The Glass is Half-Full

Blogging is a little surreal. I sit here at home (mostly) and write about what's going on in my life or what's on my mind. I don't always publish what I write, but do about half the time.  And sometimes, the posts are humorous glimpses into my mind or life. And others, like my most recent post #Me Too, Too Many Times, the revelations are jaw-dropping and anything but humorous. And then I go out in the world and encounter people who have taken time to read what I write (thank you!). This is where it feels surreal. Because I haven't changed, just what you now know about me has changed. In the Me Too post, what I revealed happened many years ago and has been woven into the tapestry that is me. It was horrendous and horrible, but God has given me a resilience to move through those traumas wholly intact. I am also bolstered daily by my husband of nearly 30 years who holds me and listens to me and loves me. I thank God for John. When you see me, remember that the pe

I've had many discussions in recent weeks with people that have had a huge spectrum of feelings and viewpoints about the revelations that women have been harassed, assaulted and raped. And many of these were revealed for the first time by the women, some of incidents that happened more than 20 years ago. For the first time in their lives, the women have said that they chose now to reveal because they felt 'safe' or 'supported'. In one recent conversation (just after the Harvey Weinstein/Charlie Rose revelations), I was part of, a man asked "Where's the evidence?",  to which a woman said, "It's just not fair. I mean these women can say whatever they want and ruin these men's lives." I held my tongue. Another woman said, "I think they're just looking for their 15 minutes of fame." The conversation continued around me, but I couldn't hear what they were saying because my heart was racing and blood coursin

"This is my kind of town Chicago is my kind of town Chicago is my kind of people too People who smile at you and Each time I roam Chicago is calling me home... Chicago is one town that won't let you down It's my kind of town"   Fr ank Sinatra - My Kind Of Town Lyrics | MetroLyrics     I have always felt this way about Chicago - the city of my birth and the city I love most.  Until my trip last week, I would have said it was an easy city to get around in - and it still is if you're two-footing. But if you're four-wheeling and the sidewalks are snow-covered and the temps are below zero (below zero before the wind chill!!), it's a little more challenging. And I had help schlepping around the city with Delaney pushing my chair and loading it in-and-out of trunks (with the help of some interesting Lyft/taxi drivers). While queing up to enter the CIBC theatre to see Hamilton (incredible, worthy of the hype!!!) in those sub-ze

Are there still telephone operators? I remember dialing (even actually dialing on a rotary phone!) 0 - to call collect or reverse the charges. Mostly to my parents because I didn't have the dime (yes a dime!!) to call home to ask for a ride or to ask if I could go to a friend's house after school. Like rotary phones, I wonder if operators are a thing of the past . . . I just did a quick Google search and there were job listings for telephone operators. Interesting!! Particularly because I think Google has largely replaced another relic of the past - calling information to get a phone number for a person or business. I'm not sure if these calls were answered by operators between calls from adolescent girls calling their parents collect or if there were people in a room with a lot of phone books looking up numbers for callers. Which makes me think of another past relic, phone books. These often unwieldy tomes were delivered once a year and depending on the city or t