There is much I could say about getting out tomorrow and voting (if you haven’t already) but I think I will let this video of Old Glory and Celine Dion say it for me (yes, I know Ms Dion is Canadian, but Kate Smith’s version just didn’t do it for me).
No matter who you support, please say a prayer today for the safety of our leaders and for our country. And thank your Higher Power for the freedom to vote and worship as you please.
God Bless America.
http://www.ra2.biz/yellowribbon/American_Sounds/God_Bless_America.mp3
Monday, November 3, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
GUEST BLOG
(From Sister K this morning)
Last night Big B and I were watching tv on our brand-new plasma flat screen. It's the one in the bedroom, having been transfered there after Big B decided it wasn't big enough for the den, where he likes to watch the Rangers lose yet another baseball game. Mind you that we still have harvest gold shag carpet in the house from the 1970s, but when it comes to the latest electronics or getting the driveway re-paved, the sky's the limit with Big B. But that's another blog...
Anyway, Big B had just left the room to make his nightly Pimm's cup (thanks, Racie and Paco) when suddenly the flat screen in the bedroom fell partly off its mounting on the wall. I ran over to it and valiantly tried to save it from crashing to the floor while frantically screaming for Big B to come help me. When he realized that his 42" flat screen (it completely overshadows anything else in the room) was about to become a pile of broken glass and computer chips, he raced back into the room and saved it.
As we were standing there looking at the tv turned sideways on the wall, we were scratching our heads and wondering how this could have happened. Big B had used industrial-strength bolts engineered to the exact specifications for supporting the tv until the pyramids crumble. He turned to me and said, "What could have caused this? Maybe there was an earthquake." I looked pityingly at him and said, "Sure. We had an earthquake in Dallas, Texas. And pigs were flying as it was happening."
Flash forward to this morning as I was drinking my morning coffee while perusing the newspaper. I had the tv on as background noise when I suddenly heard the word "earthquake" uttered by the news anchor. Seems there was a very rare and unexpected earthquake that had occurred in Dallas the night before. I ran to my computer and went to the television station's website. Under news stories was the caption "Earthquakes Jolt North Texas." Who knew?
I had to make an apologetic and sheepish phone call to Big B at the office this morning, begging his forgiveness for being such a naysayer. After listening to me grovel for a few minutes, he accepted my apology and said, "At least the driveway didn't crack and the new pool filtration system seems to be working okay." I hung up the phone and went back to vacuuming the shag carpet.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
MY KARMA RAN OVER YOUR DOGMA
Last Saturday I went to a Pilates class at my gym, having reached my threshold of weigh-lifting and cardio exercise and looking for a change of pace. I was greeted at the door by Linda, the friendly instructor, and a warm and unthreatening room full of like-minded individuals. The hour that ensued was tough and my abs were screaming by the end of class but I felt renewed in body and spirit. You have to love the Y. It’s so democratic and down-to-earth in a touchy-feely sort of way. I was ready for more of the same.
Last night I decided to try the yoga class, as I was starting to crave more endorphins and had missed my 5:30 am work out yesterday morning. So off I went to the 6:30 pm yoga class, my matt stuffed into my gym bag, looking all hip and earthy in my yoga pants and spandex top.
I like to be early to any exercise class, believing it is rude to show up late when the class has already started. It’s disruptive and can throw off the pace of the class. So ten minutes early, I turned the door knob and walked in all smiley-faced, ready to befriend everyone in the room.
Suspicion and mistrust met me at the door and stopped me in my tracks. Conversation ceased mid-sentence. The fox had just wandered into the hen house. Sarah Palin had just burst into an anti-NRA meeting. I was the OUTSIDER obviously there to disrupt the natural flow of karma and happiness so carefully fashioned by Sunshine Wheatgrass, the yoga instructor. I headed for the furthest corner of the room and tried to make myself invisible.
Not satisfied with my anonymity, Sunshine began by telling me to remove my socks. Then to sit up straight and that I did not have my yoga blanket folded correctly. The whole blanket-folding issue became a centerpiece of her class. Her premise was that a neatly folded blanket, smooth seam to the front and fringe seam to the back, represents order, neatness and purity of mind and body. Fine, except she went on and on about it for the entire class. I’m all for neatness and purity of mind and body but this went far beyond that mantra. I secretly decided that Sunshine was OCD and this was all about control and no wire hangers and Lord knows what else. Was she locked in a closet as a child? Forced to eat creamed spinach on toast? Switched at birth? My mind began to wander. I understood now why the room went silent when I walked in earlier. Newbies endangered the order of Sunshine's tiny universe and had the potential for introducing unacceptable thoughts and behaviors. And badly folded yoga blankets. I made a mental note to blog about this the next day.
Suddenly I was forced back to reality by Sunshine’s unrelenting focus on me. In front of the entire class I was asked to run down my medical history, starting with any surgeries I might have had that would impact my performance. I told her about my back surgery and she asked “What age were you when you had your surgery?” When I answered I was in my early forties at the time, she said “Oh, okay. So not recently. You’ll be fine.” I was crushed. I could no longer pass for early 40-something. I was an aging hippy, bent over and arthritic. Someone who wears gym socks to yoga class, does not know how to fold her yoga blanket and prefers Frito pies to musli. No wonder I was Sarah Palin in yoga pants. Clearly I had not washed away my sins and did not possess a pure mind and body. Pure minds and bodies do not eat Frito pie washed down with frozen margaritas. I was a dismal failure.
Class finally began with Sunshine singing a delightful, if somewhat off-key, yoga warm-up song in Sanskrit. Her voice was a cross between Yoko Ono and Dolly Parton, and not in a good way. It was high and shrill and I had no idea what she was saying but it sounded official and very exotic. Once the sing song was dispensed with, Sunshine began pacing the room, speaking in tongues while checking everyone’s form, pushing and pulling rogue arms and legs that were not positioned to her strict standards. I dutifully performed the Downward Dog, Lotus and Half Moon poses, all the time looking at my watch and wishing I was at home with Paco.
At one point Sunshine told all of us to straighten our legs, knees and arms and reach over as far as possible. She said “And for all of you cheaters who are wearing baggy yoga pants, I can tell whether or not you’re performing the pose correctly or not.” I looked around and realized I was the only one wearing baggy yoga pants. Oh dear. Shamed and humiliated in yoga class by Sunshine Wheatgrass. What could be worse, except maybe showing up for Jack LaLane’s exercise class smoking a Camel and hung over. No, this was worse.
Class finally ended and suddenly Sunshine was happy and all smiles, thanking everyone for attending and inviting us all back next time for more fun and torture. I fled to my car and drove home, vowing to stick to weights and Pilates. When I got home Paco was cooking dinner and asked about my class and did I want a glass of wine? “Yes, please” I said. “That was not exactly what I was expecting. I think I prefer Pilates over yoga. Sunshine was so mean.” Paco laughed and gave me a kiss. “Sweetheart, I’m just glad you take such good care of yourself” he said. “Go relax and drink you wine and I will call you when dinner’s ready.”
I will take Paco’s good karma over Sunshine’s bad dogma any day.
Last night I decided to try the yoga class, as I was starting to crave more endorphins and had missed my 5:30 am work out yesterday morning. So off I went to the 6:30 pm yoga class, my matt stuffed into my gym bag, looking all hip and earthy in my yoga pants and spandex top.
I like to be early to any exercise class, believing it is rude to show up late when the class has already started. It’s disruptive and can throw off the pace of the class. So ten minutes early, I turned the door knob and walked in all smiley-faced, ready to befriend everyone in the room.
Suspicion and mistrust met me at the door and stopped me in my tracks. Conversation ceased mid-sentence. The fox had just wandered into the hen house. Sarah Palin had just burst into an anti-NRA meeting. I was the OUTSIDER obviously there to disrupt the natural flow of karma and happiness so carefully fashioned by Sunshine Wheatgrass, the yoga instructor. I headed for the furthest corner of the room and tried to make myself invisible.
Not satisfied with my anonymity, Sunshine began by telling me to remove my socks. Then to sit up straight and that I did not have my yoga blanket folded correctly. The whole blanket-folding issue became a centerpiece of her class. Her premise was that a neatly folded blanket, smooth seam to the front and fringe seam to the back, represents order, neatness and purity of mind and body. Fine, except she went on and on about it for the entire class. I’m all for neatness and purity of mind and body but this went far beyond that mantra. I secretly decided that Sunshine was OCD and this was all about control and no wire hangers and Lord knows what else. Was she locked in a closet as a child? Forced to eat creamed spinach on toast? Switched at birth? My mind began to wander. I understood now why the room went silent when I walked in earlier. Newbies endangered the order of Sunshine's tiny universe and had the potential for introducing unacceptable thoughts and behaviors. And badly folded yoga blankets. I made a mental note to blog about this the next day.
Suddenly I was forced back to reality by Sunshine’s unrelenting focus on me. In front of the entire class I was asked to run down my medical history, starting with any surgeries I might have had that would impact my performance. I told her about my back surgery and she asked “What age were you when you had your surgery?” When I answered I was in my early forties at the time, she said “Oh, okay. So not recently. You’ll be fine.” I was crushed. I could no longer pass for early 40-something. I was an aging hippy, bent over and arthritic. Someone who wears gym socks to yoga class, does not know how to fold her yoga blanket and prefers Frito pies to musli. No wonder I was Sarah Palin in yoga pants. Clearly I had not washed away my sins and did not possess a pure mind and body. Pure minds and bodies do not eat Frito pie washed down with frozen margaritas. I was a dismal failure.
Class finally began with Sunshine singing a delightful, if somewhat off-key, yoga warm-up song in Sanskrit. Her voice was a cross between Yoko Ono and Dolly Parton, and not in a good way. It was high and shrill and I had no idea what she was saying but it sounded official and very exotic. Once the sing song was dispensed with, Sunshine began pacing the room, speaking in tongues while checking everyone’s form, pushing and pulling rogue arms and legs that were not positioned to her strict standards. I dutifully performed the Downward Dog, Lotus and Half Moon poses, all the time looking at my watch and wishing I was at home with Paco.
At one point Sunshine told all of us to straighten our legs, knees and arms and reach over as far as possible. She said “And for all of you cheaters who are wearing baggy yoga pants, I can tell whether or not you’re performing the pose correctly or not.” I looked around and realized I was the only one wearing baggy yoga pants. Oh dear. Shamed and humiliated in yoga class by Sunshine Wheatgrass. What could be worse, except maybe showing up for Jack LaLane’s exercise class smoking a Camel and hung over. No, this was worse.
Class finally ended and suddenly Sunshine was happy and all smiles, thanking everyone for attending and inviting us all back next time for more fun and torture. I fled to my car and drove home, vowing to stick to weights and Pilates. When I got home Paco was cooking dinner and asked about my class and did I want a glass of wine? “Yes, please” I said. “That was not exactly what I was expecting. I think I prefer Pilates over yoga. Sunshine was so mean.” Paco laughed and gave me a kiss. “Sweetheart, I’m just glad you take such good care of yourself” he said. “Go relax and drink you wine and I will call you when dinner’s ready.”
I will take Paco’s good karma over Sunshine’s bad dogma any day.
Monday, October 27, 2008
MUSIC MONDAY
In the absence of anything truly earth-shaking to impart to my Kool-Aid Drinkers, I decided instead to start out the week with a lovely song and a photo Paco took when we were on a trip to Sea Island, Georgia a few years ago. I hope you enjoy it, and Happy Monday. http://www.oti.ripside.com/music/05-Home.mp3
Friday, October 24, 2008
CALLING ALL FOLLOWERS
Miss Thystle asked me today about adding one of those fancy gadgets to my blog so folks can follow the fun and not miss a single earth-shattering thing I have to say. According to the instuctions on Dashboard: you should put your followers widget at the top of your sidebar so more readers will notice it. Many readers ignore sidebar items so by writing a post about your followers widget and moving the widget to the top of your sidebar, you will inevitably grow your audience. " Since I certainly want to grow my audience not to mention appear to be a technical genius, I decided to follow those instructions to the letter and write a post about becoming one of my Followers.So now any of you who want to hang on my every word can do so easily just by becoming a Kool-Aid Drinker. Despite the ominous tone and potential for lasting psychological damage the moniker suggests, I encourage you to take the plunge. I promise to do my part and bring you nothing but the very finest journalism has offer (in my limited sphere).
MY FIRST-EVER CONTEST GIVEAWAY
If anyone happened to be watching CNN this morning (the part that was NOT about the stock market debacle) maybe you saw a blurb about the Vote glass program being hosted by a certain beer emporium chain. Every time you buy either an Obama or McCain glass you cast a vote for that candidate, and here's the best part: you can vote as many times as you like!
I happen to have connections with this establishment and personally know the designer of the glasses, so I decided to hold my very first contest giveaway and whoever wins gets to pick which glass they would like to have and I will mail it out first thing. Now here's the best part: if you put my link on your blog I will send you both glasses, or two of the same one.
Just complete the following sentence for your chance to win:
If I could change my name I would change it to__________________
because______________.
The winner will be on Election Day. Good luck everybody!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
THE LITTLE BLUE PILL
FTC BUSTS 'WORLD'S LARGEST SPAM OPERATION'
Group e-mailed promotions for prescription drugs, 'male enhancement' pills
CHICAGO - Federal authorities in Chicago say they've shut down one of the largest spam e-mail operations in the world. The Federal Trade Commission says the group generated e-mails promoting sales of prescription drugs and "male enhancement" pills.
Now that the SPAM folks are supposedly out of business, I vote to hire Blue Man to be the spokespersons for The Little Blue Pill. I think a man need only look at their round, blue, smooth heads to be instantly reminded that it's "time to take my pill!" Imagine, never having to worry about that again right before heading out for the evening with your Trophy Wife?!
(editor's note: where are their ears?)
Group e-mailed promotions for prescription drugs, 'male enhancement' pills
CHICAGO - Federal authorities in Chicago say they've shut down one of the largest spam e-mail operations in the world. The Federal Trade Commission says the group generated e-mails promoting sales of prescription drugs and "male enhancement" pills.
Now that the SPAM folks are supposedly out of business, I vote to hire Blue Man to be the spokespersons for The Little Blue Pill. I think a man need only look at their round, blue, smooth heads to be instantly reminded that it's "time to take my pill!" Imagine, never having to worry about that again right before heading out for the evening with your Trophy Wife?!
(editor's note: where are their ears?)
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