A Touch of Kindness

These days, as I am chatting with my patients and friends, the conversation always turns to the economy. But, we always agree that we have nothing to complain about, as we view other’s situations in this wide world–we are really blessed!

Today, as I picked teeth and talked my patient’s ear off a little, the conversation again turned to counting our blessings. When we compare our experiences to other’s lives, we always seem to be amazed at how lucky we have been with our own.

Over twenty years ago, a friend of mine who had recently married became an instant parent of her younger brothers. Her parents were traveling to Gulf Shores, engaging in an exercise they called “switching drivers while driving”. My friend’s 18 year old brother had been in training for this practice, and lost control of the car, killing himself, his parents, and the family cat. The two brothers and a friend had been in the back of the van survived.

Sometime after that, I was visiting this friend in her home in Ocala. On her refrigerator was a quote that said: “Be kind. Remember that everyone is fighting a battle”.

This quote said so much. Here my friend had her life turned upside down, but, took it in stride. At least it appeared that she had–she put up a brave front.

I would like to remind all of us that we need to be kind to others. One never knows what is really happening behind the scenes of another’s life. Indeed, we may need that kindness repaid one day!

Pass it on!

Ciao y’all

Joan

Growing Up and Moving Forward

It occurs to me that growing up is an ongoing process. Just physically becoming an adult does not achieve this. Growth happens in stages, often precipitated by a stressful event, such as a divorce, or even the death of a loved one.

These passages bring us to different levels of growth. They teach us to deal with life’s stressors, both major and minor, and to move forward.

Throughout much of our lives, friends, or mother and father figures (who need not necessarily be our true parents), help us to get through these trying times. For myself, this has been mainly my peer group of staunch supporters–yes, you guessed it–women!

We are blessed with the caring hearts of womankind, who are hard-wired for this sort of thing. Compassion is a wonderful thing. May we all nurture kindness, and share an abundance of this. Pass it on!

Let us honor Glenda Beall’s husband Barry. May he dance in heaven, and tell Glenda about it!

This is a poem from an unpublished anthology of mine. I think it is appropriate for Barry.

SOUL MATE

Give me you hand
Let us traverse this land

Give me your head
Upon a pillow, in our bed

Give me your love
Custom fitted, like a glove

Give me your body
For pleasure, almost godly

Give me your heart
‘Til death, when we must part

Then give me your tears
For memories held dear

And let furl your soul
From mine- no longer whole

The Sisterhood of Womenkind

Here in the middle of my life, I am taking inroads discover who I am, where I am going, and who I want to be when I grow up. I had spent so much of my adult life working for a living, and making a home for family, that I had neglected my spirit. I just kept going and doing like a mad women, until I approached the age of 50. “I’ll take time to be creative when I’m not as busy”, I told myself.

Suddenly I became aware that this promised time was drifting out of my reach. It was up to me to just stand still and take stock. I began to realize that I needed to make the time, now. The house might not get cleaned as often, and short cuts would rule for dinner (most of the time); it was time for me to meet some other needs.

I thank my friends, and the many kind ears of my dental hygiene patients over the years. All of them listened and encouraged me. I came to a realization that women truly are a sisterhood. We relate to common experiences, and share our wisdom.

Women are built tough. We have to be, we are the steel hand in the velvet glove. We ensure the survival of the species, or at least we have until now.

Here is a poem that speaks to all women.

Blessings!
Joan

One Tribe

Have you felt

With passing years

A more pressing need

To connect with other women

To share observations

And Laughter

To offer advice

Or garner wisdom?

Do you feel drawn

As if by a magnetic force

To be with your own kind?

For these women are a tribe

Your tribe

No one else will ever

Understand your struggle

As they will

Women are our people

When we come together

We feel a oneness

A sisterhood united

When we come together

We are at home

The Macaroni and Cheese Debate

My husband, Rob, and I have a running debate about a variety of topics. These typically involve food, how to do something, or grammar. One of my favorite debates is the Macaroni and Cheese one.
Let me ask you, is macaroni and cheese a main dish or a side dish? I asked several dental patients this question some time ago. They were split on the subject; although, the majority said: “main dish”.
Apparently the use of the dish would vary due to your family’s eating habits and possibly where you grew up. As Rob is from “the south”, he was raised on fried fish, okra, and a whole lot of beans and rice. My Yankee roots had the dish as a main one. It could always be improved on with chunks of ham–umm!
To me, mac and cheese is pure comfort food. Thick, rich cheese sauce covering pasta, filling the void in my stomach, that is luxury on a budget! You can trim off the fatty with skim milk and 2% cheese and top with Parmesan. You can hardly tell the difference. Well, not much.
Stay tuned for the venetian blind debate to be aired in the future. I welcome your comments!

By y’all!

Joan

Has anyone seen my brain?

It has been a fuzzy couple of weeks. I haven’t been sleeping my best due to excitement from having company, etc., and menopause. I’m sure you know what I am talking about, dear readers!
Anyway, I have gone back to sleeping with an ice pack to get the head cooled off. It really does help! I have gone the herbal route in the past, and it may help. I guess I have to get off the soy supplement and the black cohosh and see.
Last night I slept better, so I think I am settling down, finally! It helps not to have the caffeine in the PM–I really do know better! I’m sure that I would be diagnosed with AADD (adult attention deficit disorder). But, I have been this way since I was a tadpole. If I cut out the sugar and the caffeine, and don’t eat processed food (I usually do not), I am good.
I am enjoying the summer by hiding out in the air conditioning as much as possible. This works pretty well, and I brave the outdoors by running back and forth in my air conditioned car.
Everybody have a delightful week and remember to pass on a smile. There is always someone in need of a bit of cheer.
Ciao!
Joan

"NORMAL"? AT LAST!

Hello Friends!

I have returned to my computer, hooray! It is tough just having dial-up on “vacation”. With the 4th of July library closings, and the budget cuts I did not get to the write, or check email. Today I was back at my day job, and things should start to return to “normal”. Between working, taking two trips to NC within two months, and having company–whew; I had lost the “go”! button.
So, we left the more temperate climate of Western NC for the lovely barbecue pit of Florida; and, here is a hint–we are the barbecue! I will miss the hummingbirds and songbirds at the feeders. I can’t complain; I did get some “R and R”, amid the chigger bites! I am a magnet for mosquitoes and chiggers, I swear!
Here is a poem that gives you the aura of Florida in the summer. Enjoy and have a blessed day!

DELRAY

Plastic pink flamingos

Protect the yards

Lizards lounge

Contemplating Nietzsche

Florida sun

Frying pan on medium

Sizzling soon

Leaves dressed

In liquid garments

Of slick humidity

Humans dart

In and out

Savoring indoor

Ice cream air

Slight breeze

Stirs the dankness

Locals linger

On the Avenue

Celebrating

Snowbird summer secession

From Delray’s shores

Song of Summer

How lovely it is here after arriving from steaming Central Florida. It is a blessing to enjoy the gentle breezes and listen to the birdsong. Amen.
I neglected to write for a week due to out-of-town company; but, ahh!, the joy of grandchildren. It was worth the precarious balancing of work and housekeeping and pleasure.
Here is a little poem that I wrote yesterday AM from my front porch.

Song of Summer
Sing to me that sweet song of summer
The gentle rhythm of branches conducting soft breezes
Stirring cool air with fragrant Sour wood blossoms
Punctuated with bursts of birdsong
Rising above the steady hubbub of bumble and honeybees
Trees offer up a standing ovation
Have a peaceful day!

In Praise of Fathers Everywhere

It is Father’s Day, and even though it is a holiday created by Hallmark to sell cards, I do keep it and respect it. Father’s Day is a time to reflect on your parent or other manly role model and to give thanks for that person in your life.
When I was a child, I did not get to spend much time with my Dad. He was a full time plumber/electrician, and a part-time farmer. That part-time farmer thing meant that he farmed before he went to work, and when he came home from his day job.
As a result of this my Dad was pretty tired in the evening. As children, we really did not appreciate this; we were pretty wrapped up in being kids.
I have a memory of one summer night long ago; it was the 4th of July. The weather was pleasantly cool. I must have been 12 or 13, and we had just returned from watching the fireworks burst over the lake, and shower the hillsides. We got out of the sapphire blue Galaxy 500; and I went to take my Dad’s hand. He grasped it and I felt a thrill run through me; I knew then that my Father loved me.
Here is a poem that I wrote yesterday, for my Dad.

My father is a rock of dependability
He is a man of few words, i.e.–
The strong, silent type
My Dad was a good provider
We had everything that we needed
Not to excess, but enough
My father has humility
He does not try to be boastful
Or appear better than others
My Dad is a man of simple needs
He takes pride in what he does
But, he is quietly proud
Fathers do not always get
The thanks they deserve
The thanks for the food on the table
And for the electricity and hot water
The thank yous for the shelter above us
For the clothes on our backs
And above all, for their love
Thank you Dad!
Happy Father’s Day!

Summer’s Eve

It is thundering, again–not a surprise since the humidity is ninety-something percent, a typical summer’s eve in Florida. Orlando sends her storms eastward this time of year.

My trusty Belgian Shepherd is starting to pant and worry. I leave the room and she follows me everywhere. I wish that I could calm her anxiety.

Just a few weeks ago it was bone dry. Lawns were browning up, plants were withering from the merciless southern sun. We all prayed for rain, and here it comes, again!

Still we must be grateful for the bounty of rain, whenever we can get it. We must save it up for the dry times that will surely come again.

Liken these showers to prayers that are answered in your life. Embrace them for what they promise–growth and abundance. Feel the promise of the rain. Hold this thought for a moment and know that you are blessed.

The Pink Coat

I grew up in a family that had three girls. I was the middle girl, so I got the hand-me-downs from my older sister. As you can imagine, I was not thrilled with this. Like everyone else, I like to pick out my own wardrobe; but, this was not the time when many children were able to do this. We simply did not have marketing to children on television, or other media. Most of our clothes came from the local J.C. Penneys store, or from the Sears Catalog.
Anyway, one winter when I was probably 13 or 14, I inherited “the” coat. It was garish, I thought, hot pink plush with big round buttons. As I had outgrown my other coat, I had no choice but to wear it to school. I was mortified!
I vividly remember arriving at school in said coat. I walked head down to my locker with rubber boots sloshing the air. Were there snide looks and comments? Probably, that I do not remember; I just remember my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
But, you see I survived that. The funny thing is that today if I found that coat in a vintage shop, or as new vintage style, I would think that it was kicky and cool. And, as it turned out, pink has become a favorite color of mine (especially hot pink!)–too funny.
I guess the moral is you never know how things will end up. Therefore, let’s make the best of what we have and count our blessings!

As I write, sunlight leaks through the oak canopy. Branches stir the air lazily, like spoons in lattes. It is damp, as it poured last evening. We were cooking out and managing the process with a golf umbrella. We still got soaked; but, the meat survived! Of course the tank had to be changed in the downpour–duh!

It is a prelude to the dense humidity that will follow, later, with 90 degree heat. Oh, Florida is delightful in the summer! But, it gets worse; July, August, and September will attest to that. I need to remember, as my skin seems to melt out in this weather, that humidity is good for your skin. That’s the lemonade to make out of the lemon of tropical weather!

Enjoy the rain for what it is–life-giving to all of nature. May the rain slow you down a little, so that you may daydream, or take a breath.

Here is a rain poem from a yet to be published book that I call Naturescapes. (Glenda, I share your rain!)

I’VE GOT RHYTHM

Rain slakes down

Smacking onto leaves

Rhythmically pat-pat

Pattering, smattering

Sounding out as Nature’s

Percussion section

Listen as trees applaud

June showers

(Actually the poem says April showers; since it is mine, I can amend it!)

Good Morning Campers!
It is Thursday, and sooo close to the weekend! I thought that a couple of good quotes would get us through the day.
Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can’t build on it, it’s only good for wallowing in.
–Katherine Mansfield
Financial Tip: If you have been in therapy for the last fifteen years over your failure to live up to this image of Womanhood, not to mention your inexplicable lack of desire to do so, you can save the cost of the therapist and whatever drugs you’ve been put on by just buying your own copy of Betty Crocker and burning it. You may stomp on it as well, before, during, and/or after the burning, but be sure to wear properly fitted footgear for this activity–your own personal do-it-yourself therapeutic exorcism.
–Jill Conner Browne; The Sweet Potato Queens’ Big Ass Cookbook (and Financial Planner)
Have a wonderful day!
Joan