The Glass is Half-Full

  I spent the last 45 days of 2024 suffering with a wee bit of the plague.  It didn't completely stop me, but it came close. I only briefly came out of my isolation to participate in the Lakeshore Community Chorus' holiday concert, to take care of the world's most adorable bairn and then celebrate his first birthday, to attend Christmas Eve worship, to see the bio-pic of Bob Dylan, celebrate NYE with the previously mentioned adorable grandson and his parents and to have short visits with my daughter from a different mother/father and her adorable daughter. I don't think I missed any 'events'. After each of these 'events' I then went back to my cocoon (the recliner in the living room, with my blankie and water bottle). There I could cough, sneeze and ache in relative comfort with my tissues, Mucinex and Advil nearby. I also discovered the comfort of an occasional hot toddy. When there were no signs of improvement, I went to my doctor and she prescribed an...

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B...

John and I arrived early for an appointment (for those of you that know my husband, you know that this is not infrequent! The story of arriving three hours early for a flight to Phoenix from Midway still gets repeated and laughed about when the 'kids' get together). We found a seat and the waiting room began to fill. We had chosen seats away from the TV where NBC's Today Show was playing, so we couldn't see what was on the screen. Another couple sat before the TV and provided commentary and as the time progressed provided a glimpse into a total different 'reality'. "Oh I can't even stand to look at him. He's so evil" "What is wrong with his hair?" "This administration will do down in history as the worst ever." "The federal government is taking over the states. There's going to be a civil war, just you wait." "They just let all those illegal aliens in and then they're going to give them weapons to take...

  When I was a child and someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, the response varied greatly through the years. Having once wanting to be a nun (I can hear the guffaws and peels of laughter now!) to an attorney (I married one and birthed two instead) to being secretary of state (diplomacy was gift) to being an actress (still love a stage!) and to being a journalist (did the latter off and on).  Not once would I have responded to being a mother or bookstore clerk or Weight Watcher coach - but those last three turned out to be my jam. Those last three are where I have found the greatest joy, had an impact and felt most comfortable. And yesterday, I had my last Weight Watcher's workshop saying goodbye to members and to coworkers that hold a special place in my heart. As a coach, I was honored to walk alongside members as they struggled with emotional issues and self doubts but also when they gained strength and control over life-long mindsets that were hold...

  Each year I pull out the Christmas decorations and it’s like a walk down memory lane. The ornament that Michael made in preschool with his handprint in clay. or the one with Matthew’s picture in the middle of a wreath made of puzzle pieces painted green. Or the one of Glinda the good witch, we got for Delaney tge year she was Glinda in the play. As I hold each one, I remember the who, what, why of them and I’m whisked back. There are many that not only bear the scars of time but of that damn dog, Wally. When Wally was that ‘damn dog’ before becoming ‘the best damn dog’. *sigh* The Santa with his hand chewed off, the angel statuette whose halo has vanished  along with most of her hair/yarn and left eye are two beyond repair. I have tried to mend some and still others were long since thrown away. They’re reminders of a pup that could be destructive when he didn’t get the attention he desired - usually when his primary carer (me) had the audacity to take a shower or go to the b...

  In the movie "it's a Wonderful Life", the protagonist George Bailey has longed nearly his whole life to 'shake off the dust of this crummy little town off my feet," to see the world. But Bedford Falls, that crummy little town, felt differently about George. And with the help of a quirky guardian angel, George eventually sees that his life and his town were pretty wonderful. Good lord, but I love that movie and it's characters and it's moral and that small town. I watch it every year at least twice and still cry every time. And I wonder too about the man that pushes the devious Mr. Potter's wheelchair and stands by his side- you know the man, he looks a little like Lurch from "The Addams Family". I wonder, what was he thinking as he listened and watched his boss ruin the lives of everyone he could. What kind of an Non-disclosure agreement did he sign, to keep him silent as he stood by and watched Potter pocket the money Uncle Billy was depo...