Thursday, Aug. 30, 2012

I find it odd…and yet…not…how when one is under extreme stress with seemingly improbable odds stacked against them, that person could adopt a serene calm.  Not always, but sometimes….

Such has been the case with me over the past few weeks.  For the past year, my life has been in a chaotic whirl heavily laden with stress and emotional turmoil.  Why?  Because just after my 27^th anniversary, my husband announced he was divorcing me. 

Yes, my world crashed.  Won’t go into the details other than to say that my normally in-control emotional state was anything but over the months that followed.  But all that’s behind me now.  My ex and I decided, right from the start, that we would divorce on the best terms possible.  And we have.

I must admit that this is not how I expected me life to be rolling right now.  But then, I’m a Phoenix.  Though I may end up in the ashes, singed and battered, I do manage to pull myself up.  With my divorce I have maintained that mentality. 

A girlfriend, who was also going through her own divorce, offered helpful advice.  She told me to just accept that over the ensuing year to three following the divorce announcement, I’d find myself not in control of my emotions.  That I’d be happy one minute, insightful the next, dissolved to tears a moment after that and the emotional storm would rage on till…till…well…till it was time for it to end.

Today was that day!   Why, because I got to take possession of the keys to my new house.  Rather than wallow in the turn my life took, I decided, yes, I had a choice, to pick up the tattered pieces of what once was, dust off what I could salvage, lay to rest the remaining bits and move forward with the positive-hold-no-grudges attitude I aspire to live my life by. 

As a friend was helping me unload my son’s bedroom set I purchased from a mutual girlfriend, I paused, my spirit lighter than it had been in…months.  What caused that reaction?  I heard the crashing of the ocean waves from my new driveway.  Choking up, I thought of all who had made this day—my dream-of-living-at-the-beach—come true.  Top of that list were my grandparents, both of whom I’ve lost over the past two years. 

Those grandparents had a passion for the beach matched only by my father’s and my own.  In each of us dwelled an undeniable urge to be soothed by the ocean.  To gaze out over her splendor and be lulled by the melody of her waves.  My grandparent’s lived the majority of their lives on island homes while my father spent the remaining years of his life near the ocean. 

As I stood on the tailgate of that truck this evening, my emotions poured over, realizing that I was the last living one of the four of us with that insatiable lust for the ocean.  I thought of how grateful I was/am to each of them for instilling in me such a thirst and appreciation for nature.

I’m taking a brief pause to write this.  Then I’ll resume moving some items.  Once I finish unloading the smaller items I’ve brought ahead of the movers, who will relocate me this Saturday, I’ll offer respect to those family members to whom I’m most grateful for the awesomeness of today’s events.  How will I do that?  I’ll walk onto the beach, go down on my knees and gaze up at the stars shining down on me, assured that three of them represent my father and grandparents.  And then I’ll give thanks.  For all that they were….  All that they shared with me….  All that they taught me….  But most of all, I’ll give thanks for who they were!    

Wednesday, Aug. 29, 2012

Earthquake season.  Here in southern California, it’s a way of life.  For six to eight weeks each year, the extreme heat and humidity cause pressure to be released from our fault lines.  Some might freak out by this, but not me.  I enjoy earthquakes—well, the littler ones.  My motto: so long as a building isn’t lying atop me in the end, I’m good with earthquakes. 

I was just on the phone, scheduling an install.  The rep with whom I spoke was from another state and was frightened and fascinated when I told her that I’d just experienced an earthquake while talking with her.  My oldest daughter, who’s here visiting from Arizona, came running in the room and informed me that she was over earthquakes and was leaving to head back to Arizona where the ground didn’t shake.

LOL.

I was still on the phone at the time.  The rep overheard and concurred with my daughter.  Then she told me she’d never spoken to anyone as they experienced an earthquake.  She did share how she’d been on the phone when people politely told her they’d have to call her back since a tornado was heading towards them.

What?!

That made me laugh and I joked that, yes, it was probably best for those folks to wait to schedule an install to see if they’d still have a house after the tornado touched down.

Oh, my!

Listening to the rep’s reaction to my calm acceptance of the earthquake and how others were calm about the tornadoes headed their way, made me realize just how adaptive we are.  How we really can become accustomed to living in the strangest situations.  How we adopt them as our “norm.”

So, though I expressed to the rep that I’d experienced a tornado and soooo wasn’t a fan, I’ll continue to roll with my earthquakes, knowing they’re a common part of living in southern California.

Tuesday, Aug. 28, 2012

While in the house earlier today, my oldest son came running in and told me I needed to come outside with his friend and him.  He was so overflowing with enthusiasm that I began following him before asking what was outside.  He responded there was a magnificent double rainbow that was huge.

Stepping out the front door and looking in the direction I saw my son’s friend gazing, I was greeted by what you see in this photo.  I haven’t enhanced the colors.  What you see is what Mother Nature gifted those of us fortunate enough to witness.

Last time my son and I saw double rainbows this large and brilliant was at Lake Mead when he had just graduated middle school—eleven years ago!  Here’s hoping we don’t have to wait that long to see the next ones….

Monday, Aug. 27, 2012

I recall when online services first became available.  How I was reluctant to use them, not wanting to have all my personal information “out there.”  For a long time, I only used online services when absolutely necessary.  But now, I find myself wondering how the heck anyone managed to get things done without the benefit of online convenience. 

Used to be that we’d have to frequent businesses in person to sign up for services or get things done, when now we can do so from the comfort of our own homes…on our own time table…and not feel pressured to conform our schedule around that of when businesses are opened or not.  Again, how did we manage to fit everything into our days before online convenience?

So, I’m curious how others feel about online services.  Do most now subscribe to simplify their lives?  Are there those who are still holding out, hesitant, as I was, to put all their personal information out there?  To those who are making the most of online services, what have been your experiences with them?  Have you been pleased or frustrated?  

Sunday, Aug. 26, 2012

I’ve always been big on maintaining items I have rather than subscribing to programmed obsolescence.  Along that note, the other day, I noticed something had spilled on one of my satin covered lampshades.  Not wanting to toss it since it goes with a matching set of other lampshades, I wondered if I might be able to wash it.  After all, it was made of fabric that was all stitched together.

Taking a chance, I filled the sink with cold water and added some gentle laundry detergent.  Then I submerged the lampshade, rotating it to get all of it washed.  And you know what?  The stain came right off.  Not only that, but also all dust did as well!  Then I hung the lampshade outside where it could spin in the gentle breeze and be evenly dried by the direct sunlight to avoid further moisture stains. By the time I was done, I was so thrilled with the resulting might-as-well-have-been-new lampshade that I decided to wash my other matching lampshades. 

Love how on a whim, I tried to solve a problem and figured a way to revitalize perfectly good lampshades!   

Saturday, Aug. 25, 2012

“You can discover the right information at the right time today.”  I don’t recall where I saw this quote or who said it, but I liked it enough to make a note of it.  Seems like a straightforward enough mentality.  But then, things are seldom as they appear.  Let’s take a closer look….

Each and every day, folks seek information.   Some succeed.  Some fail.  Some come close, falling just short their mark.  So what causes some to reach their goal while others are forced to peer at success through the staggered slats in life’s fence?

Timing….  I believe it all comes down to timing.  If a person’s not ready to learn the truth about a situation or absorb some new bit of information, then they’ll likely be blinded to that reality.  But…if the timing’s right, and the person is actively seeking, then information has an ironic way of congealing into something solid enough for one to grasp rather than some vague figment of the mind.

Though we have the almighty Internet at our disposal, information is useless if a person is unwilling or unable to process such knowledge.  After all, we’re only human.  As such, we’re incapable of processing formation that we’re not emotionally, mentally or physically equipped to gain.  Were we computers, the situation might be different.  But we’re limited to what we are, so, we must manage expectations by accepting our limitations.

This isn’t to say that we should look for cop-outs or opportunities to bail on things we should do.  By managing our expectations and accepting that we can only discover the right information at the right time, we open doors for better understanding that might otherwise be closed.  Why?  Because we’re actively seeking new information with an accepting spirit.

Some of that information will seep into the finer nuances of our being.  Others will barely brush the surface, but all, if we’re willing and accepting, will touch us in some manner…and in the right time.               

Friday, Aug. 24, 2012

There’s something extra cool about “worker bees” that go about their tasks with a smile and positive attitude rather than begrudging that there’s work to be done.  Interacting with them makes any task more enjoyable.  In addition, time seems to speed by rather than drudge along at a snail’s pace. 

In my ongoing effort to de-clutter, yes, I’m aware that I’ve been doing and blogging a lot about that lately, I found myself, along with my twenty-five-year-old son and another young man, in our storage units, where, despite the heat, and the fact the units have no AC, the three of us spent three and a half hours sorting through, moving, relocating and climbing over, on top of and around a wide range of items.  Most of the items were heavy and covered in dust that clung to our sweat-covered bodies like a second skin, clogging our pours, thus inhibiting our ability to properly cool ourselves.

But throughout the experience, all three of us maintained positive attitudes, smiled, were pleasant with one another and kept a stream of jokes rolling to keep things light.  By the time we finished, my son and I commented to one another how the task, though physically draining, hadn’t been too bad.  How everyone’s pleasant, willing-to-dig-in-and-get-the-job-done-with-a-smile attitude had made for an easier time of the work.   

Thursday, Aug. 23, 2012

In my ongoing quest to de-clutter, I’ve made an interesting and somewhat disturbing discovery.  Closets are the exact antithesis of a black hole.  Why?  Simple.  If a black hole is someplace where things that enter get sucked into oblivion never to be seen again, then closets have no business being called black holes.  Why?  Because the items contained within multiply at such an alarming rate that before you know it, taking said items out of the closet could seriously jeopardize the square footage of the adjoining room.  And, in extreme circumstances, there wouldn’t be enough space in the adjoining room to house all the “stuff” pulled out of that closet.

My closet cleaning made me think of my stepmother, a lovely woman who’s house could pass the most rigorous white glove inspection.  Well…it could…so long as the one doing the inspecting didn’t risk life and limb, opening certain closet doors that revealed meticulously stacked items, which closely resembled strata rock layers, the date of when certain items had been wedged into the closet evident by which strata layer it was in.

LOL.

I was a teenager before I learned this “secret” about my stepmother’s housecleaning/organizational skills.  Funny thing was, when she absent-mindedly opened one of said stuffed-to-the-gills closets without thinking, I caught a glimpse of its interior.  My stepmother turned every imaginable shade of mortified red while I stood there in awe of the magnificent stacking job she’d done.  I was mesmerized by how in the heck the items in the closet, many of which might well have predated the dinosaurs, managed to remain in the closet, for they were so tightly crammed in, that one would think they’d be spring-loaded and explode like an opened can of prank snakes when an unsuspecting person opened the closet door.

Over the years of owning houses, I’ve jokingly said that, at times, any walk-in closet I had more closely resembled reach-in closets, for the volume of items contained within them prohibited me from actually stepping into the closet.  This hasn’t always been the case.  Whenever I notice my walk-in closets at risk of becoming reach-ins, a vision of my stepmother’s archeological dig closets comes to mind.  That’s when I set to de-cluttering them.  Course, at first glance, this seems like a simple enough task.  But then I begin pulling items out of the closet and am astounded by just how much “stuff” is contained within.  And that’s when I know…though I didn’t live with my stepmother daily, apparently, I was around her enough to have her overflowing closet tendency rub off on me—somewhat.  Some might think I’d get frustrated with this.  I don’t.  Instead, knowing that I share a common trait with my stepmother makes me smile.        

Wednesday, Aug. 22, 2012

The facilitator to my writing critique group once explained how she never manages to se bad drivers and how her husband always seems to spot them.  As a group, we discussed the possible reasons for this.  Then my facilitator summed it up rather nicely by stating that when one looks for negative things, they’re likely to find them.  She, however, doesn’t actively look for bad drivers or other negative things, so tends to be blinded to their existence. 

On one hand, this seems a blissful way to live.  Course, one could also end up in a car collision or worse with this mentality. 

LOL.

But seriously, I like the mentality of my facilitator.  How she focuses her energy on the positive rather than looking for negative and trouble when doing so is oft unnecessary and unproductive.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve thought a lot about that night when my critique group, facilitator and I all shared our thoughts on this subject.  As I’ve pondered and smiled over how positive my facilitator is, I’ve made myself more aware of what others look for.  Are they actively seeking the negatives?  Or are they devoting their time and energy to more positive avenues?  And of those I’ve observed, which ones seem to be happier?   My findings weren’t surprising—least not to me.  The individuals who seek the positive rather than dwelling on or actively seeking life’s negatives were far more relaxed, seemed more at peace and smiled far more than the others.  And for me, that’s conviction enough that my facilitator has the right mentality.

Tuesday, Aug. 21, 2012

I wonder, is there any such thing as a bureaucracy that isn’t dysfunctional?  This thought occurred to me, as I was frustrated trying to register my son for high school earlier today.  Currently, he’s visiting family out-of-state, so I was to register for him.  Two weeks ago, we called and were told that would be fine, as long as I had the completed packet with me.  I did. 

Arriving at the school in heat reminiscent of a humid convection oven, I stood in line and had a few of the forms taken from me and filed.  Arriving at the third station, I was told that I didn’t have the passport registration form.  I mentioned that according to the paperwork the school had sent, I was to get that in the line I was currently in.  That’s when the “fun” began.

That woman smiled and told me that, no, I needed to go stand in a half-hour-long line to get said passport from the main office, despite it being printed that here is where I was to get it.  Not being a mind reader and not wanting to be unpleasant, I smiled at the woman and told her thanks for the info and that I’d be back.

I went the end of that line and sweated my way through the next half hour without any aid of shade, only to be told when I reached the head of the line that as of this year, parents would not be allowed to register for their kids.

What?!

I explained how my son was out-of-state and we’d called two weeks back to make sure it would be all right for me to register him, as I’ve done other times with my other kids.  The woman repeated that I would not be able to register for him.  That he had to do so in person.  When I asked when and where that information had been posted so we might have been made a ware, I was told, “Oh, I don’t know, but I’m sure it showed up somewhere.”

Really?  Did she just brush me off in such a flippant manner?

At this point, I had to return to reclaim the forms that had already been taken from me.  Ironically, when I showed up at one of the stations, the exact woman who had received that form from me told me she had “no idea where she’d put it.”

OMG, is she kidding?

Counting to ten and smiling at the woman, I waited patiently after encouraging her to look again.  That it had to be there since I’d just given it to her.  The woman finally found the missing form and handed it back to me but not before chit-chatting with the other woman at nearby stations about if they were aware that parents couldn’t register for their kids this year.  One of the women, a mom I assumed, smacked her bubble gum noisily and said, “Oh, yeah, I think I heard something about that.”

Did I mention this was the same woman who had also taken one of my forms?  The very form I handed her to register for my son?

Good grief talk about being inept!

Heading home, armed with the needed registration forms, I called my son and explained that he would have to register himself.  Course, he was upset, having been completely on top of making sure I’d get him registered, even going so far as to send me a friendly wakeup text about it early this morning.  It was then that I got to wondering….

 My junior son was capable of being more organized than the bureaucratic process necessary to register him for school.  So…if an eleventh-grader is more organized than the adults who collectively comprise the bureaucratic process, then what chance do we stand of expecting much from said bureaucracy when it comes to educating our kids, much less getting them properly registered?  Also, due to the disorganization, I had to wonder, is there any such thing as a bureaucracy that isn’t dysfunctional?   

Monday, Aug. 20, 2012

Here’s another thought inspired by a fortune I pulled from a cookie.  Opening ourselves up to others helps to broaden our realizations.  How?  By surrounding ourselves with a host of individuals from a variety of backgrounds, we expand our knowledge of the world, how people interact with one another and also the perceptions others hold.  What better way to experience the world than by allowing a plethora of nuances from others to season our understanding? 

Sunday, Aug. 19, 2012

Since as long as I can recall, I adore giving others a second chance.  Whether they are people or animals, I believe that unless otherwise proved to me, most possess the ability to do better.  To rise above.  To prove what they’re made of…if…only someone will give them the chance. 

Over the past year, I’ve been frequenting Goodwill Thrift Stores for needed items.  Along that path, I made an interesting discovery.  The employees who work at the Goodwill are amongst some of the most sincere, helpful, cheerful individuals I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with.  Since I’ve been in several of the stores with such frequency, some of the employees and I have gotten to know one another. 

Yesterday, one of those, a young man who can never quite do enough, be polite enough or wear a big enough happy smile, revealed how grateful he was to have been given a second chance in life.  How he’d spent some of his youth in a group home.  How had it not been for a few individuals who were willing to see past his then harsh exterior and show him another path, he never would have made it.  How he was beyond grateful for the chance to work at Goodwill.  How the company treats him with respect rather than judging him for his past.  That made me nod my approval.

This young man isn’t the first who’s shared a similar past with me.  And to those who have felt safe enough to open up to me, I’m beyond grateful.  In addition, I stand in awe of their insatiable spirit to rise above.  How inspiring it is to see others who just want to be given a chance to prove themselves…to others and to themselves.

Whenever I come across individuals such as the young man at Goodwill, I offer them my respect.  How do I do that?  Easy.  I give them my time.  I pause whatever I’m doing and listen to them, really hear what they have to share.  The way I see it, what better way can I show how proud I am of another’s efforts than by taking the time to acknowledge them?

Saturday, Aug. 18, 2012

In life, we have two choices.  We can opt to navigate life’s waters, burning bridges as we go, or we can weather the more tumultuous waters, maintaining an air of dignity and grace, treating those around us with respect.

At times, the latter may prove challenging.  A task we’re not up to.  But…if we take a deep breath and maintain the high road rather than lashing out by saying or doing things that may come back to haunt us, we’re able to hold our heads high.  Doesn’t mean things will go our way.  Or that life won’t kick us around. 

I believe life is a test of weathering storms.  Of seeing how well we’re able to conduct ourselves.  Are we quick to throw in the towel?  Do we flare to anger rather than quietly listen to what’s said to us?  Are we willing to have life’s lessons sink in?  Or do we react defensively, shutting out any possibility of personal growth?  Do we alienate those around us, believing them expendable?  Or do we value individuals for the unique contributions they lend to our lives?

Life’s all about choices.  What will yours be?    

Friday, Au. 17, 2012

There’s something heartwarming about witnessing folks who are willing to help others.  To put aside what they may want to do in order to give back to those who have helped them.  To stand by their friends or family.

Too often, this world focuses on the individual rather than what we can do for others.  It makes me beam when I see that trend broken, if only for a spell, by individuals who maintain “old-school” mentalities about helping their fellow man.

Though it may seem old-fashioned to do so, in my humble opinion, standing by those who have helped you never goes out of fashion.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Continuing the effort to de-clutter my life, I spent a good portion of this evening in my garage.  Waiting till the outdoor temperature “cooled” to a lovely (not) 97 degrees, I scaled ladders, reached over items too big to move out of the way and sorted through storage tote after storage tote full of…stuff.  So what was in those totes?  My remaining supplies from when I had a craft business years back and also an impressive collection of Easter baskets, grass, plastic eggs and decorations to make the holiday more “festive.”

I wasn’t sure if sorting through the items would make me sad or what.  Was pleasantly surprised at the journey down memory lane I took as I opened certain containers to find old craft items I’d made.  Or Easter baskets I’d created for our kids when they were young. 

Sifting through the craft items, I recalled, with fond memories, the many rainy days and other times my children and their friends would flock round me, begging to open the storage containers of craft items.  I had enough stuff in those totes to create my own craft store!  So, for a kid, the possibilities were endless.

As I went through the many containers of Easter décor, I smiled, recalling the fun my children had while setting up Easter villages I’d hand crafted when they were younger.  Or how they’d lovingly placed ceramic Easter decorations wherever they wanted to help stir the festive mood of the holiday.

Knowing the containers would unlock memories, I’d somewhat hesitated to go through them.  Aware that I’d be doing so alone didn’t help matters.  But not being one to shy away from a task, I dug in.  To my surprise, I enjoyed the process of de-cluttering.  Loading eleven 33-gallon trash bags full of items to be donated gave me a warm-all-over feeling, for I knew that rather than continuing to sit in my garage, the items would now be made available to those who would put them to good use. 

Despite the scorching temperatures I endured during my de-cluttering the garage, the project ended on a positive note.  Why?  For one simple reason.  What could be better than taking a stroll down memory lane and then being able to share items with others?      

Wednesday, Aug. 15, 2012

Not sure if I mentioned before how I have a jar of fortune cookie sayings that have impacted me.  I keep this jar on my desk where I frequently look at the sayings contained within.  A matching jar sits across my office.  In that jar are the fortunes that I’ve blogged about.  Reading through my fortunes today, I figured it was time to add another to the jar of ones blogged about. 

This fortune was simple.   It said: You find beauty in ordinary things.  Do not lose this ability.  When I originally got the fortune, I was struck with wondering how many folks are capable of this or…amongst those who are capable, how many take the time to do so. 

We live in a hustle-bustle world where the name of the game, for many, is to keep up with the Jones.  Everywhere one looks, we’re inundated with images that try to pressure us into buying more, expanding, being unsatisfied with the things we have that work perfectly well, instead being told they’re expendable and we’d be happier if only we had something bigger/better.

I come from a long line of individuals who took the time to see beauty in simple things.  By doing so, they, myself included, were able to rejuvenate old forgotten items that others had thrown away or wanted to sell for a discounted price. 

I’m currently at a point in my life where I’m massively de-cluttering.  Shedding tons of items acquired over my lifetime.  Some might think this would make me sad.  It doesn’t.  Instead, it makes it easier for me to focus on the beauty contained in the simpler things life offers.  How less is more.  How applying a little glue, elbow grease or whatever to make something that’s old new again brings me immense pleasure.  But most of all, I’m rediscovering the sheer joy of being able to see the majority of tabletop surfaces, empty wall space and large expanses of floor uncluttered by a lifetime of “stuff.”  Guess you could say I’m in a massive spring-cleaning mode where my aim is to focus on the beauty contained in ordinary things.    

Tuesday, Aug. 14, 2012

Maintaining reasonable expectations and acknowledging when folks make an effort are both great mentalities to remember when interacting with others.  Though this seems straightforward enough to be common sense, I’ve noticed how many forget these simple standards.

Let’s start with maintaining reasonable expectations.  Oh, the woes that could be avoided or downgraded if only this practice was followed more regularly!  Think about it.  If you have something you want/need done in a specific manner, then why not share with the class rather than expecting them to be mind readers?  It only take moments extra to convey what you want/need done and how, whereas it takes an inordinate amount of time, effort and energy to get upset when things don’t run smoothly and you’re left to scramble at the eleventh hour.

Next, acknowledging the effort folks make to get things done or to please us, in my humble opinion, requires nothing less than absolute recognition of their efforts.  What better way to keep a smooth-running process going than to take the time to give thanks where thanks are due?  To pause and smile at those who make an extra effort?  Go the extra mile?  Extend themselves in ways they aren’t required just to make things better for us.  And even if they are required to do those things, why not show some human compassion and thank them for their efforts?

So oft, people get caught up in the hectic hustle and bustle of life’s whirlwind to the point of forgetting how simplistic it is to simplify certain aspects of our lives.  Maintaining reasonable expectations and acknowledging when folks make an effort are both great means by which we can make more sense of that whirlwind and spin in more accordance with what would best serve us.  Our needs.  Wants.  Desires.  But most of all, by exacting these mentalities and putting them into practice, we show that we’re in control of not only ourselves but also of exacting a better outcome. 

Monday, Aug. 13, 2012

I witnessed a strange sight the other day—the lower portion of beach playgrounds buried—all but a few inches of them—in sand.  Not only was the play area buried, but also the entire level of sand along the beach had been significantly raised.  From where the waves hit the shore to the street was a good four to five feet higher than it had been!

That got me to wondering what the heck could’ve caused such a huge displacement of sand.  I asked some friends who live along those beaches and was told that dredging is the culprit.  For those unaware, as I had been, dredging is a necessary process that helps maintain the proper depth of boating routes, clear pollutants from the base of waterway floors and maintains the proper level of sand in those waterways.

Along the beach, sand is continuously drug in, wave after wave, from many miles out.  Occurring over a lengthy period, this sand eventually begins to pile up closer to the shore, which raises the water level and puts nearby structures at risk of being flooded due to the higher water levels. 

Machines called dredges are brought in to scrape that excess sand away and relocate it.  The dredged sand used to be transported a minimum of ten miles offshore—back where it belongs.  But…with the squeeze of the economy and companies and municipalities wanting to get more for their buck, this sand is now sucked up and then pumped through lengths of pipe.  And where does the end of the piping spit out the sand?  On top of the existing beaches!

This explains why I saw all but the top few inches of the beach playground buried.  Not only that, but the entire beach level had been raised four to five feet!  I asked my friend how long the process of relocating such a massive amount of sand took and was told it happened over the past year.  That didn’t seem such a long time to me.  But then I was told that it would take up to several years for the sand to be blown back into the ocean where it belongs.

Hmmm…wait a minute.  Doesn’t that mean the sand—all those tons of sand the municipalities dredged up—will end up right back along the shoreline?  And won’t that pose a risk, due to the raised water level, of nearby structures being flooded?  The answer to both questions is, yes.  So why would the municipalities dump all that sand on the beach instead of way out in the ocean as they used to?  Again, it comes down to simple mathematics.  It’s far cheaper to dump the sand atop the beaches than relocate it offshore.  Does that make it right?  Well…I’ll let you be the judge of that. 

As far as I can tell, none of the folks who own structures near the beaches in question are happy with how current dredging is being done.  And frankly, can you blame them?  After all, their beach topography is being drastically altered.  Why?  So the municipalities can save money. 

Sunday, Aug. 12, 2012

One of the outcomes of our fallen economy is how it’s forced folks to go back to the basics.  How people are rediscovering how one man’s trash can be another’s treasure. 

Before the economy collapsed, I noticed a disturbing trend of expendability.  How individuals would rather toss usable items in their garbage cans rather than donate them so someone else could resurrect and use them.  Then came tougher times.  As a result, people began go economize.  In that process, they also began to see value in items once considered expendable.  As such, instead of tossing perfectly usable items in the trash, folks began taking the time to sort through them and deliver them to donation centers that would make any necessary repairs and then place the items for sale in their thrift stores.

Watching this process play out has been heartwarming for me.  Why?  When I was a little girl, my father instilled a deep sense of valuing items.  Part of his teachings was to demonstrate how it made more sense to find needed items at thrift stores rather than pay full price at regular stores.  And often, those times found were better quality than the ones from regular stores.

Throughout my life, I’ve thrilled, yes, thrilled, in exploring thrift stores, excited over what gems I might find hidden within them.  Over the past year, I’ve frequented a major thrift store chain where I’ve found the majority of what I’ve needed.  I love the fact that I’m resurrecting old items, saving tons of money and acquiring needed objects, all of higher quality than those I could afford in regular stores.

Over the past six months, I’ve noticed I’m not alone in shopping at thrift stores.  How this particular chain has grown in such favor that they’re now expanding their store sizes while carrying even more wonderful items.  In addition, quite a few of my friends have discovered the fine art of thrift store shopping and now swear by them.

It’s satisfying to see the growing trend people discovering how one man’s trash can be another’s treasure. 

Saturday, August 11, 2012

The other day, I was out back, trying to get better cell phone reception, when I spotted a darling bright green praying mantis on the end table beside me.  He was gearing up to make a leap to the chair on the other side of that table. 

I watched as he gauged his distance, made mock trial jumps, stopped, readjusted, and then tried again.  Over and over this process played out with my dogs, Sadie and Foster, watching with as much rapt fascination as I had.  Course, they were probably hoping the poor little praying mantis would miss his mark so they could pounce on him, while I was rooting for his success. 

Took several minutes that seemed to drag into forever, but the praying mantis finally summoned enough courage to make his leap….  He was successful, landing with exact precision on the nearby chair.  Triumphant in his victory, he strutted his stuff to the highest point of the chair back and took in his surrounds.  Sadie and Foster, disappointed at their missed opportunity, walked away to find some other form of entertainment.

A short time later, as day gave way to dusk, the sky transforming to a bruised pallet, a fruit bat swooped down from his perch in a nearby tree to drink from my pool.  Watching his awkward yet graceful wobbly fluttering, I smiled.  When he dipped his tiny tongue to sip water, I found myself mesmerized by the outward spreading ringlets that he created.  The bat took three more drinks before deciding he’d had enough and flew off to hunt for dinner.

Sitting there after the bat and praying mantis had gone, I found myself giving thanks for being privilege to such wonderful sightings.  I’m aware that many never get to see what I just had.  Not that bats and praying mantis don’t exist all over.  They do.  But in some places, they feel more inclined to stay hidden from onlookers.        

Friday, Aug. 10, 2012

Got another great fortune in a cookie the other day.  It said: you will conquer obstacles to achieve success.  Got me to thinking….  Do we give enough thanks when things go well?  When, against all odds, things fall into place?  Do we appreciate when we claim little victories?  Or do we take those for granted, spending more time focusing on what didn’t go our way?

I realize the fortune meant the reader to focus on how things were going to pick up for them/me.  Things did pick up.  For that I’m beyond grateful!  And as I’ve given repeated thanks, here, there and to everyone who has supported me, I wonder if I’ve been as diligent with little successes.  Or if, like many others, life caught me up in her swirl, spinning me round and round till, on occasion all that rose to the surface were the negative things—those that had more of a hold on me.  A hold I allowed them to have by focusing on the negative rather than on how I might turn it into something more positive by giving thanks.

Seems like whenever we have a crisis or are pushed to our limits and then things take a more positive turn, we’re quick to give thanks, aware of the stark contrast and how pleasing it is to now be enjoying a respite from our woes rather than floundering in them.  But what about all the smaller accomplishments that occur in our day-to-day existence?  Those things that seem insignificant, but heaped together could bring us to our knees if they don’t go well?  Do we appropriately pause to give thanks for those?  Speaking for myself, I’m guilty of sometimes getting caught up in life’s hectic swirl to the point I gladly cling to the bonuses that come my way, failing to give proper thanks. 

Ironically, it was this fortune and the good things that have come my way since that pointed out this flaw to me.   And for that, I’m grateful, for I can now make amendments to give thanks more often, including for the smaller things.    

Thursday, August 9, 2012

In the words of my wise uncle, who also happens to be my Godfather, “It’s good to have creative venues to sink your brain into and keep it focused on tangible goals rather than on the emotional turmoil that surround you.  This makes it less likely those turmoil’s will overwhelm you.”  Couldn’t agree with my uncle more!    Though it’s oft a challenge to poke one’s head above the surface to gasp a cleansing breath in the midst of turmoil, doing so allows that individual to put things into perspective.  Redirect their focus towards other things, so as not to obsess on the stress.  It also provides a path on which the person can move forward rather than spinning out of control.

My uncle went on to add, “A good diversion is not only powerful but also an empowering tool.”  Again, wise words that I agree with wholeheartedly.  Diverting our attention from obsessing on our woes allows us to objectively see things in their actual light rather than how we’re being affected by them emotionally.  Doing so empowers us to take the necessary steps to eradicate whatever our struggles are towards a more positive outcome.

So, whenever life grabs you by the horns and attempts to steer you into the ground, fight to pull free, if only for a moment or two, in order that you might see things more clearly, redirect your focus and become empowered by your decision to take control.   

Wednesday, Aug. 8, 2012

Sometimes what matters most isn’t what a person gives but rather what they’re willing to give up.  I stumbled across this concept, which I’ve paraphrased, while reading last night.  At first glance, the saying seems redundant. It’s not.  A relationship, any relationship, is a delicate balancing act of give and take.  Of the parties involved stepping outside their own needs to see to the ones with whom they’re close.  Through those skilled dance moves, an interesting thing happens, the person’s needs—the ones they might not have been aware they had—get met.  And those are realized in more meaningful ways and on a deeper level than if the individual had rushed forward, set only on fulfilling their own needs.

It’s through the generous act of giving that fulfillment, true base-level fulfillment, is achieved.  But the act of giving something up….  Setting aside our own wants in favor of satisfying another…that has immeasurable value.  Sometimes we do this to please another.  Other times we do it because it’s the right thing to do.  But always, if we slow life just a bit and listen to our inner voice, it will show us the right path to take—whether it’s more appropriate to give or give something up.  If we follow the promptings of that small inner voice, more times than not, enriched contentment will result.        

Tuesday, Aug. 7, 2012

There are times when we approach things with baby steps—itty, bitty, teeny, tiny steps we carefully plan out in our heads before ever endeavoring to move forward.  Other times, we rush right in, blissful in the innocence of not having the slightest clue how or if things will work out.  The way I approach life is a symphonic melded compilation of the two.

Not sure if I was born with this as my natural manner.  Do know that early on—far before I can recall any other mode of operation, life taught me that if I had any hopes of navigating the rough waters I was faced with, then I’d better learn how to adapt to flying by the seat of my pants while proceeding with meticulously planned out precision.

Over the past number of years, however, I’ve made a concerted effort to lesson my self-inflicted restraints.  At first, doing so was terrifying.  To not know exactly what my plan of action would be.  But as time’s worn on and I haven’t managed to self-destruct as I wondered if I might, I’ve learned to take solace in the gained freedom I now have.  How, not having to plan five steps ahead in life just so I can hope to remain one to two ahead of the game isn’t such a bad way to live.  In fact, I’m finding it rather enjoyable.

Course, there are times when life challenges our newfound personal growth.  Such has been my lot for the past year.  But you know what?  I’m managing.  In fact, I think I’ve done better than that, having learned to not only navigate life’s troubled waters with a steadier rudder, but I’ve learned the finer skill of patience, which makes all things more manageable.

So, whether your inclination is to tiptoe into your future or rush at it with wild abandon, tackling all that comes in the interim, know that whatever approach you use, so long as you’re not completely foolish, will probably turn out okay.  Not that you won’t experience some “skinned knees” along the way to your roads straightening out.  But those roads will align themselves, if only we have the perseverance and patience to see them through.      

Monday, Aug. 6, 2012

I'm impressed with the growing number of people I see actively taking an interest in keeping in shape.  Used to be that I'd see a number of folks riding bikes.  Would see fewer running—a good many more walking.  Over the past year and a half, however, those numbers have skyrocketed!

On the mountain trail by my house, there’s been such an inundation of physical fitness seekers that the city now has to find ways to handle the extra traffic and parking issues, not to mention the sheer volume of people.

Some might think this is a bad thing.  Not me.  Though it is sad that my once almost deserted mountain trail has now become a hub of non-stop activity, I can’t help but smile at how individuals and entire families are adopting getting and staying in shape as a lifestyle instead of a thing they do every once in a while, soon to be replaced with more entertaining forms of activities.

When I was little, the best part of being a kid was the freedom we had to head outdoors and explore, climb, discover, wander and push our bodies to their limits.  We didn’t refer to this as work.  No.  We called it playing.  The kids in my neighborhood and I all played hard and long.  When my three older kids were little, this was also the norm.  But then something happened to cause kids to view going outside to play as a…chore—something to be bemoaned and dreaded.

Flash forward to the present when I see one-and-a-half-year olds proudly trotting alongside their parents, sporting beaming smiles, as they conquer my mountain trail.  Did I mention that this particular trail is five miles in length and has intense inclines?  It does.  I’m impressed that the little ones are out there trooping along, as I did as a kid, enjoying every minute of their adventure.  And that entire families are getting out together to actively explore nature…that’s pretty darn cool.

I attribute this sudden interest in getting out to explore nature as a pastime to modern technology.  Over the past year and a half, folks have taken to sharing great hiking, running, swimming, etc spots with those they know via blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Yelp and the like.  First a few reached out.  Then those recipients reached out to more.  And so on and so forth until great masses now have an easy means to discover what was once information limited to the die-hard physical fitness enthusiasts.  And in my opinion, this is a good thing.   

So, though there are times when I laughingly comment that perhaps city official will soon need to install traffic signals on my remote mountain hiking trail to direct pedestrians and cyclists, I maintain that I’d rather the masses join me up there—and any other places they find to exercise—than sit around….         

Sunday, Aug. 5, 2012

While watching TV with a friend yesterday, I made a disturbing discovery.  A good many of the offered programs or movies highlighted people being tortured, getting hurt due to their own carelessness or folks consumed by violence.  That got me to thinking.  Why is it that society’s so fascinated with these things?  So much so as to consider it entertainment to watch them play out?

Whatever happened to people displaying empathy for their fellow man?  Cringing when someone, even if it’s a total stranger, gets hurt?  At what point did it become an acceptable sport for individuals to gleefully embrace the concept of others’ suffering?  And then there’s the whole disturbing thought of those who like—really and truly enjoy—viewing others who are consumed by violence.  The lengths they’ll go.  Chaos they cause.  The living beings that they’ll delight in hurting.

Now I admit, I’m not the most TV savvy person.  In fact, I watch so little as to constitute not watching it at all.  So perhaps I missed some gradual uphill swing that caused viewers to gravitate towards what I consider disturbing images.  Things I’d rather not see.  But…based the number of programs that offer such visual images, I must be of the minority mindset. 

If that’s the case, then so be it.  I’m fine being openly empathetic….  Cringing when someone, even a stranger, gets hurt….  Refusing to gleefully embrace the concept of others’ suffering.  And when it comes to violent people, most often, I make it a point to steer clear of rather than applaud those individuals and their actions. 

It used to be that implied violence in programs and movies was enough.  Viewers didn’t need to actually see someone beaten to death by a baseball bat.  Or have their fingers chopped off, one-by-one, with a rusty saw.  Or have images carved into their flesh as visuals reminders, to the rest of the world, of who that person was—on the inside. 

Over the past couple of decades, however, people have become desensitized to these things.  Worse, they’ve become blaze about them.  Then, even more disturbing, they began to take pleasure in watching them play out.  And that’s where I draw the distinction between the masses being “entertained” and myself.

Some might say I’m old-fashioned due to the way I feel.  Probably am.  But if becoming a “modern-day thinker” entails embracing violence, then count me out!