." She sat there intently waiting for me to giver her a response. The only thing that immedeiatley came to mind that wouldn't put me over my daily quota for inappropriate comments was "cuuuuuuute". Then, she read mine, And critiqued it. For the entire 45 minutes it took me to do her hair. Line by line. I've decided I don't like unsolicited criticism. I hope that doesn't affect my future as a writer. Blogging is not dead...BLOOGING is not dead...Blogging is NOT dead...Blogging is not DEAD...Blogging is not dead...

The Challenge

Thought I'd share a few questions I was asked back in the old days of LiveVideo. My answers follow. If you feel so inclined, your responses would be most welcome. Q. Show and Act of Love A. I kissed my husband. I didn’t repeat something I overheard. I bought lunch for a friend. I laughed at a joke. I wrote a blog. Q. What is most important to you? A. To be worthy of the love I receive. Q. What do you want to be remembered for? A. That I took the road less traveled; Found beauty in simple things; felt genuine gratitude; shared freely, laughed often and experienced true joy; that I have loved truly, deeply, without reservation or qualification; That I lived well. Your turn…

Flip Chart (((hugs))) and brain beating

I teach when I'm not behind the chair and hairdressers can be funny. And fickle. And fussy. BUT, they can also incredibly talented, right brained and overwhelmingly generous. Some of them think of education as something they have to do because someone else has told them they have to. Others see it as a way to grow, and still others use to to show off. I never really care why they are there. I always tell them that I came prepared but their learning is their responsibility and if they walk away at the end of the day with nothing they can use, it's because they chose not to put anything into the time investment. Sometimes they get it, sometimes they don't.

 I use a lot of tools to present the information several different ways to accomadate all the different learning styles and I can tell a pretty good joke when I want so for the most part, people learn if the want to, and if they don't, well - they don't. Anyway, I use music - Get Down On It by Kool and the Gang is my favorite opener; I use flip charts - both fruit smelling markers and the kind that get you high available in a large array of colors (in case someone wants to help with the visuals); I hand out surprises to people to contribute, volunteer first, ask great questions, etc.; We play games, take personality quizzes, share chocolate and other treats, and believe it or not, we actually get around to doing some hair. I share true accounts of personal experience behind the chair and invite my attendees to share theirs as well.

And, I share quotes. A great quote can paint a picture, motivate, educate, inspire and explain. They're like modern day parables only they're usualy true however cleverly worded. Twitter-esque pearls to illuminate or entertain; Flip chart (((hugs))) for the short attention span, often the only thing some will remember from their day of brain beating.

 So, here's a few of my favorite quotes. They may not teach you how to do hair, but who knows? Maybe one will inspire YOU!

 "Change is the essence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become." Wolfgang Riebe

 "Learning and innovation go hand in hand. The arrogance of success is to think that what you did yesterday will be sufficient for tomorrow." William Pollard Moral to this story? Learning and growth is a lifelong pursuit. We all have plenty to learn and plenty to share.

 "To succeed in life you need three things. A wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone." Reba McIntyre

 "Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion. You must set yourself on fire." Reggie Leach

 "How you choose to deal with the things that bug you set you apart just as much as how you approach your business, your art and your life." dana

 "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." Mahatma Gandhi

 "Be yourself. Everyone else is taken." unknown

 "I find it helps to organize chores into categories: 1. Things I won't do now. 2. Things I won't do later. 3. Things I won't do ever. " Bugs Bunny (dunno who Bugs stole it from though) 

And perhaps my all time fave:

 "If at first you do succeed, try not to look so bloody suprised." Robert Cromeans

 Cheers

Shopping for Leftovers

One of the many things my dad and I shared was a genuine love of food. We loved to cook, eat, buy, share, create, and eat some more food. One of his famous creations was what he called Enchilada stacks. he came up with the idea in the '70's. I have since seen variations but he was just playing around in the kitchen one day and came up with it. I walked into the kitchen and found him there, eyes closed, that familiar look of nirvana on his face. "Try THIS!" "What is it?" I didn't quite trust him. "TRY it! it's Lasagna, only it's made out of stuff for enchilada's! You LOVE enchiladas! TRRRRRYYYYYY IT!" "Does it have broccoli, cauliflower or zucchini in it?" (We lived in California. EVERYTHING had broccoli, cauliflower or zuchini it it.) "Hell NO! THIS is GOOD!" I tried it. Then we stood there together with that nirvana-esque look on our faces. It became one of his most requested dishes when we had or attended parties. He was also very adept at BBQ. And I don't mean the kind where they smoke the meat and then give you a generic ketchup bottle with brownish red liquid in it. I mean the honest to goodness, boiled, then baked, then braised BBQ that took all day, sometimes 2 to make. The kind that the meat falls off the bone and chews itself, travels all the way to your elbows BBQ. He would always set a pan aside and hide it so he and i could enjoy it together later with a couple of cobbs and some diet root beer. We drank DIET root beer so we could have an extra cobb of corn. (I know. That explains the repentent and exclusionary culinary abyss in which I find myself today.) The grocery store was always an adventure too. We came up with the some of the most wonderful ideas about all kinds of things, including food, while we strolled the produce, perused the spices. I have the curious habit of adding up my groceries in my head as I shop. Once we were going up and down every aisle at Kroger. We had a list but when we shopped together, we would each throw in an item or 3 from each aisle as we saw fit. So, our list of 20 items would end up being more like an entire basket and we'd wonder how that always happened. I was reading the labels comparing between two items and when I finally decided on the Raspberry Vinaigrette over the Balsamic, i mentioned we were up to about $64.00 Dad looked at me and made this face. "What?" "Nothing." "That face doesn't mean nothing. WHAT" "REALLY. Nothing." I contmeplated for a moment. "You don't count do you?" "no" He says. "Well, then how do you know where you're done?" (As a single parent, I was always on a tight budget. I had this horrible fear that one day I would be at the check out and not have enough money to pay.) "I'm done when you have what you need." I pointed out that we were, in fact, buying HIS groceries. "I know Sugar. But we're buying YOUR leftovers. " I loved that man.

Socks with Sandals? I don't THINK so!

My dad was a bit of a prankster and he loved a good joke. Most of the jokes he told aren't appropriate in polite company. He was, after all, a sailor. But he was always up to something. One day, he came home from work, and as was his custom, went straight to his room to change his clothes. I didn't think much of it because he always did that. After a bit, my mom followed him and then a couple minutes longer, I was summoned.  As I walked down the hall, I could hear my mom grousing but I didn't know about what and I was pretty sure I was in trouble for something. As I peeked into the room there was my dad. My mom was standing near the door with her mouth covered so she wouldn't laugh - My dad, on the other side of the room, was wearing his brand new Navy Issue, FREE, black plastic prescription glasses. The square ones that everyone wore. He was also wearing his t-shirt, wrong side out and backwards, a pair of gray sweat pants with a pair of VERY short jogging shorts OVER the sweat pants. To complete the ensemble, he was wearing some sandals with his Navy Issue Black socks.  I stood there for a moment taking it all in when he said - "Wanna go out to eat? I got all dressed up for ya'." I stood there for another moment trying to determine whether he was kidding or not and then said, "No." I was as straight faced as he was - for about 3 seconds. Then, I couldn't hold it in any longer and Mom and I both just blew! I was laughing so hard I was crying.  As it turns out, he had done a bit of shopping on the way home, stopped to pick up his new glasses and just decided to show me what he bought, much like I did whenever I got something new.  Whenever we went shopping for school clothes or supplies or did any Christmas shopping or whatever, the first thing I would do would be to remove each treasure from the bag and show him. More often than not, if he was home and not gallivanting around the world on a ship, he would just go with us for the shopping. I think it was probably less painful than having to sit through the unveiling when we got home. Q. How many pencil cases, lunch boxes and backpacks can you get excited about anyway?   A. All of them.

Sailors and ships and movies and promises

We went to see the movie Battleship. It has several actors I enjoy, it's science fiction, it has sailors and aliens. What's not to enjoy? I liked Cowboys and Aliens too. Sue me. For those of you who have been following my blog for a moment, you know that my dad, my hero and my buddy, was lost to me on February 15th, 2012. I have written several blogs that I have not been able to share with you yet, but as promised, when enough time has passed, I will. Back to the movie. I won't spoil it for anyone that wants to see it but the previews show a bunch of sailors doing sailor-y things. They show destroyers aircraft carriers, jets and helicoptors. You see aerial views of the ships, and views from the bridge. I love Navy movies. I love seeing sailors doing sailor-y things. Even if the sailor-y things are the trouble they get into during shore leave or the mundane things they do during drills. My dad used to tell me stories. Like the one where a guy not where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there ended up getting sucked into the engine of a jet on the flight deck. I was pretty young when he told me that story. "How did he get out of the engine?" He just hugged me and promised that he would "...always be where I'm supposed to be when I'm supposed to be there..." He made me lots of promises like that. I always believed him and he always kept his promises. He spent many years on aircraft carriers. He loved ship life. He said once that if he didn't have a family at home, he would volunteer to stay on the ship all the time." I always hoped that none of us would ever do anything to make him want to stay on the ship and we never did. On more than one occasion, we got to tour his ships and we'd eat in the Chief's mess hall onboard. Dad always went on about how much better the food in the Chief's mess hall was. Even better than the Officer's. I didn't disagree although I never ate anywhere else on the ship and had nothing else to compare. In the movie, they honor a dozen or so retired military personnel. They were old men, with a drag in their steps, and crackels in their voices. You could see time in their faces. They looked like old men until they put on their uniforms. Their steps quickened, backs straightened. And you could see the pride in their faces. It was just a movie, but pride and strength and resolve comes with the uniform. At one point in the move, the group of retirees were walking together on the deck of their ship. I could almost see the American flag waving behind them and their families waving from the docks. I got a lump in my throat and my eyes began that burning that I have become acustomed to at the most inappropriate times. I saw my dad standing there in his uniform. Proud, strong and resolved. Never doubting for a moment the honor it was to serve his homeland; to protect his family. His military career lasted 22 years but it defined him till the day he died. His family came first, his country came second. I asked him once what he would have done if he hadn't become a sailor. The thought was almost absurd. I don't remember what he told me but I suspect he would have found a way to serve his family and his country one way or another. He would have lived and died with honor, and the respect and love of everyone who knew him. And he still would have been my hero and my buddy.

midnight churnings

Hello, I have several blogs written that I haven't posted yet. I have been writing. I will post them. I just have to chew on them a bit. I will say that the journaling of memories of my beloved father has been a bit of comfort. I find myself feeling somewhat normal during the day and when I'm busy. But at night, when all is still, it's something else. I have stopped the shedding of daily tears. I can talk about him without that tightness and lack of air. But at night...that's something else entirely. My friend asked me today, "when are you going to allow yourself to mourn?" What? You mean there's more? Strange dreams, restless sleep, a constant gnawing that I have forgotten something? Where has my "normal" gone? I left the water running at work today. I walked out of the dispensary. Several people were there. I felt their eyes on me and I stopped. When I turned to find out why all had gone quiet - odd thing for a bunch of hair dressers - when I noticed the water. I went back, turned it off, and left the room. They all think I was just so busy, or had something on my mind. A couple of them asked me. "What's going on? You seem a little off lately." Oh? hmmm...I hadn't noticed. It's not like I am constantly thinking about my dad's passing. Leaving me here to fend for myself with my mother. My mother and my son, incidentally, had a falling out the day after the funeral. There will be no reconciliation. The words exchanged were more hurtful than usual. That weighs heavy on me. It would break Papa's heart. He loved his family very much. Even those that made love a difficult task. Strange that I felt the need to come share here in the wee hours with you tonight. I don't do so easily or elsewhere. I have managed to turn on the waterworks again, for the first time in several weeks, so I will close now. Thanks for listening.