Writer's Block

Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It's been 6 weeks since my last blog entry...
Perhaps that is a good thing for some of you but enough have asked where I've been that I felt it was time to post something, anything, just to prove that I'm still alive and have not abandoned my blog.
The truth is, I've felt completely and totally uninspired lately!

My winter in Florida has been filled with visiting family, house guests, an apparent lizard invasion in the back yard, spraying weekly for cockroaches, thrice daily walks with my dogs (Boomer is now completely house broken), bad golf with extremely nice people who just happen to play to a 40 handicap and a family medical emergency that caused great concern.

The weather has been idyllic!
I've enjoyed many hours of pool time and have a great tan. I've read a couple of good books, (loved The Help by Kathryn Stockett!) learned how to program our automatic sprinkler system, restore the pool to a swimmable condition after a raccoon shit in it, learned which fertilizers are best for palm trees, how to identify poisonous toads and I pummeled a snake with that brand new shovel I purchased because I just knew it would come in handy one day. I've also become familiar with the care and pruning needs of the beautiful plants and trees in our yard.
But I'm suddenly overcome with the overwhelming feeling that it's time to return home.
I'm really missing my very busy husband and adult children.
I'm missing happy hours with my terrific Boulder neighbors.
I'm missing dinner with good friends.
I'm missing manicures with Molly.
I'm missing lunch with Collin.
I'm missing breakfast with Billy.
I'm missing the highly educated, inspiring, tolerant, intelligent and invigorating community that is Boulder!
I won't miss the redneck rube neighbor to the south who hacked away at our sable palm and dropped the fronds on our new plants. Without permission. He never apologized. Yes, we had words.
I won't miss the anal retentive asshole neighbor to the north who comes home every night from work and inspects our property line to see if our sweet lawn care guy disturbed a blade of his grass. We also talked. And I wonder how he lives in a world with so many God damned people in it! Miserable, angry man!
I think I feel very sorry for his wife.
I won't miss the crazy drivers who weave in and out of traffic at well over the speed limit on a five lane highway never using their signal. There's a reason I-95 has been designated the number one death trap highway in the US.
I won't miss the assholes who feel it's their God given right to sit on their car horn the second a light changes to green because the poor old guy in front can't put the pedal to the metal as fast as they can.
And I won't miss the disproportionate number of horrific crimes committed against children in the state of Florida. What's wrong with people down here?
I will miss my wonderful sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews and in-laws who reside here.
I'll miss our dinner parties and cookouts. I'll miss the birthday celebrations and impromptu happy hours.
I'll miss the Palm Beach Post - our great local daily newspaper, delivered to my door each morning. I really love a good newspaper!
I'll miss watching my beloved dogs enjoying the south Florida sunshine, the beaches, our many walks and lounging in the sun by their pool.
But it's time to go.
I'm packing a little bit each day and purging the fridge.
I'll be hitting the road next Saturday with one of my dear brothers along for the ride.
Road Trip!
Hello Boulder!
We're coming home!


"Close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself, there's no place like home."
-The Wizard of Oz

Sports and Sympathy

Watching Tiger struggle to tame the Big Blue Monster that is Doral made me almost (I said, 'almost') feel sorry for him. He finished the week with a strong 66 but was nowhere near contention and hasn't won a tournament since before his Thanksgiving 2009 fender bender erupted into an embarrassing and painful sex scandal of epic proportions.
It appears he's paid a terribly high price for his indiscretions - one that may end up being a life sentence.
He's lost his family, sponsors and friends.
He's lost the respect and admiration of millions of fans worldwide and perhaps even worse, that of his colleagues in the PGA. Talk about tough playing conditions!
It's beginning to occur to me that he may never get his game back - despite the swing changes he's trying to incorporate into his game.
I'll never understand that of course. I've always been of the "If it's not broken don't fix it" persuasion. Prior to his scandal, he was at the top of his game and the guy to beat.
Today, he's a beaten man but he shouldn't blame it on his swing.
After too much thinking with his little head, it's what's in his big head that ails him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm looking forward to March Madness despite
the unbelievable snub of my Colorado Buffaloes.

Now, in addition to dropping BCS from my alphabet, I'm also dropping RPI.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And finally, the devastation in Japan is mind boggling and the horrific images coming from the region have shaken me to the core. The nuclear threat is real - very real. But as frightening as that is, this disaster like all those that have come before it, will serve to teach us to be better prepared the next time. I've no doubt that those in the know are looking seriously at what went wrong at the damaged nuclear facilities and are already working on ways to prevent such damage in the future.
Today I'm making a donation to the Red Cross.
www.redcross.org
It's a fine organization, ever present in the face of disaster and able to help so many.
If you don't like the Red Cross, consider donating to another relief organization.
Our Japanese friends need it.

日本の人々に：
私の考え及び祈りはあなたと一緒にあります。


(To the people of Japan:
My thoughts and prayers are with you)

Facebook vs Face Time: I'll Take The Latter

Unless you've been living on another planet, you've no doubt heard about this little thing called Facebook. More than likely, you're a participant because last I heard, there were over 500 million of us, 70% of whom reside outside the US.

I joined at the urging of an old classmate just prior to my 40th high school reunion and though I've never looked back, I admit to having a Love/Hate relationship with what is certainly an amazing venue.

For several months leading up to that reunion - my first ever - I was able to connect with roughly 200 old classmates and friends, the majority of whom I hadn't seen nor spoken to in all those 40 years.

Following high school, not only did I move away, but my family (parents, five younger brothers and sisters) left New York and moved to Florida. The home I grew up in was now occupied by another family and what connections I had retained, were scattered throughout the country.

I later married, moved to Colorado and eventually lost touch completely with anyone from my home town.

Facebook changed all that and nervous as I was about attending my first reunion, I walked into a room full of friends and familiar faces thanks to the connections made via Facebook.

Though I had not seen any of these people in 40 years (and let's get real - most of us have changed drastically in four decades) I immediately recognized everyone who had a Facebook account thanks to recent pictures they had posted. There were, of course, a few who looked exactly the same or better and I'll be honest here: I was jealous!

One former fellow cheerleader wore her high school cheerleading outfit to the Friday night meet and greet. Damn, she looked fabulous. And why not? She's a pilates instructor and gets paid to have a body like that.  Now, if someone were willing to pay me to...oh, wait...never mind...

Via Facebook I had learned who was married, divorced or widowed. I knew where they went to college, where they lived now or had travelled to, what they did for a living, how many children and grandchildren they had. I even knew all about their beloved pets.

Because of Facebook, I was able to attend an event with people I hadn't seen in four decades and probably knew more about them and their lives than I did while we were in high school!

Facebook became communication central for the reunion committee and word spread fast. It was, according to those who've attended all past reunions, the most well attended and best reunion to date. There were no awkward moments prior to the alcohol kicking in. It was instant party. Facebook deserves much of the credit and I'll continue to enjoy the many renewed connections I've made.

But Facebook should never be a substitute for Face Time.

At the start of my Facebook experience I was accepting or making friend requests on an almost daily basis, the majority of whom were those old classmates, scattered around the world, eager to reconnect prior to our reunion.

As word spread and more and more people dropped their fear of social networking and joined, I began to get those requests from many of my friends who lived locally. I readily accepted but didn't really see the need when they lived in the same town or nearby and we could see each other any time we so desired. I was still in the midst of the learning curve made ever more challenging by the fact that Facebook continually changed their format and settings, but soon learned about the block, hide and de-friend options and admit to de-friending a few people I probably shouldn't have. Not PC I'm told but I was still trying to figure it all out.

After our reunion, when the flurry of communication subsided, I started to take inventory of the contacts I had amassed and began the process of trying to figure out exactly how I would use Facebook in the future.
At the same time, I began the process of hiding all those game posts and such that appeared on the Live Feed wall, (apologies to those who play but those of us who don't, find it annoying) along with all those inane posts from the political extremists, whiners, complainers and attention whores.

With the exception of those few who travel extensively or leave Boulder for extended periods of time, I scoured my friends list looking for those locals I could eliminate because we surely didn't need Facebook to connect if we lived in the same town. We all have phones we can use to call, and coffee shops, restaurants and homes we can gather in. It seemed to me that the whole point of it was to connect with those living far away, out of state or out of the country.
There is so much lost when one chooses to communicate through text, twitter, email and Facebook.
Gone is one's ability to hear voice inflections, read body language, catch that smile, smirk or raised eyebrow.
I toy constantly with the idea of deactivating my Facebook account but then something will happen that makes me rethink that option such as the posting of a picture of my brother and his first grandson mere minutes after his birth. That is the real reason I'll probably have to stay on Facebook.
Like it or not, Facebook is here to stay.

As for my relationships with anyone living close enough to meet for a cup of coffee?
I prefer to do just that. I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. I want to watch you laugh, roll your eyes, grimace in disgust, cringe, toss your hair, smile.
I want to hug when we meet or say our goodbye.
I want to connect on a personal rather than virtual level.
Hike on Monday?
Golf Tuesday?
Lunch on Wednesday?
Coffee on Thursday?
Dinner on Friday?
We live in the same town.
Am I really your friend?
Are you mine?
Let's pick up the phone.
Let's make a date.
Let's prove it.

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.
Albert Schweitzer

60 is the new 40...right?

You know you're getting old when you start referring to your time on earth in decades rather than years.

In hindsight, my 30th birthday was not the time of mourning everyone had made it out to be. I came of age at a time when none of my peers trusted anyone over 30.

But having just separated from my first husband, I viewed turning 30 as a beginning rather than an end. I had two beautiful children I absolutely adored and was full of high hopes. I stepped out of the stay-at-home-mommy box and quickly found a job I liked that almost paid my bills.

I began living life as a single mother and learned to deal with the ramifications of a divorce, especially as it affected my children though it was not easy and I would never wish it on anybody. But this was the choice I made and I was determined to make the best of it.

When my 40's rolled around, I found myself happily remarried with a lovely home and another beautiful daughter. I was sure life couldn't get any better. 

I stepped back into the stay-at-home-mommy box but loved every minute of it. I took up golf, learned how to email, became a serial volunteer and was able to oversee a few remodeling projects on our home.

As the kids grew, so did I.

And I'll never understand why all those 50th birthday decorations are black because I certainly didn't see a funeral in my future. 50 was great! I loved my 50's! The last decade has been perhaps the best of my life! 

It was during my 50's that we celebrated graduations from high school, college and grad school. My son enlisted in the US Navy, married, left for two wartime deployments, was honorably discharged, returned home but later divorced. I was not unfamiliar with the challenges of a "too young" marriage and though sad, was not surprised.

Two of them left Colorado for several years but returned, and family celebrations became whole again.

Jim and I were happy and began to plan for and talk of his future retirement. We played golf together and with our many friends and my handicap dropped significantly. I even beat him on occasion!

He bought me my first digital camera as an anniversary gift and with more time on my hands, I embraced this new technology. I gave away or donated all my old film cameras. There was a learning curve but I finally got it! 

In a brief moment of insanity I thought of doing this professionally but almost immediately realized that I detested those pesky business details and preferred to use what little talent I had as a gift to others. 

Jim, who had illusions of my bringing in a second income, was less than thrilled but as usual (God love him) accepted the reality that I was not going to become the next Annie Leibovitz!

My favorite project to date? 

Photographing high school seniors in The I Have A Dream Foundation of Boulder County program and providing them with senior portraits and a picture CD for their high school yearbook. 

For the kids who were not even sure where they'd find the money to pay for their cap and gown, the gift of beautiful senior portraits was more than they'd ever hoped for. Talk about feeling appreciated! Wow!

I'd found my niche and realized this is what I was meant to do with my photography.

Yup! Loved my 50's! Best decade ever! Life is good!

But as my 60th loomed, I realized it wasn't going to be as easy as those previous milestone birthdays that had a zero in it.

I wouldn't say I was depressed, but there was an inexplicable feeling of dread at the thought of turning 60 and it rather surprised me.

I had survived the sixties and was now turning 60. Holy crap!

I cannot say what the next decade has in store for me but no sooner had I started to type this entry, I received an email from a friend in Colorado who lost two sisters, one 66 and the other 62, within two days. Upon learning of the death of her older sister, the younger of the two had a massive heart attack and died. One funeral took place today and the other is scheduled for Tuesday.
I just called and my heart is breaking for them.
60?
No problem!
I think I'm just happy to be here!

Do not regret growing older.  It is a privilege denied to many.  
~Author Unknown

You Never Get A Second Chance to Make a First Impression

I've been telling my now adult children for years: "You never get a second chance to make a first impression".
It's one of many life lessons I may or may not have remembered to teach them but they've certainly heard this at least a hundred times.
While I firmly believe in second, sometimes even third chances, it's that first impression thing I felt so strongly about and wanted to drill into them.
It can make or break a relationship, a future and a memory.

And it's a quote I just repeated to a sweet-voiced receptionist at a Jupiter, Florida veterinary office that also provides grooming services, who called to offer me a FREE GROOM for my 5 month old pup Boomer.
She explained that she wasn't in on Wednesday so didn't know the reason behind the doctor's request that she call me with the offer (yeah, right) which I promptly refused.
"Not interested", I said. "Would you like to know why?"
"Yes, actually", she replied.
I'd scheduled an appointment the week before for Boomer to be groomed and both dogs needed their Leptospirosis vaccinations. Abby had also started shaking her head excessively and was scratching at her ear so I wanted the vet to examine her.
Admittedly, I didn't do a ton of research on the office but they had a decent looking website and the dozen or so reviews I was able to find were all rave.
I had already made the conscious decision not to use the vet my Florida family has been using for a variety of reasons that I won't go into here.
I arrived promptly at 9:00 am with both dogs, checked in and then sat there for about 30 minutes as several other customers arrived. Two dogs that arrived were there to see the vet, the others were all there for grooming.
I soon learned that the practice had just been sold and the vet and many of the staff were new. It was chaotic and the receptionist appeared to have no idea what was going on.
The five dogs scheduled for grooming services who arrived after us, were greeted by the groomer who spoke with their owners and then escorted the dogs to the back. Four were scheduled for baths and one for a bath and full groom.
Boomer, Abby and I continued to sit there, feeling invisible.
Finally, the groomer returned, gushed about how adorable Boomer was, asked what I wanted done for him (bath, brush, nails and minor trim around his face, ears and paws), told me to return at 3:00 and as she carried him to the back promised to call if he was done earlier.
I was then escorted to the exam room where Abby was checked out by the vet, diagnosed with a yeast infection in her ears, given ear wash and drops we were to use for two weeks and given her Lepto shot. He was nice enough and seemed to be thorough. I paid Abby's bill and we left.
I busied myself for the rest of the day before returning to the office at 3:00 to pick up Boomer.
I'd been nervous leaving him so long. He's so young and it was only his second visit to a groomer, the first being to the wonderful shop in Boulder I've been taking our dogs to for the last 12 years or so.
But I've never had to leave a dog for more than 4 hours. I thought 6 was excessive, especially for a pup.
The woman at the reception desk that morning was not at the desk when I returned but the friendly vet tech who assisted with Abby earlier, was. She winced when she informed me that Boomer was not ready yet.
When I asked how much longer it would be she said, "Let me check" and called to the back.
When she got off the phone, she asked if I could come back in two hours, at 5:00.
"No,"  I said. "I've got to be somewhere at 5:00."
Then I asked if he'd at least been bathed, thinking I could just take him as is and not worry about the nails and trim.
"No," she said, and my jaw dropped.
My face must have reddened and I know my decibel level increased as I asked, "Do you mean to tell me my 5 month old puppy has been sitting in a cage for the last 6 hours and she hasn't even started on him?"
She couldn't even look me in the eye.
Soon the groomer came out and after mumbling one feeble excuse after another that I clearly was not interested in, lowered her head and disappeared. She never even offered an apology although the sweet vet tech did - several times - but I assured her I knew it was not her fault.
The vet walked by, smiled and uttered something about it being a "hectic day," "two emergencies," blah, blah, blah. Whatever!
I wondered what that had to do with the groomer leaving my pup in a cage all day while she attended to the 5 adult dogs that arrived after we did.
I wasn't amused and I certainly wasn't buying their crap so I asked that they "please bring me my dog so I can get out of here."
I then asked if Boomer had even had his Lepto shot since he'd been sitting around in a cage all day.
"No, but we'll take care of that right now" was the reply.
They did. I paid for the shot. I left.
Any bets on whether I'll be going back?

Ted Williams? Wasn't He a Famous Baseball Player?

The only positive thing to come out of Tucson this week is that the news bumped Ted Williams out of the headlines.
To review: Some newspaper reporter in Ohio posts a video clip on You Tube showing Williams begging on the side of the road. He's holding his cardboard sign claiming to have a "God given talent" with his voice and is looking for a second chance. He claims to be a down-on-his-luck former radio voice then proves it. He says he's been clean and sober for two years, clip hits You Tube and the rest is history.
Plucked from the obscurity of his homeless life on the streets, he becomes the celeb du jour.
But his 15 minutes was wearing thin as the media made fools of themselves stumbling over each other to get their interviews.
He got more air time last week than the President.
One reporter found Williams' 90 year old mother who says she hadn't seen him in 20 years, whisked her away to where they thought he'd be and with cameras rolling waited for the "exclusive" on the mother and son reunion.
Ooops! Yet another news crew spirited Williams out the side door and Mom and reporter were left standing, making nervous small talk, waiting. I was surprised they even aired the footage because it made to reporter look like an idiot. I liked the Mom though. I think Williams got his great voice from her.
It was reported the Cleveland Cavaliers offered Williams an announcer's job.
His AA sponsor and friend stepped in and was reportedly fielding all offers.
He conducted dozens of interviews, hit every morning news program, afternoon talk show and recorded a commercial for Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.
Yes, recent history proves there are great rewards for behaving badly.
"I'll make you a star!"
And this all occurred within maybe 48 hours of the video going viral.

Then things started to unravel...

The Smoking Gun published most of his mug shots taken in the last 20 years as Williams visited a variety of jails.
It turns out he is a convicted felon - something I'm sure The Cavs front office wishes they knew before they got all excited and offered him that job.
He claimed his life of crime was only to support his drug habit.
His ex-wife was interviewed. She not only raised her own children without financial support from Williams, she took in and raised a child he fathered with another woman, also a drug addict.
Williams was flown out to LA for yet more interviews and a reunion with some of his 7 children. The cops were called to his hotel during a domestic disturbance between Williams and one of his daughters who was upset because he polished off a bottle of vodka.
Dr. Phil, whose aversion to face time rivals only that of Gloria Allred, brings Williams on his show where he finally admits that indeed, he hasn't exactly been as clean and sober the last two years as we were led to believe. I kept waiting for Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton to insert themselves into this.
Ugh! Here we go again.
Now, it appears, he's headed to rehab.
Good idea.
No one knows how Ted Williams' story will end but the likely scenario is:
He leaves rehab after 30 days because he thinks he's cured and fame and fortune are waiting. (Is that really enough time after a lifetime of drug and alcohol abuse?)
He once again becomes the media darling, makes a ton of money only to be sued by his ex-wife and 7 children for 20 years of back child support.
The pressure causes him to fall off the wagon and the cycle repeats itself...
Stay tuned.

Jan. 14, 2011 Update:
It's been reported Williams will be in rehab for 90 days, not 30. Even better idea.

And there is good news from Tucson in that Rep. Giffords is moving fingers, toes, arms, legs and has even been moved to a sitting position on her bed.
She's opened her eyes and her breathing tube may be removed today.
I'm praying for a miracle here.

Road Trip

This marks my second drive from Boulder, CO to North Palm Beach, FL however it's the first (and perhaps last?) with Jim.
Some people are just not meant to sit in a car for three days. I happen to be married to one.
Though he'd never admit it, I know he hated those three days on the road. He considers it a waste of time, feels so very unproductive and I do understand.
And even though we were entertained by audio books (David Sidaris' Holidays On Ice, and John Grisham's The Confession) he's simply not accustomed to sitting idle for more than twenty minutes, much less three days. He squirms. He fidgets. He changes lanes for no reason other than to relieve his boredom. He adjusts every button, setting and knob that's within his reach from the front passenger seat. You name it, he'll fumble with it. The man simply cannot sit still. He's quietly praying I'll find someone else to accompany me on the return trip in the spring. Fortunately, there's plenty of time to figure this out.

The dogs, as expected, were fantastic! Jim dubbed them The Road Warriors. For the most part, they passed the time sleeping in the back seat, which was made as comfortable as possible for them with bedding, blankets and chew toys.

Boomer, not yet 5 months old, happily went along with absolutely everything and seemed to consider it all a terrific adventure. He loved his new found back seat freedom, having only traveled in his pet carrier in the past. We were worried he might get car sick but he did not. Whew!
As far as we know, Abby's only road trip experience was the transport from an animal shelter in Cowley County, Kansas where she sat unclaimed for over 30 days, to the Boulder County Humane Society where we rescued her two years ago. She was a trooper and clearly just happy to be with her people.
Our first stop was for gas in some Godforsaken town on the plains of eastern Colorado.
The dogs were excited to have a potty break and quickly relieved themselves in a dry, wintery brown grassy area adjacent to the gas station. Almost immediately, Boomer started hopping around like he was walking on a hot stove and Abby soon exhibited the same behavior. Upon checking, we discovered them both covered with prickly burrs and as the prairie winds howled, spent the next half hour carefully picking the burrs out of their paws and fur. Lesson learned!
Poor Boomer didn't want to go near grass for the remainder of our trip so one of us always scouted out the potty area to insure his safety. It took more than a little coaxing after his burr experience.

Our road trip routine is to have a healthy breakfast and then stop for a shake or a root beer float during the afternoon. It was more than enough to tide us over until dinner and of course it had absolutely no fat or calories! Ha!
Our first night was spent in Blue Springs, MO, "Home of American Idol's David Cook" (I've never seen the show) in a Hampton Inn that accepted dogs and offered a buffet breakfast in the morning. We were well east of Kansas City so as to avoid the morning rush hour.
Our second day was the longest as we wanted to get south of Atlanta for the same reason. We tried again for a Hampton Inn but the one we stopped at didn't accept dogs and the desk clerk didn't think any others in the area did either.
She recommended the nearby Drury Inn and since it was almost 10:30 pm and we were tired, we hustled over there and grabbed a room. There were so many people traveling with dogs we thought the Westminster Dog Show might be in town and they were all staying in the same hotel!
This place was more than sketchy and a dank odor that had nothing to do with pets wafted throughout the building.
The elevator was scary-noisy and I wondered if it had been inspected in the last three decades. Even the dogs freaked out.
The room was something right out of the late sixties-early seventies with tacky carpet, gaudy drapes and unmatched bedding with stains and holes. We quickly stripped the beds for the now routine bed bug inspection, closely examined the remainder of the room and deemed it safe despite the musty odor. The sheets were clean and the mattresses appeared new, but we had to wonder why the hotel would replace the mattresses and not the crappy bedding covering them. Jim's thought was it's a "designated pet room" and that's what one gets.
My thought was, "My dogs are neat, clean and they deserve better."
We slept about 6 hours and then hit the road again, arriving in North Palm in time for Happy Hour, now Yappy Hour!

Some observations from the road:
-Dogs make great traveling companions. They never complain, don't fight over the License Plate Game and not once did we hear, "When are we going to get there?"
-Most McDonald's rest rooms were a disaster but those at the rest stops were all clean and smelled as though they had been disinfected just prior to our arrival.
-Fast food is just fine when you're on the road. It's fast. It's food. And since we don't indulge any other time, it won't kill us. Besides, it tastes good!
-Long haul truckers using cell phones are just as distracted as anyone else. It's far scarier when a semi drifts into your lane than a Kia.
-Cops are everywhere. No, we did not get a ticket.
-Georgia, and especially Florida, are littered with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of monstrous roadside billboards, most of which have been rented by the religious right and the anti-abortion movement. Gone are the days of the roadside Burma Shave ads. Make no mistake, this is the Bible Belt.
-The further south you travel, the warmer it gets.
-There's nothing as welcoming as the warm embrace of a loved one after three long days on the road.
Oh! And the nice glass of Pinot Noir didn't hurt either.
Looking forward to my winter in Florida!