tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44925266131434505892024-03-14T04:45:10.649-05:00What's Next?Notes on the current, the past, and the future....as it comes.Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-73450479806485024892014-05-22T19:03:00.001-05:002014-05-22T19:05:19.391-05:00Thank You, Ladies<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I met a RN yesterday who graduated TWU (Houston Campus) two years before me. There's a side story to that.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I want to talk about something else. I made home visits today as part of a home health agency survey. I visited a 65 year old woman who previously spent 19 years in prison for killing her husband. Her story: she and her husband lived in a crime-riddled neighborhood long ago. He brought her a handgun and taught her how to use it for self defense. Some time later, he came home, and something triggered him to beat her. She got her handgun and shot him (in self-defense). Apparently the judge stated at her sentencing, that if it was up to him, he would not send her to prison.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I visited an elderly woman living in government housing apartments. She hailed from the Maryland coast and had been in Texas in this apartment for six years. She told me she hated Texas, but somehow, she was ordered to move to Texas. All her family remain in Maryland. Except for her physical limitations, she remains fiercely independent.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another woman I visited suffered from severe osteoarthritis. Conversationally, I learned she was from a county in which I lived and worked many years ago. Without prompting, she told me she lost her daughter (who had three children) 10 years ago. Her daughter was killed by the husband; then he shot himself. My patient raised her three grandchildren. They are adults now, well-educated and leading productive lives.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Life can be hard. We all go through times of stress, challenge, grief, heartache and downright difficult times. Each of these women had made their way to today, overcoming the difficulties they encountered. None of them were bitter.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-88430923805472101132014-01-11T18:24:00.000-06:002014-01-11T18:24:23.140-06:00Let's Hear It For The Boys!<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Today was Pedicure Day. Our appointments were both at 11:00 AM. Vicki and I schedule this time together just to catch-up and maybe use pedi time as kick-off for a Saturday road trip. Today's pedi activity was to meet at Drew's Place in Como/Camp Bowie area for lunch---right after our pedicures.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>So---we're at <em>Drew's</em> and Drew is in the kitchen looming over his gastronomic domain. The dining room has just a few tables of 3 or 4 persons/table there before us. The dining room at Drew's Place probably seats about 50, maybe 60 people in a close-knit environment. </strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>BTW, I must preface the rest of this with the statement that I swear I witnessed a cosmic event and the rest will describe this. Also, I am very curious to hear comments about this post from those of you who are reading this. DEAL? Vicki told me that she will never forget today's events at lunch.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Okay---go forward with this explanation: Drew's Place is an honest-to-God soul food restaurant that pretty much beats any other S-F restaurant I've visited anywhere. And the sweet tea is PERFECT.</strong></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y77_NpxOUbc/UtHefnVd1wI/AAAAAAAAAME/Y6Rp-o7pElw/s1600/day_in_the_life_of_a_little_boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y77_NpxOUbc/UtHefnVd1wI/AAAAAAAAAME/Y6Rp-o7pElw/s1600/day_in_the_life_of_a_little_boy.jpg" height="320" width="251" /></a><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>We're sitting at the first customer's table from the front door and we are well into our lunches and our conversations about work, family, etc. Vicki was facing the door and my back was to the door. I see her look up, go silent and look at something behind me. About that time, I could begin to hear sounds behind me, multiple kids' voices, some rising over the others. There was a slight breeze of air that circled among 9-12 young boys, all about 6-11 years old--all clean-cut boys, most resembled each other, in facial structure, coloring, etc---even freckles. The boys looked like they were coming off the Boy Scouts' bus into a cafe---straight off the cover of a 1959 Saturday Evening Post cover. As they "herded in," the boys shuffled, pulled out chairs, to sit, only they would abandon a chair and try to take a seat from one of the others. There were two couples who came in together, dressed in church clothes---perhaps they were having lunch after a funeral. These boys were moving deep into this table's outer perimeter. The boys were closing in and the two couples quickly abandoned their table, picking up silverware and their coffees and iced teas to steer clear of the boys.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>We both remarked in astonishment that this was a rare sighting of human public behavior. As the boys were in herding-mode, a well-dressed woman from a different table comes over, puts her hands on two boys' shoulders and looks each in the eye and tells them to correct their behavior. To me, it wasn't that these boys were loud and rambunctious; it was as if there were just SO MANY of them and they appeared as if they were in another time--if not the 60's, then it was the early 70's. The two captive boys were still and looked away while the lady dressed them down a bit. Afterward, she went back to her table to continue her meal.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>We saw another couple come in right after the boys. The newcomers to Drew's were just like, "Oh, shit." We got up abruptly so they could sit down. </strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Turns out, these boys are all brothers in the same family. No, they are not foster brothers in a foster home. They come a lot of times on Saturday for lunch. They eat without adult supervision; a taxi-VAN brings them and sits outside to wait on the boys to finish their lunches. The parents never come. </strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Vicki and I were told that these boys order much more food than they eat. They've been coming for years. </strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Questions: </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>1. Are there sets of multiple births? </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>2. Twins, triplets? </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>3. Do they have different biological mothers?</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>4. Are these boys cousins, not brothers? </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>5. Was the cashier just making up a story about the boys?</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Amazing lunch...we like Drew's quite a bit. We'll go again----for the soul food and now, to watch the boys!</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Tune in in about a month or so. We'll keep you posted; maybe post a photograph--at least one of Drew's.</strong></span>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-90996154935938168322010-10-07T19:46:00.007-05:002010-10-07T20:50:23.272-05:00Maybe A New Blog Title Is In Order<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TK50ZeKJ1xI/AAAAAAAAAEY/GCWbtWPnP0I/s1600/flood.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525481773771380498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TK50ZeKJ1xI/AAAAAAAAAEY/GCWbtWPnP0I/s400/flood.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TK50ZP-VmQI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/mQ09G9IdrAY/s1600/flooded+sunroom.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525481769963723010" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TK50ZP-VmQI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/mQ09G9IdrAY/s400/flooded+sunroom.bmp" /></a><br /><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">Maybe I am testing the powers that be. Maybe I should just stop asking, "what's next?"</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I began to feel that my life was on target several months ago. I became a volunteer rape/crisis advocate. Callie and I began sharing a special bond and we've really enjoyed each other. I love holding her little hand as we walk to the car. I love our conversations. I love the way she hugs and I love being loved by her.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I planned a cruise for Zack, Brooke and myself. And we had a great time sharing new experiences and seeing things together. It was great.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I visited Vicki in Boston---a great trip, saw some of Maine, had my first boiled Maine lobster---fresh from the sea THAT day! We visited Salem, Kennebunkport...and had a great time.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I was on a roll! </span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">Then, over Labor Day wekend, I lost a great friend. My friend Cindy died unexpectedly and I made a fast trip to Baton Rouge to see her family and go to the funeral. Cindy's death was a loss for many people and I have felt honored that we were friends.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I got home about 10:30 PM on the 7th of September---drove straight through in constant rain, sometimes driving down the Interstate between Lafayette and Nachtitoches about 15 MPH. Planned to go in to work a little late the next morning.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I awoke to the fan stopping and knew the electricity had stopped. Looked into the backyard and Rush Creek had crept up onto my patio. The backyard was a lake. I dressed quickly, picked up my still-packed overnight bag, rounded up the dogs and we piled into the car in a torrential downpour. I barely made it out of the neighborhood. Streets were flooding with fast currents of water, sirens were blaring and firetrucks were blocking street accesses. </span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I had to travel to an unfamiliar vet's office (on higher ground) to get the dogs boarded. Luckily, they agreed to take Lexie and Katie and call their regular vet for shot records, etc.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I started my way to Ruth's house and had texted Zack about the rising water, called Ruth to tell her I was on my way. And, knowing from previous experiences with rising creek waters, this time it was BAD. By this time, I could hear helicopters, more sirens and there was water everywhere. I was distraught, crying and fed up.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I got to Ruth's house two hours later, we went to pick Callie up at her school, went back to Ruth's house. A friend of Ruth's called her to tell her that she saw my house on the noon news. We turned on the TV and saw film of people being rescued by helicopter in my neighborhood. </span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I called my great across-the-street neighbors and was told that it was very bad. Gene estimated that there was four feet of water inside my house.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">That's when I felt that my life had changed and I felt that familiar hole in my being as I had when Clu Flu died. Granted, it wasn't the same.....but I knew that I had lost almost every material reminder of my life memories over 59 years.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">It is 30 days past that initial shock and destruction and I have been blessed in many ways through this misfortune. I am truly thankful for the out-pouring of love, concern, caring and support that I have received.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">But, I know that hole will remain for a very long time. There have been MANY frustrations with trying to problem-solve and re-build some semblance of my life.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">It's a process....and I'm still trying to figure out how to make this a meaningful learning experience and a way to build strength and fortitude.</span></em></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#330000;">I'm not going to ask "what's next?" for a long time to come.</span></em></strong> </div></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-39172473782457964542010-08-07T14:14:00.005-05:002010-08-07T14:31:31.634-05:00Been There, Done That<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TF2zZTFS7ZI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Jfbmh0MS44Q/s1600/821.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502751566917201298" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TF2zZTFS7ZI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Jfbmh0MS44Q/s400/821.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong>We're back in the Lower 48 now. I am somewhat transformed...much more relaxed and very appreciative of the ability and opportunity to have visited some of Alaska.</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong>The panoramic views of Alaskan wildlife and sea/landscapes were amazing to behold.</strong></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong>If life's turns had been a little different after college, I probably would have been in Alaska or at least the Southwest today, having worked for the Indian Health Service all these years...but one can only speculate.</strong></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><strong>If Alaska is a glimpse of what Heaven may be after we depart our worldly shell, then, I'm a believer!</strong></span></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-73162303002677059912010-07-10T14:37:00.007-05:002010-07-10T19:49:30.865-05:00A New Frontier<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TDkUDunSKwI/AAAAAAAAAD4/SERx2b5OWns/s1600/alaskan+bear.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492443274839993090" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TDkUDunSKwI/AAAAAAAAAD4/SERx2b5OWns/s400/alaskan+bear.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;">Like everyone, I have a few regrets tucked away from previous life experiences. The rewarding and positive things totally outnumber the regrets. I look forward to many rewarding things in my life and am in awe of all the greatness life has to offer us.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;">Zack, Brooke and I are taking an Alaskan cruise in two weeks. This has taken alot of planning and decision-making. There are so many great excursions to choose for Juneau, Ketchikan, Sitka and Victoria BC ports. Between e-mails and phone discussions we finalized our plans today.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;">Alaska has been on my to-do list for at least 15-18 years. Clu Flu and I always planned to go, but it never materialized...kids' summer activities, summer camps, family vacations, no time to get away, etc. all got in the way of making final plans to do this. Not pursuing our plans for Alaska is one of my biggest regrets. It would have been a great thing for us to experience together.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;">That has not minimized my excitement in taking this cruise with Zack and Brooke. They are more adventurous (and younger) than me, and they are taking bike rides, zip-line expeditions in rainforest, sea kayaking and dog-sledding/glacier helicopter tours. I will visit a totem village, watch whales; explore for brown bears/bald eagles, sea otters; take a tram to top of a mountain; and examine old Russian architecture. We will all explore Glacier Bay from the ship.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;">I will eat wild salmon and Alaskan King Crab as much as I can. I will enjoy sitting on our verandah and watching the landscapes, glaciers, sunrises/sunsets.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;">We plan our short time in Victoria, BC to just sight-see, visit an English pub and just enjoy each others' company. What memories I will have from this trip!</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;">I am humbled and overwhelmed to be able to share this trip with them. Clu Flu will be with us, I'm sure.</span></strong></div></div></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-34777868721108365402010-07-07T18:49:00.007-05:002010-07-07T19:25:24.753-05:00If I Had Been Tempted In The Garden Of Eden<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TDUa1s9E8DI/AAAAAAAAADg/fEw19d_p2Iw/s1600/Tomato.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491324830550913074" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TDUa1s9E8DI/AAAAAAAAADg/fEw19d_p2Iw/s400/Tomato.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TDUZ7JbaKuI/AAAAAAAAADY/sP0AWVSZoUI/s1600/tomato3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491323824582044386" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/TDUZ7JbaKuI/AAAAAAAAADY/sP0AWVSZoUI/s400/tomato3.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">If I had been roaming the Garden of Eden instead of Eve, maybe there would have been a different outcome. You see, I can resist the temptation of an apple..no matter how red, unblemished, crisp or sweet....I am able to turn 'em down. "No thank you, I'm fine." "Yes, that is a beautiful apple, but I'll pass."<br /><br />Remember, even Snow White was tempted by the mean Queen's red, juicy apple. Look what happened to Snow White...a premature demise, a deep sleep.<br /><br />My temptation would be a glorious, red, full of sunshine tomato. And we are in the midst of the "season of the tomato." Just give me a just-plucked warm, red tomato from the vine and a shaker of salt---I AM IN HEAVEN! I have stood in the middle of my Dad's garden in July, canvassing for the ripest tomato within sight; I have reached down to hold it in my palm, gingerly feeling its weight and girth. The warmth of that tomato on the vine and the smell of the tomato sends me into a state of excitement coupled with the thought that life just can't be better than this.<br /><br />As I have snapped the tomato from the stem of the plant with just a slight twist and felt the remnants of dew from the leaves as my hand reached through the branches, I anticipate the first bite. I gently rub the tomato against my jeans to knock off any errant sand granules and with the salt shaker in my left hand, I bring the fruit to my mouth. With eyes closed to experience its flavor without distraction, I lean forward to take that first bite. I know from experience that the juice will run down my arm as I take that bite. Then, I shake some salt over the excised and exposed area of the tomato flesh and take the second grand bite. I have no words worthy to describe the flavor. I eat that tomato and walk forward down the row of tomato plants to find my chaser tomato.<br /><br />You see, Satan would never have tempted Eve with a tomato. For centuries, tomatoes were believed to be poisonous. Satan's goal was to make Eve suffer, not to kill her. And then Eve convinced Adam to take a bite of apple...you know the rest of the story.</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">The next time you pick a tomato from the grocer's shelf or from a basket at a road-side produce stand, remember that if Eve had eaten the tomato instead of the apple....we might all be living in the Garden of Eden, unclothed, happy, healthy and enjoying fruits of our Lord's bounty.</span> </strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></div></strong></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-13088659158646957952010-05-07T19:09:00.004-05:002010-05-07T19:30:48.632-05:00Oops! I did it again.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S-SwQFbcFNI/AAAAAAAAADQ/bh0b0YhE_XE/s1600/Diane%27s+Camera++2008-2009-2010+293.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468689637916284114" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S-SwQFbcFNI/AAAAAAAAADQ/bh0b0YhE_XE/s400/Diane%27s+Camera++2008-2009-2010+293.JPG" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"><strong>You may remember a post titled "Lexie's Lucky Day." It was almost 2 years ago. Well, guess what. That's right, I did it again this evening. One significant difference was that I was wide awake as opposed to the previous time when I was groggy at 6:00 AM.</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"><strong>The other significant difference was this time, I reached down to pick up her bowl the very second I poured 3 cups of kibble into it. Bad idea. Lexie remains very quick when it comes to gastronomical satisfaction. The growl and jaw clamp from her caused me to jerk my right hand away from the bowl. </strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"><strong>I rationalized that two times making this blunder in two years wasn't too bad. Lexie thinks it's pretty damn cool.</strong></span></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-72593099694388392802010-04-24T08:17:00.006-05:002010-04-24T09:49:43.230-05:00Analyze This<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S9MBZkMGB6I/AAAAAAAAADI/wb8fvdcu1ik/s1600/dreams.3.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 305px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463712311653304226" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S9MBZkMGB6I/AAAAAAAAADI/wb8fvdcu1ik/s400/dreams.3.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong>Had a rare remembrance of a dream this morning. I never have awakened memories of my dreams, but this morning, I did. My dream was very jumbled and there were quite a few components that were unrelated and made no sense. </strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong>Points: I was at my childhood home. The house was uninhabited. The dream involved a few previous co-workers (from a significant previous employment---some of you will know from what I speak!) There was quite a bit of activity...a World War II tribute on my front lawn of childhood home replete with uniformed veterans. The Air Force Band were playing patriotic music and American flags were posted everywhere. Unknown persons were milling around when I arrived. As I came out of a work conference held down the street to head back home, I noticed a former co-worker and her husband leaving the tribute. The former co-worker was curt, but polite.</strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong>My husband was sitting in an area of assembled lawn chairs waiting for my conference to be over. My son's former girlfriend was a new employee at this place and I was there to orient her to my previous job (on-the-job training---I volunteered for it.) I felt a bit of nostalgia for this job that I left many years ago and I remember feeling quite at home in the conference. It was good to see people I had worked with.</strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong>I mentioned to the former employee I approached that many old co-workers were down the street. She said she could care less. I was a little hurt by her, but made my way back to my husband, excited to tell him all about the conference. Our children were to meet us at the WW II tribute and then we all planned to go to Babe's for dinner.</strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong>The dream was emotional for me, having so many random connections of my life there in one scenario. I remember the feeling of loss of important things in my life that had transpired over a wide block of time. Towards the end of my dream, things unraveled....I lost my way--- all those I love were evaporated one by one and I was left in the front yard of my childhood home. The WW II tribute dis-banded, my husband walked away to talk to an old friend, the kids had other plans and the people at the former job had moved the conference further down the street.</strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"><strong>I have pondered about the randomness of the life connections. I'm guessing it had something to do with mortality.</strong></span></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-23387506076855991092010-03-28T22:20:00.002-05:002010-03-28T22:40:53.631-05:00I CAN'T WAIT<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S7AhDahM0CI/AAAAAAAAADA/-68bjwNjlhM/s1600/alaskan+bear.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453895491287568418" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S7AhDahM0CI/AAAAAAAAADA/-68bjwNjlhM/s400/alaskan+bear.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;color:#330000;">I can't wait.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:180%;color:#330000;">Just one of the images I hope to see.</span></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-72134658301139253122010-03-09T22:46:00.004-06:002010-03-09T23:17:42.646-06:00All Is Right With The World<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S5cqdSM7ivI/AAAAAAAAAC4/RklTGljgaag/s1600-h/Johann+Georg+Meyer_Young+Woman+Looking+through+a+Window.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 221px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446868956918549234" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/S5cqdSM7ivI/AAAAAAAAAC4/RklTGljgaag/s320/Johann+Georg+Meyer_Young+Woman+Looking+through+a+Window.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">Did you ever have a block of time in your life that just couldn't be better? I may be in just such a place. Sure, there have been frustrations and sadness. But overall, life is good. There are some exciting times going on with family members. Some of are making strides in personal growth. (Yay, Miss Tootie!)</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">Some snippets of life's goodness: A very unexpected white Christmas, my family all together.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">A January road trip to Tennessee to see Gail and Jack, Rachel, Lance, Will and Maci. The weekend flew by, but Gail and Jack were great hosts and I felt pampered and loved. It was a fabulous time of catching up, relaxation, music and family love.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">Since visiting Tennessee, I have made home-made bread a few times. Jack has baked his family's bread consistently for many years. Watching Jack make bread brought to my mind all the pleasure and satisfaction I have had when baking bread in the past.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">My youngest spent 10 exciting days in Vancouver for the Winter Olympics. That is an experience that will live in her memory forever.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">Work has been rocking along. I work with such a a cohesive group. We ARE a team.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">Then, the record-breaking snow in February. Large broken tree limbs everywhere and the Lusk household lost four shrubs and some big tree limbs. The snow was beautiful. I will always remember stepping out on the patio around sunrise and listening to the muffled sounds that come with a heavy snow.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">I have booked an Alaskan cruise for myself and two of the kids. I can't even begin to wonder about the things we'll see and experience. This has been a life-long desire. I'm only sorry that I can't share it with Clu Flu. We always "planned" to take an Alaskan trip.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">There are other positive things going on that I can't speak of right now. But suffice it to say, I'm happy.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">Cheers!</span></strong></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-70870081103282301082009-12-26T18:16:00.006-06:002009-12-26T18:47:16.005-06:00Merry Christmas From The Family<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SzauCdjJsqI/AAAAAAAAACw/AkpUZ78C0vE/s1600-h/capra_family1230524872.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419710558902006434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SzauCdjJsqI/AAAAAAAAACw/AkpUZ78C0vE/s320/capra_family1230524872.jpg" /></a><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span><div align="justify"><span style="color:#333333;"><strong>Christmas was fast and a blur. I always marvel at the time taken to prepare for Christmas---writing cards, making plans with loved ones, cleaning and decorating the house, grocery shopping, shopping for gifts, baking, attending various social functions. Then 12/24/2009 arrives. There is still lots to do. Church services, build a fire in the fireplace, prepare Christmas Eve dinner, maybe open some presents, travel. Most women are tired when Christmas morning breaks. There is still so much to do. Family traditions are observed--we must have Aunt Sue's Breakfast Strata and Mimosas! Christmas dinner must be prepared and there are gifts to open and admire.</strong> </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#333333;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333333;">All things Christmas are memorable, whether positive or negative. And to ensure that we don't forget, cameras are clicked hundreds of times.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#333333;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#333333;"><strong>I hope we all keep one point in focus. Christmas is LOVE. Whether we say it to others or just share a moment. it is still about love. Even when we are at our worst, love still is paramount. Christmas Season brings stresses to us all, but how we choose to remember THIS Christmas is what matters.</strong> </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#333333;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333333;">I love my family---each member is very dear and each person brings a different set of positive attributes to the collective group. There are times...there are times, when things go awry, but for each and every one of us, the collective WE is what matters the most. We continue to cement our love in the here and now, never forgetting those cherished moments in the past when we had fun, when we had sadness, when we overcame our troubles, when we revelled in one's successes.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333333;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333333;">Truly, God's gifts to us include our families, for no others will be there with us for each important moment in our lives. There is unconditional understanding and an ability to give each other what we need. Count your blessings, hug those you love and remember...there's no place like home.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333333;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333333;">Merry Christmas.</span></strong></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-91975226434484641772009-10-17T20:52:00.003-05:002009-10-17T21:25:44.344-05:00Zoom Zoom<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/Stp8N_psIXI/AAAAAAAAACE/hT79pWkpxCA/s1600-h/2010-mazda-cx-7.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 174px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393760083596026226" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/Stp8N_psIXI/AAAAAAAAACE/hT79pWkpxCA/s320/2010-mazda-cx-7.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">I bought a new vehicle today. There has been contemplation for several months. I needed better gas mileage and a smaller car.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">I drove a Mazda 3 rental while in Baltimore and loved it.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">Switching makes of cars is a big deal to some (me) people. I have driven Jeeps for nine years...and other Dodge/Chrysler products for 14-15 years prior to that.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">But the biggest deal about all this is that I bought my first foreign-built and designed car today.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">"American-made is better made."</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">"Buy American."</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">"Support industry here at home." I believe all those things...but, the time has come in the auto industry that one cannot make a major purchase like a car on honor and allegiance alone.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">Clu Flu would never buy anything but a Ford/Mercury or Dodge/Chrysler product (American). But, he was a very intelligent and rationale man....and I think if he were alive today, he would probably see there are valid reasons to buy a foreign-built vehicle. Anyway, I guess I hope he would see that...</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">On to the fun part---I bought a 5-door Mazda CX 7 i Sport; "Stormy Blue" with a 2.5 cu. engine with variable valve timing. It's a good looking crossover and I enjoy driving it. The Commander was just cumbersome and had limited maneuverability. </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">The dealership was easy to work with and I feel like they were fair/honest.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">The only drawback is that the car has a rear DVD player that will <em>never be used</em>, but since it was on the lot, they dropped the price.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;">ZOOM-ZOOM!</span></strong> </div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-25134928996884967172009-09-05T00:51:00.004-05:002009-09-05T01:40:20.920-05:00YGTBK<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SqIHfjNeHXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/ckEEZGAim5g/s1600-h/kids+watching+tv.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 304px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377869143642873202" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SqIHfjNeHXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/ckEEZGAim5g/s400/kids+watching+tv.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong>"You've got to be kidding!" This is what my brain said to me this evening when I scanned FB (Facebook). I found a poll that asked if our schoolchildren <em>should be allowed</em> to watch a Presidential address to the nation's schoolchildren. Apparently schools are sending permission slips home for parents to allow their children to watch the address at school. Results of the poll earlier tonight showed about 2/3 of the people taking the poll voting "NO."</strong></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>YGTBK.....</strong></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>Points: Our schoolchildren have watched live coverage of September 11, 2001 devastation. They have watched "The Bachelor/Bachelorette" learning that true love may be found by going on a TV show and being in a contest to find a life-partner. (Where is the sanctity of marriage in that, I ask of the religious right wing and Sarah Palin???)</strong></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>Do those in opposition fear their children may become thinkers in their own right? Under the Third Reich in Nazi Germany school content was censored and programmed to show that the Arians were supreme over all other races. Books were banned. How will our children learn about our democratic process and be able to DECIDE FOR THEMSELVES later in life if we don't allow them to have access to our President. It is all about our freedoms, people. One may argue that there should be the freedom to prevent them from watching this. With no disrespect...that is Neanderthal thinking.</strong></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>I was in the fourth grade when John F. Kennedy was sworn in as President. My teacher walked her whole class to her nearby home so that we could watch live coverage of the Inauguration. My parents did not have to send a permission slip to school to allow this. My parents did not vote for JFK, but they sure did not raise a ruckus when I went home to tell them that I watched that special day on television. I still remember the sense of being pleased that I was able to witness a historic event. We discussed the election process, the formality and the responsibility of the Oath of Office. I felt like I was part of something that impacted all of America.</strong></div><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><div><strong>We have become a nation of self-satisfying and self-protecting people. Where is our concern for our fellow man? I think we have forgotten just how great our American way of life is...that was prescribed by the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.</strong></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><strong>Think about it in a global way...outside your own little individual domain. If not for yourself, then for your children and theirs.</strong> </div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-91216910293505204762009-08-20T22:15:00.004-05:002009-08-20T23:38:58.437-05:00Living The Good Life<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/So4jvHbc-MI/AAAAAAAAABs/CKODMWLH-_c/s1600-h/world+peace.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 345px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 349px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372270697854597314" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/So4jvHbc-MI/AAAAAAAAABs/CKODMWLH-_c/s400/world+peace.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"Bless me , Father, for I have sinned"....no, I'm not making a public confession here. That's just an opening to the content I want to write about. Here is where this thought originated:</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">If you know me, you know that I don't experience loss very well. As we build our lives in younger years, we accumulate. We gain friendships, experience, knowledge, income, possessions; and we grow in love for significant persons. We find our way, stumble a little, but generally make PROGRESS. But, as we age, we lose parts of what we build. General principles of life here...and I have no regrets, for if I made mistakes along the way, I gained knowledge and experience. The knowledge may be "Don't do that again!"</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Back to loss. And mind you, this is just an editorial piece. I don't want to change anyone's beliefs or standards. But, it's my perception that over a period of a few years, there has been a direct opposition to "Christian belief" and a general consenus of thinking that we are right and everyone else is wrong. Is it right for a group of people to have their "inalienable rights" condemned? Is it right to turn away from someone in need, just because they didn't have the same opportunities as us, or because there was no one to guide them in a certain way? Is it right to shun another human being because they sinned? For all our Sunday morning teachings of tolerance and lending a helping hand, we sure as rain do not practice those teachings. </span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">We are hateful and do not try to understand another belief, idea, or practice. We do not respect our leaders, and we only see how things will affect self. There is something greater in all of us than there is in any one of us.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Why is it that one person cannot accept the other for having a different viewpoint or philosophy? We don't have to agree on everything, but goodness, let there be understanding and acceptance of those differences.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">We're never going to get out of the muck, and we will never live our earthly lives in the warmth of our Creator's intentions for us as long as we fail in tolerance, acceptance, love, honor, and respect for every human being on this Earth.</span></strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">That is the greatest loss.</span></strong> </div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-64707060356067485422009-07-31T19:14:00.005-05:002009-07-31T20:17:36.810-05:00Rule of Forty<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SnOWqEgQhAI/AAAAAAAAABk/OXVi364UeCo/s1600-h/beatles-abbeyroad.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364797230636106754" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SnOWqEgQhAI/AAAAAAAAABk/OXVi364UeCo/s400/beatles-abbeyroad.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SnOVs1d1i2I/AAAAAAAAABc/LNKh9eylZQ4/s1600-h/easy+rider.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 280px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364796178627398498" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SnOVs1d1i2I/AAAAAAAAABc/LNKh9eylZQ4/s400/easy+rider.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><strong>As I remembered earlier this year that it has been 40 years since I graduated from high school (good grief!), I also thought about some other things from 40 years ago.</strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong>1. Neil Armstrong's small step on the moon</strong></div><div><strong>2. 40th anniversary of Peter Fonda's <em>Easy Rider</em></strong></div><div><strong><em>3. </em>40 years since the Tate-La Bianca murders..Helter Skelter/Charles Manson</strong></div><div><strong>4. Vietnam Protest--Washington DC---250,000 protesters converged</strong></div><div><strong>5. Richard Nixon is sworn in as President</strong></div><div><strong>6. Teddy Kennedy---Chappaquiddick</strong></div><div><strong>7. Woodstock---350K bodies and various drugs are essentially rain-soaked and in the mud (08/15-17/1969)</strong></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>But there is more: </strong></div><div><strong>--1969 was the year the US government instituted the draft lottery system to supply troops in VietNam;</strong></div><div><strong>--PBS is begun and Sesame Street debuted the same year;</strong></div><div><strong>--Sam Walton incorporated Wal-Mart;</strong></div><div><strong>--Beatles' Abbey Road album was recorded---there were rumors that Paul had died because he was the only Beatle walking barefoot across the street in the album cover photo--there was hysteria on the radio</strong></div><div><strong>--John and Yoko Lennon posed for the cover of "Two Virgins" album in full-frontal nudity. The album was consficated in a US airport</strong></div><br /><div><strong>I have nothing profound or even interesting to say about these events except that I can only count two things that occurred for the greater good: Neil Armstrong's walk on the moon, and the inception of the Public Broadcasting System (Sesame Street).</strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-64284444413327785952009-07-26T08:02:00.003-05:002009-07-26T08:51:41.965-05:00A Blast From The Past<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/Smxep17asqI/AAAAAAAAABU/UMlijEQbDh4/s1600-h/drapers%27+boss+dinner.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362765329235358370" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/Smxep17asqI/AAAAAAAAABU/UMlijEQbDh4/s400/drapers%27+boss+dinner.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;">I may be the last person in the lower 48 to become acquainted with the AMC drama series <em>Mad Men</em>. This series has been nominated for many Emmys this year. My daughter suggested that I catch up to the upcoming third season by renting Seasons 1 and 2 DVDs. </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;">Just let me say that it is like going back in time to watch these shows. The show's premise concerns life in the very urbane and sophisticated Manhattan advertising world circa 1960. Even though I was only 9 years old in 1960, I recognize the time period portrayed. There is a sense of authentic surrealism in watching a reflective time piece like this. The clothes, the habits, the homes, the food and drink are on-spot. The characters' dialogue, mannerisms, etiquette are portrayed in an uncanny manner.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;">There is no profanity, there is eluded sexual activity, and there are a lot of martinis being drunk and everyone smokes like cigarettes are a life-sustaining force. Women have perfect nails/hair/makeup. Men wear great suits with long-sleeved white shirts with cuff links....and the main male character (a very attractive man) wears long-sleeved pajamas. His wife wears sheer nightgowns with matching peignoirs. She is Barbie come alive.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;">Even with all that going for it, the story line is dynamic, the mores of the time accurate. There is a true portrayal of male (dominate)/female (submissive) interaction. Even though the brainy, smart, business-minded men show great etiquette towards women, they have no respect for their women. It is understood that a wife is supposed to spend money, run a tight ship at home, be able to feed the boss at a moment's notice, and have well-behaved children who eat supper early and are in bed before Daddy comes home. And there are many sexual innuendos thrown out there toward the lowly women in the office. The men leer, make jokes, drink hard liquor, and generally play in the office. </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;">A very significant interaction in the first episode centered around the steno pool/secretarial supervisor (part Madame/Mom/Shark) who was orienting a new "girl" to the work area. As she showed her the IBM Selectric typewriter, she assured the young girl that it may look intimidating, "but the men who developed it made it simple enough so that a woman could use it."</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;">Also, a newly-divorced woman with two children move into the neighborhood. This causes a new dynamic that must be approached with caution and reserve. She is attractive and of the same social stature as the wives, but she is a very real threat to the neighborhood's monogamous setting. </span></strong></div><br /><div></div><div><strong><span style="color:#999900;">I can't say enough great things about this show. If you are curious, watch it.</span></strong> </div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-17664226316876501072009-07-11T18:47:00.005-05:002009-07-11T19:44:15.632-05:00May I Buy You A Drink?<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SlkvfAqT84I/AAAAAAAAABE/mxSzYzQEKHU/s1600-h/barrel+glass.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 287px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357365441533834114" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SlkvfAqT84I/AAAAAAAAABE/mxSzYzQEKHU/s320/barrel+glass.jpg" /></a> <strong><span style="color:#333300;">Time is fluid. We have many things to remember. We have many memories.</span></strong><br /><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">Once in a great while, something will happen as a direct result of some action or event that you have long past forgotten. That something happened for me today.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">There was an 11X14 white envelope in the mailbox today. I recognized the sender's logo for a catalogue I receive frequently. I opened the envelope to find the latest catalogue from <em>The Vermont Country Store, </em>a merchandiser that sells household products, clothing, toiletries, and foodstuffs that some of us remember from childhood or our parents remember. They even purvey toys of yesteryear. Every so often, I have purchased items from them. A box of "Goo Goo Clusters" and soft peppermint sticks for the kids would be delivered at Christmas. I buy shower curtain liners and crisp white bedlinens (hospital crisp) from them.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">My husband had favorite drinking tumblers we called "barrel glasses." Perhaps your parents remember them. They became very hard to find. The old hardware store on the square in Denton sold them, but at some point they told me they couldn't find them anymore. One year, this catalogue listed the barrel glasses and I bought 24 for Clu Flu as a Christmas present. Even so, <em>The Vermont Country Store </em>only listed them that one time.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">About five years ago, I sent an e-mail to them, requesting that they attempt to look for these tumblers (they would honor customer requests for specific items and prided themselves on hunting items down and listing them in the catalogue). And then, I proceeded to forget all about it.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">Before Clu Flu died last year, we were down to our last two barrel glasses. We both thought that we would never be able to get them again.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">Back to today...also in the envelope was a letter addressed to me stating that because of my request "some time back", they wanted to let me know that they were offering the tumblers on page 86 of the current catalogue! And even better was the fact that these tumblers were 9 ounce capacity compared to the 6 ounce size we had. The letter went on to say that because they found the tumblers; were offering them again; and to thank me for the suggestion...they were sending me a "redeemable purchase code" for $25.00 toward the purchase of any item in the catalogue. Looking at page 86, I found them...with the notation at the top: "Recommended by Diane Lusk, Arlington, Texas."</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">Clu Flu would be so pleased....</span></strong></div><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#333300;"></span></strong>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-79510536961920112692009-06-26T19:41:00.005-05:002009-06-26T22:40:26.835-05:00I Remember That I Was.....When I Heard The News That ......<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Regarding Michael Jackson's sudden death on 06/25/2009... One of my daughter's friends posted on her blog yesterday that she wondered if after many years, she will remember what she was doing when she heard the news of Michael Jackson's death. </span></strong><div><div><div><div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">After living "several" years, witnessing/hearing many significant events; and going down Memory Lane, I was amazed at what I remembered. (Please forgive the previous run-on sentence.)</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">1. Adolph Eichmann was a Nazi who was responsible for the deaths of millions of Jews during the Holocaust. He was abducted in 1960 from Buenos Aires where he lived in isolation. He was taken to Israel where he was tried for 15 counts of war crimes in May, 1960. He was sentenced to death and was hanged in 1962. I remember this because the trial was televised. It was the first time I knew about bullet-proof glass. He sat in a glassed-in box during the entire trial.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">2. John F. Kennedy recited the oath of office as President of the United States on January 20, 1961. Male dignitaries wore top hats and formal morning coats. The day was cold, clear and newly-fallen snow blanketed the ground. The inauguration was televised live; I was in the fourth grade. My teacher walked us to her house about 3 blocks away so that we could watch the inauguration. I'll never forget that day..."Let the word go forth...that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans."</span></strong></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN77-rlxI/AAAAAAAAAAc/a4K8jfIBTvY/s1600-h/jfk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351839793052096274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN77-rlxI/AAAAAAAAAAc/a4K8jfIBTvY/s320/jfk.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">3. I was in 7th grade gym class on Friday, November 22, 1963 when the announcement was made that President Kennedy had been shot. School let out after we learned that he had died.</span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">4. I was watching live TV coverage of the Kennedy assassination on Sunday, November 24, 1963 with my parents (as most people did). We saw Jack Ruby walk up to Oswald as he was being escorted by Dallas PD and shoot him point-blank in the abdomen. There was utter chaos at that moment as deputies/guards wrestled Jack Ruby to the floor.</span></strong></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN8DqXKbI/AAAAAAAAAAk/JPFqkQUmMas/s1600-h/oswald.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351839795114355122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN8DqXKbI/AAAAAAAAAAk/JPFqkQUmMas/s320/oswald.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">5. On Sunday, 02/09/1964, I watched TV, eagerly awaiting the Fab Four as they walked onto the stage of the Ed Sullivan Show---again, live TV. Life in the US was never the same.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">6. I was baby-sitting neighbor children on June 4, 1968. I had put them to bed and watched live coverage of the Democratic primary in Los Angeles. Bobby Kennedy was ahead in the votes. When I woke up the next morning, my mother told me that Bobby had been assassinated in the kitchen of the L. A. hotel immediately following his televised speech. </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">7. I watched live coverage of Neil Armstrong's walk on the moon on July 20, 1969. I don't think I realized the magnitude of this at the time.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">8. The bells of peace rang in January, 1973 for the coming end of the Vietnam War. I was lying in my dorm room bed at Denton campus, TWU. My roommate and I cried as we heard the bells toll repeatedly over the radio at midnight. </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">9. I was in college in the Texas Medical Center, Houston during the Watergate "incident." I remember walking through the lobby of the dorm where people were watching Tricky Dick talk about the tapes, his advisors, etc. I saw/heard him say "I am not a crook!"<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN8VghHhI/AAAAAAAAAAs/k8yNqWUJxuI/s1600-h/tricky+dick.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351839799904902674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 162px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN8VghHhI/AAAAAAAAAAs/k8yNqWUJxuI/s320/tricky+dick.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">10. Ruth was 19 days old when she woke up around 6:00 AM on August 17, 1977. As I changed her diaper and prepared to feed her, the radio played </span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Elvis songs and reported that he had died on August 16, 1977 at the age of 42.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">11. Diana Spencer married Prince Charles on July 29, 1981. Even though it was the middle of the night here in Texas, I saw them marry live on TV. I was awake and sitting in the recliner with false labor. Zack was born 20 days later on August 18, 1981---two days before my 3oth birthday.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWQTdsj2zI/AAAAAAAAAA8/iR36LgjEJqY/s1600-h/diana%27s+wedding.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351842396263144242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWQTdsj2zI/AAAAAAAAAA8/iR36LgjEJqY/s320/diana%27s+wedding.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Other events that stand out: The day of the ATF siege on Mount Carmel in Waco---1993. Clu Flu came home from church where he learned of the ATF attack that day.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Oklahoma City bombing--April 19, 1995. I was a hospice nurse at the time...I had been to two funerals that morning and was speaking at a Minister's group over lunch. One of the ministers came in to the luncheon, reporting the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. It is one of the most horrendous crimes I have ever know.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">O. J. Simpson verdict of "not guilty." Three of us went to a co-worker's home for lunch and to watch the expected verdict on TV. (October, 1995)</span></strong></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN8cDQLII/AAAAAAAAAA0/NZwJP2L5TFY/s1600-h/ojsimpson.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351839801661205634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vr2MVPQ9G-g/SkWN8cDQLII/AAAAAAAAAA0/NZwJP2L5TFY/s320/ojsimpson.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Columbine, 1999: I was driving home from the law firm and heard the announcement on the radio. It was devastating. I had to pull over, gain my composure before continuing my way home. It is one of the most horrendous crimes I have ever known.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">September 11, 2001.....Driving into work at the law firm that morning, hearing that a plane had "crashed into the side of one of the Towers", then continuing to hear about the other crashes. I was on a phone conference with a potential client, when he told me that he was worried about his wife who was a flight attendant. He didn't know where she was flying that day...she had been in the Northeast for two days. He was crying when his cell phone rang...It was his wife saying she was okay, the flight she was on was in Chicago and they were preparing to land. She resigned that day.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">More significant events will come to pass. We will remember them and remark about them at different times. These events impact all our lives---that is why we remember them. Our history prepares our future. </span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4492526613143450589.post-67660288809604009822009-06-25T20:19:00.002-05:002009-06-25T20:24:01.716-05:00First Of All<strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;">Hello, Everyone---When I changed my e-mail address, something happened to "presently, said irene." I haven't had the chance to figure out what transpired, but I will. Maybe "Irene" is kaput.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;">But here is my fresh, new blog. Let me know what you think. Time spent formatting this blog used my available time for a post. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;">Stay loose,</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;">D</span></strong>Dianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00980793523099331210noreply@blogger.com1