Only

I am going to stop using the word only.

Only has so little merit...a silly word used in disparaging, minimizing ways...I would rather maximize my life...use all my tools....
positive ideas and words. And only? Well it is kind of a load...

See?

But I only had one...
If only you loved me...
Only Buffy and Tad spoke to me at the cotillion
Dad only loves you
Mom only loves you
If only I had not eaten,said,done,that.
You only get one
Who is it? Only me
Only a face a mother could love
I only did it once...

I am not great at setting goals, I am great at wanting to.....so I will try again...what else do we have except to try again.
My new goal is to avoid the onlys in my life.

I am adding, myriad...many...numerous...innumerable....multitudinous....

A life of bounty and abundance...

Doesn't that sound great? I am not confusing bounty and abundance with wealth and power...I see bounty and abundance as dispelling worry. And worry is what we do when we can't do anything else....

But we can do so many things, in fact we can do almost anything.

I asked a friend of mine how she lost weight and got in better physical shape...she looked at me for a long time and then said, "I just did it, I got up one day and ate differently and went for a long walk...nothing more profound than that."

So today just do it.....argue with no one....let everyone else win the argument. Let them all "Be right" That is your gift to your family, friends and neighbors....if you see an argument coming...walk away. The Savior never argued, when there was contention, he walked away. Think of all the fights you have had simply because you had to be right...you couldn't let it go....

Now go!! Read good things, think good thoughts, and eat good food.....throw away the onlys!!

Love to you all, especially Kathey...her sweet son is going on his mission today..

He is Home!!!

Can you believe it? He really is home.....we have been making fools of ourselves since he came down the escalator at the airport Tuesday night.

We touch him......a lot.

And we smile even more....

There just aren't a lot of times in my life that equal the other night. Seeing my son after two years was almost surreal.




When I saw him, and he looked so great, and had the biggest smile it was as though he had not ever been away.



But he was away...for two years. He sure grew up a lot. Now he understands that the most satisfying parts of life revolve around helping other people. And he found out how to work hard, to love without expecting anything in return.

And can you believe it? He eats fruit now....

So he is home. I think he is glad to be home, but sometimes I am sure he misses being a missionary. He will be thinking about these last two years for the rest of his life. There is nothing else he could have done over the last two years that could have even come close to the experience he had. We drove up to Utah today to see about school....and on the way back he told me story after story....some were sad, some were funny, and all of them were life altering for Mikey.




Welcome home Mikey, thanks for the ride, it was so much fun. But I am so glad you are home!!

Preparing the fatted calf...my little boy is coming home!!!

Next Tuesday my son Mikey will be returning home from two years in Costa Rica where he served a mission for our church. I thought the time went by so fast, but then I always think time rushes by...I feel we eat breakfast every twenty minutes. Even with time going by quickly, I have missed him so much. Our whole family felt the hole created by his absence. Sometimes it was too hard and sometimes it was even unbearable. But I knew the life he was living in Costa Rica was completely worth the sacrifice.

We missed his savant like mind for endless sports trivia. His unbelievable inability to sing. We missed his ridiculous outfits and theme dates.

We looked forward to Mondays when his weekly email arrived. We laughed at his antics and wondered what the "Ticos" really thought of our silly, sweet, but always determined Michael. We followed his adventures for two years.....from endless rain, beautiful beaches, volcanic eruptions. strange, strange animals and far to many earthquakes to count. I didn't feel nervous, which I should have...but I always felt a certain peace that comes when you know everything is fine.

It is true I couldn't listen to Jack Johnson for two years...or Michael Buble...the memories were too strong...he loved all kinds of music, but those two singers were his favorites. Every time I would hear Jack Johnson my heart would go back to an incredible Saturday afternoon watching him play football. So I avoided those songs. Unless they would come on the radio......and then honestly I would have to go off by myself, cry, compose myself and go on. I Knew there was no way I could offer him the kind of experiences he was having...I just let the wave of sadness come and then go....

For a long time I couldn't go in his room, then I went all the time, I found a lot of comfort there. I never made his room a shrine, but it was a place to remember the little boy I knew was never coming home. Mikey left a teenager, but he is coming back a twenty one year old man. A man who has had a lot of responsibility, worked through homesickness, impatience and a lot of rejection. He lost himself and found real joy....all from serving people he never knew before and may never see again.

He wrote to us first of not getting along with his companions...and then his letters changed to caring about others and not himself......his heart was broken telling us about his companion who was disowned by his family when he joined the church only a year ago. The sadness they both felt after his mother hung up on him when he called her for mother's day. He told me he felt guilty when he would get emails and packages. He begged me to send his companion a box, "just put anything in it, he never gets a letter or an email." We did that happily.....


Because he was so passionate about what he was there to do, it bothered him when people didn't accept his message....his heart was broken when very troubled people would come up to him and tell him how much they wanted what he was offering, how much they wanted to change...but they felt their weaknesses was too much to overcome. Mikey is convinced anyone can do anything. he tries so hard to get people to believe in themselves and the power they have. I hope he never loses that.....it is a good way to live.


So Tuesday Mikey comes home...and another chapter of life starts. He doesn't know what an iPad is, or the oil spill in the Gulf. When he left Bush was president and unemployment in Nevada was about 6%...it is now the worst in the country at 14%. When he left Tiger Woods was still an athlete we respected and Ben Rothlisberger was a great quarterback whose only statistics were on the field. Come to think of it, Mikey may not want to catch up with everything....

Mikey shared with me the wonder of his mission through his letters and emails. He wrote about his absolute joy when someone would consent to baptism. He told us about the woman at the temple who recognized his name and told him she joined the church after her daughter shared the gospel with her.....and her daughter had been taught by Mikey. He was barely able to speak when he realized his message of hope had been passed to this wonderful woman, someone he had never met. We shared his disappointment when things didn't work out the way he had hoped. We laughed at his inability to be sad for very long, relieved he could still find the "funny" in the most depressing times.

His adventures were running from dogs, seeing amazing water falls, monkeys, sloths, iguanas, tremendous poverty, and unbelievable beauty. He had a surprise visit from his brother who brought a suitcase to him filled with Christmas goodies, a visit from dear friends who brought 30 people with them straining the walls of the tiny church he met in. He ran into a man at the temple who is a best friend of our stake president...I had a box delivered to him by the most amazing relay system you could imagine. The box went from a friend of mine in Las Vegas to a woman who lived in Costa Rica was in Salt Lake City for a conference....she then carried the box for a week before going back to Costa Rica and handing it off to Mikey in San Jose.


Then a former baby sitter who grew up to be unbelievably beautiful, went to his Sacrament meeting with her three children while she was there on vacation. She scared him when she said, "Hi Mikey, how's it going?" He didn't recognize her at first, and had the hardest time explaining to everyone who she was. There just aren't a lot of beautiful blondes in the jungle of Costa Rica.


Part of the fun of Mikey's mission was when he would run into people who knew his older brother. Trey served in the same mission, and there were quite a few times people would recognize his name and be amazed. Mikey was grateful Trey was a good missionary...he never had to apologize for anything.

I don't have adequate words to express my thanks to the people who prayed for him while he was away. Or those that sent him letters and gifts of money (he often got tired of Rice and beans and enjoyed many trips to Taco Bell, Burger King and McDonalds.) He got care packages from so many, including letters from former coaches. I don't think he ever felt forgotten, or unloved. And aside from constant problems with his feet (thank you Shawna for helping him get medical help) he is coming home healthy and happy. He truly left it, "all on the field."

But more than anything I want to thank my Savior for making it all possible. For giving me the strength to let my precious son be away for two years, and for being the only one Michael depended on for two years.
My love to you all.

Wimbledon and some great advice...

So here's the deal, the other day I read a really nasty column online. It upset me, so I sent it to my friend Wendy, she would know what to do. I mean it was the meanest, twisted bit of quasi journalism you could ever read. I was acrimonious with what they had said and I needed Wendy to fix it..... why should I deal with this alone? So she emails back almost immediately and tells me, "don't read this column again." And then she says...."Go watch Wimbledon." Some wing man.

But I did....

Holy cats!! Did you watch that match today? Did you see those 2 players slogging it out for 10 straight hours? Wait, let me say this again.....10 HOURS!!! The longest tennis match ever played...for those of you sleeping...they played for 10 hours, who does anything for 10 hours? And these guys played big boy tennis for 10 hours. If you wonder why I am repeating myself it is because no one plays tennis for 10 hours! Much less this kind of tennis........great tennis, aces, volleys, incredible tennis! These 2 players, a American named John Isner and a Frenchman named Nicolas Mahut started playing this match Tuesday but had to stop because it was dark (Wimbledon doesn't have lights...I know, I know, the English have heard of lights but it is in the same category as dentists....they just don't use them. ) And then back to it today...the fifth game is tied at....wait for it, 59-59. There should be silence.....you see it is a rule that the fifth game can't go to a tie breaker. So instead it just goes on forever. I wouldn't think this would be very good news for France...they have that nasty reputation for simply giving up, but old Nicolas would have none of that....he is in it to win it...I am not sure if this performance will be enough to change the course of history about the French and surrendering, but who knows ...and these 2 guys are amazing. How many of us would do something like this? I have to tell you at some reasonable time, maybe at hour number 3 or 4, I think I would wander over to the net, motion to my opponent and say something like.....I'M HUNGRY! I'M TIRED! I NEED TO PEE! it's been real!!.....I would toss them a towel, gather up my rackets and head for a massage. So long!!

.....but not these guys.

Anyway, another great part of this marathon tennis match is the Queen is coming tomorrow! She is scheduled to see Rafael Nadal play, and you know Queens - they stay on a schedule, but I wonder if she will at least take a peek at the French guy and the really tall American. As cute as Rafael is, only his mom will be watching his match. I am so excited to see who finally wins. These 2 guys are freakin' famous!! (thank you to my children for that description) No matter what happens next, they are the story of Wimbledon. They have set a record no one will break....who else could survive that long to break it?

And they are going to be connected forever. Maybe they never met before they faced off on the green courts of Wimbledon...but now these 2 obscure guys playing on court 18 are going to be on Regis, People magazine and the food network. They will be endorsing shoes that can go the distance, a little trail mix for stamina, and a watch for telling the time...A watch that should be saying, "Hey Nicolas we have been here for 10 hours!!"

Court 18 or not everyone will be watching them tomorrow. Including the Queen, I mean come on she hasn't been to Wimbledon in 33 years, this is big! She will have to trot down to court 18...What am I saying? She and her purse can sit at Center court for a while and then demand they change courts. A little player rotation, why not? She's the queen!! There just have to be some perks for putting up with her kids all these years...

But here's the deal, in life, you never know what the real story is going to be. And that is what I especially love about sports....you never know. It is SO much better than the news, because we always know how that is going to end, someone yelling, someone lying, and everyone mad.

So let's tune into to Wimbledon tomorrow, before you watch that cute Rafael Nadal on Center court, watch these guys for awhile. No one told them they were just some obscure tennis players way back on court 18......they think they are champions. And after what I saw today, I think they are right.

Aren't you glad I listened to Wendy?

James Taylor, Stevie Nicks and Me

I am a child of the 70's....We were all over the place. None of us knew what was really going on. For one thing we didn't really know what kind of music we liked.......It seemed like we were musically schizophrenic, there was hard rock, odd rock, slow music, loud music all of it, wonderful music.....my early 70's taste was devoted to Jethro Tull, Rare Earth and James Taylor. My parents had lived through the Monkees, the Beach Boys and of course the Rolling Stones...and then there were others....and all of the music had a story.

The summer before I graduated from high school I visited lots of colleges trying to decide which one could reject me first...and I heard "Maggie May" by Rod Stewart every ten minutes on the radio. I equate beautiful Texas campuses, warm summer evenings with Rod Stewart, and every time I hear Maggie May I go right back there.






During the race to become homecoming Queen my senior year the local radio station dedicated a song to me for luck ...so every time I hear the song called "Sweet City Woman" by the Stampeders, I remember a wonderful Saturday afternoon at a great football game, and my yellow dress with shoes dyed to match. I didn't win, but it didn't really matter. I go back to that afternoon every time I hear...

"I can see your face, I can hear your voice, I can almost touch you
Swee-ee-eet, sweet city woman
Oh, my banjo and me, we got a feel for singin', yeah, yeah,"

And then of course that catchy refrain....sung about a thousand times, it doesn't matter how corny it is, I love it, I am 17 again....with yellow shoes dyed to match.
"Bon c'est bon, bon bon c'est bon, bon," (That is awful..but I still love
it.)


And then of course there was Fleetwood Mac...I wanted to be Stevie Nicks and sing Landslide, my favorite song...The fact I couldn't sing and didn't have a drug problem seemed to be deal breakers. I went to see her one time and she came out on stage in this amazing long black dress, she was beautiful....and her voice was perfect. It was years later that I read she lived in a small house behind someone's house with a couple of dogs. The article was clear she really loved her dogs....



I thought for sure Glen Frey from the Eagles would have asked me out. And he would have if only our paths would have crossed. But he didn't and they didn't.... I thought Witchy Woman was the coolest song...when I got older and really listened to the song I was a little surprised...I never paid any attention to the words as I sang along...I had no idea why "she drove herself to madness with a silver spoon...". My husband and I went to see the Eagles with Jane and Steve...everyone was our age, and I bet every one of us was thinking of another time...



"Mama told me not to come" by Three Dog Night was my anthem. I still think it is a great fun song, and it is still true!

Patti and I climbed on a table to sing along with War. Didn't they sing Cisco Kid too?

I knew all the words to "American Pie" by Don McClean, and I stun friends with my ability to sing the whole...long...song..so many years later.

High School graduation was a Rare Earth concert..."I just want to celebrate!" Remember that?But do you know what makes me the happiest today is that Carole King and James Taylor have decided to get old. It took James Taylor a long, long time to find out that drugs are not a very good substitute for creativity. And just look at this picture...two old friends, still with a lot of talent....being who they are. This picture makes me feel good...I know James Taylor had a lot of things to over come. And he did it...there are lots of stars of music who died young, some tragically, many sacrificed marriages and were estranged from their children. I thought so many of them were the coolest.......I didn't really know.I am glad my life worked out the way they did. I wouldn't change a thing. Every bad decision I made helped me be stronger, and wiser. Every sad thing that happened every bumbling dumb thing I did......All of it made me better. All of our experiences are for our good, if we chose to look at them that way. And I do. I get to walk through life with the same person I started out with. That's the greatest miracle of my life. Thanks Ray-Ray. Congrats on 31 great years.

There is a great quote that says, "It is at the end of a man's life that he realizes how important the decisions were that he made at the beginning of his life."

I was never going to be a singer, or an actress, a great tennis player or Barbara Walters......I have a very small life, but it is an important one. So I don't look with envy at Stevie, or wonder if Glen is going to call...I think of that young girl looking at colleges listening to Maggie May and I know she would be happy for how things have worked out. Small lives are important lives...

I discovered adoption doesn't always work when you step outside your species. Maybe it works sometimes...you hear about the dog who adopts an orangutan. Or the hippo who adopts the tortoise...The animal world is a crazy place. They seem to blend seamlessly.....

But that wasn't my experience......

When last we met I was trying to find someone, anyone, to help me with the 5 baby birds that were suddenly my responsibility. I did everything everyone suggested, I waited for the mother to return...she didn't. I called the local bird sanctuary....they were useless. They practically screamed into the phone....No! We do not know what to do, and No! We couldn't possibly give you any advice.

I hope they don't need any donations in the future. And at my first opportunity I will expose them for the impostors they are...sanctuary indeed.

My dear neighbor Cris told me to feed them meal worms. Meal worms? I couldn't find meal worms, but Cris found them at Wal-Mart. Yikes...

After we bought the meal worms I just stared at them for awhile...they were disgusting. How do I get the worms from the Styrofoam cup to the bird mouths? The worms needed to be smaller than they were, so I crushed them up and used my tweezers to put it in their mouths. I discovered a few things, my gag reflex and baby birds do not like to be held. Well, duh, mother birds don't hold them. And, wow, baby birds aren't above being pushy when it comes to food.

So I fed them, a lot. And they ate, a lot. And often...real often.

I was now the surrogate mother to five starlings, which oh by the way, turned out to be sparrows... I spent a great deal of time thinking "I am going to go through all this bother and work and get attached, and then they will die", mainly because I am a human without the ability to regurgitate insects and they are, well ......birds.

What am I doing and what do I know about birds? The truth is I knew less about birds than I thought. Through the bird grapevine I found out that sparrows eat every ten minutes. And that they are fed by both a mother and a father. I had no idea the family dynamic was so in tact in the small-bird world. After being with them for a few days it made sense to me to have a kind of tag team approach to whole affair. It was exhausting!! And this bird couple had been quite prolific. Mother Sparrow laid 5 eggs and all 5 hatched....the rest of the nests on my porch are underachievers comparably speaking. There are 3 eggs and 2 eggs respectively...it had to be this group that fell out of the tree in front of my door.

So there I was....doing all I could to keep these little birds alive. A friend (thank you Jan) lent me a bird cage, my husband attached a light to the cage.....everyone really tried.

All of our intentions were great....but one day 2 of them died and then the next day the rest of them died. I wasn't nearly as effective as I was hoping to be, and it was really sad.

The experience caused me to wonder why I cared so much. But then I saw it was simple, it was life...and protecting life is inherent in all of us. Nothing more profound than that.

I realized again that life is valuable, and for that I am grateful to have had the experience.

Mother nature is a mad scientist!

On either side of my front door are two quite fabulous ficus trees. In one of the trees a mother Starling decided (again) to build a nest.

Things were moving along just fine.

Nest built and eggs were layed....A suitable amount of time passed.....and the birds were hatched!...Yeah mother nature!!

As homeowners, our responsibility was to ignore the nest along with the mother bird's very bad manners. She considered anyone who came to the front door an intruder. And they were treated as such. Knock on my door and a half pound of mother bird fury with a kind of jack in the box effect would come shooting out of the tree. This sudden motion would certainly catch your attention.......more than one person screamed.

Startled by a Starling.....

So we all gave her a wide berth and graciously respected her brief encampment. I mean how long could this whole process take? With a nod toward fragility, Mother Nature can claim an absolute triumph in how quickly the system works. Stop watch in hand from egg to flying is about a month. So as long as the mother tolerated us, the eggs by the door was an interesting conversation point. If a frightened guest was even in a mood to hear the story.

But then one more wind storm and you guessed it, the tree fell over. That scary-baby-cradle rhyme came to mind. "When the wind blows the cradle will fall and down will come baby, cradle and all." Doesn't that rhyme trouble you?.....When you listen carefully you find out some psychotic mother has not only put her baby in a tree, but the tree top. Isn't that odd? At least this mother bird fastened down her nest, and bird nests, unlike babies actually belong in trees. However her due diligence didn't spread far enough to notice the tree was not actually in the ground but instead in a rather fabulous container on either side of a red door.

That's right my front door is red...

So now what? I put the baby birds back in the nest as per the bird people's advice. They assured me it was an old wives tale that mother birds won't come back. So I put the nest back in the tree..along with the love starved and worm deprived baby birds. (As an aside, mother birds need to get a little better choosing the components for their nest building. Poop as mortar is disgusting, and would never pass code.)

I have tried feeding them, because I can't just stand idly by while "nature takes its course". However, I am highly annoyed that the mother didn't come back. She did not finish her game. And I am left with 5 baby starlings. The mother bird and I had an implied contract that I would leave her alone and encourage my visitors to duck as she flew at them... and she would use my tree to add five more starlings to the world's population.

I fulfilled my portion of the contract, she did not. Her portion of the contract is now null and void and I get to take back ownership of the tree. Only I don't want the birds.

So please, can someone come and get them? There must be a Mother Theresa of baby birds out there. My approach is mostly Elmer Fudd on this one.....help!

10 Tips for writing a better blog, or 100 monkeys..

As always, I, your faithful servant, I look each day for a way to ease your pain, light your way and whiten your teeth....

Take this out for a spin......ten tips for writing a better blog.... http://www.problogger.net/archives/2005/12/30/tens-tips-for-writing-a-blog-post/

It will of course be accompanied by my pithy and clever remarks, simply because I cannot leave well enough alone… After reading this list I thought for a moment that I was back in college listening to Maryilyn Arnold, and her shoes, yell at me for my long winded prose. (she always wore the worst shoes) So here they are, let me know what you think.

· Make your opinion known

This seems fair, we are all in the information business and we love to know how others are dealing with life. It is comforting to me to find out that just like the 100 monkeys someone on a far shore is cleaning their grapes too. Oh, you don’t know about the 100 monkeys? Hmmmm, that will have to wait for another blog.

Link like crazy

Read other blogs, leave comments, and they will read yours.

It is a great way to find out what works and what doesn’t. I have already found that people love to be inspired, they love to read about hope…and anything too long is a waste of time.

Write less

OK.....enough said.

250 Words is enough

I am already coming in at 283, and I am only half finished…..yikes!

Make Headlines snappy

This is the hallmark of the New York papers. And the shame of tabloids.

Write with passion

One thing I know about readers they can spot insincerity immediately. But they will read you forever if you are passionate. We all have our “better angels” and it is good to be reminded of them. Good writers help you look for your better angels .

Include Bullet point list

I am terrible at this, my computer skills are lacking, so I feel a constant struggle between what I can do and what I wish I could do on the computer. If only the computer would take verbal commands.

Edit your post

Dang. But it is true! Every little word becomes your child…however embrace the truth that most readers don’t care about your children the way you do.

Make your posts easy to scan

My favorite blogs are fast, easy and fun. See Crash Test Dummy on this. She is fast, clever and the pictures are great.

Be consistent with your style

This seems easy, however being consistent is a bear. It is part of the discipline isn’t it?

Litter the post with keywords

What does that mean? What does it mean to you? I am not sure I have a clear idea on this one.

Regardless of where you are on the blog scale these ideas can be helpful...or not. Let me know.

As ever, your faithful servant,

Donna

P.S. By the way, I formatted the blog this way today, because I could not do anything else. Even my blog won't do what I want.

Celebration!!

Had to come back and let you know......IT'S OVER!!

I did it, I returned to the DMV.....I went at almost 4:30...they close at 5, this is a tip from my husband. If you are in near 5, they want you out....so they work hard to that end.

The computer that was down was now up....all the hamsters were running the same way in the little spinner thing so they were able to verify my existence.

They allowed me to line jump, gave me a number, which came up immediately, I was seated quickly with a very nice woman who went through her questions fast, fast, fast. I took the eye test...one side? 20/10... hooray! the other side? 20/200 - one eye for far away one eye for up close....they average it to 20/40.....hmm, don't ask.

then...

...another line jump for my gorgeous picture.....

Back to the first woman who collected money for the whole process...she told me the drivers license will come in the mail.

Bye, bye!! Thank you for coming!!

Moral of the story? The DMV workers are like fireman when it is almost 5.

And because there is no education from the second kick of a mule, I will never go to the DMV before 4 PM again.

Another lesson learned..

Ripped off and stupid at the DMV

OK, here it is my ongoing grind with the DMV.....a sad and troubled tale of an innocent woman (me) forced to go to the DMV....it is almost a country western song, certainly Ibsen, but mostly a crime!

Want to know what happened? Well here it is. Remember when I told you I got a ticket? For speeding and having better eyesight? That's right in Wherever Nevada I was going 10 miles over the speed limit and I didn't have my contacts in. I wasn't wearing my contacts because my eyes have been healed by a wonderful procedure called lasik surgery. I can see without contacts or glasses!! It is a miracle..but who knew I had to tell the DMV.

Wrong. So wrong. This is something of huge interest to the DMV..because your license must go from "needs corrective lenses" to "Oh my gosh this girl can see!"

So I went to the DMV to have my license changed so that perhaps the good people in Wherever Nevada won't carry out their plan to fine me 106 dollars for driving with better vision. I found all the information I am now forced to carry when going to the DMV...birth certificate, marriage license, social security card, 2 bills from utilities stating your address, your previous driver's license and a partridge in a pear tree. So much work and aggravation. But I have news for you, after all this I will not feel the least bit sorry about reporting my weight on my new driver's license as......125....I shall say it with no qualms, no guilt...after all I have put more planning into this trip to the DMV than Eisenhower did for D-Day. Noah had less stress looking for 2 of everything....

I apply lipstick in anticipation of a gorgeous picture that will stay with me for years and go boldly into the bright Nevada day - destination DMV.

I wait in the "information" line for one hour. When it is my turn (yea me!!) I don't even have time to show how completely prepared I am for this visit with all of my papers and documents when the woman behind the counter tells me the social security computers are down and they cannot process my request. NEXT!!!

WHAT???! I am incredulous...so I patiently ask, "are you telling me I have waited in this line on the last possible day I can pay my ticket, for one hour, only to be told I cannot possibly be helped because the social security computers, that have nothing to do with driving, are down?"

"That's right...Next!"

(evidently the social security computers are in charge of verifying your card. So why do I have a card? I should spare myself the added weight of carrying the card and just let a computer verify me...oh wait the COMPUTERS ARE DOWN!!)

I stand there and look at her, not yet willing to give up my hard fought place at the counter....I do not believe what I am hearing...so she repeats it. Sort of like when I speak to someone who only understands Spanish and I think I can fix our language barrier by talking louder.....

"you can talk to my supervisor.....NEXT!" I think she yelled...

"Is she as charm-free as you are?"

The DMV woman is strangely quiet and I am not sure she what she may do....but she simply glares at me and says again..."talk to my supervisor."

They must have all gone to a rehearsal because the supervisor says the same thing, only adds I can wait to see if the computers come back up. So more waiting....I wait an additional hour and a half, I buy a diet coke, it is a fountain drink - no refills - $1.75....what? I am ripped off and stupid at the DMV.

Still waiting....but now I realize I have to go....this is just wrong.

So I leave the DMV. For now, I will be back.

I wish Donald Trump would take it over. He could fire all of these people and put Sharon Osborne and Cindy Lauper in charge....I would enjoy that. It would be fun to see Donald, Cindy and Sharon working at the DMV......But this is no fun.

Now I have to go back.....at the end of the day. There is still no guarantee I will get my drivers license renewed today. And no phone number to call to save a trip. I must go there, and ask if the computer is back up.

And here is the funny part, I prayed before I went in that I would have patience during my incarceration at the DMV!!

Failed at patience, failed at getting a license....that's why I put chips and salsa on my blog.....

all is well with the world if there are plenty of chips and salsa.

Stay tuned....

We both like Tomatoes.....

I grew up in Kemah Texas about thirty miles south of Houston, right on the Galveston Bay. My grandmother Minnie lived next door with my grandfather, the noble Horace, and his mother., Mee-Maw, lived out back of their house in the cutest little cottage by the chickens and the grapes.  My Aunt Alene and Uncle Hugh lived across the street with my three crazy cousins, Michael, David and Craig. I was my grandmother's only granddaughter, a very good position to have.

My grandparents had a business in their home and employed lots of folks.  These people were wildly divergent, they were from China and Mexico, French people from Louisiana (that is also where my Mee-Maw was from) and one person from Oklahoma....which according to my grandfather was a very bad place to be from....and that's another story. Then there were the women who worked in the house and took care of me.  It didn't occur to me that we were all that different. We ate together, worked together and laughed together.....I thought we were the same.  

And then I got a little older, and realized the world looked at people differently than I did.

One day my dad took me to the quarter horse races. It was a great time, with lots of Barbecue and as many cokes as I wanted.  It was also the first time I saw a sign that said, "white bathroom" and then another sign that said "colored bathroom".  And the same sign over the drinking fountains... White drinking fountains, colored drinking fountains.  I didn't understand what that meant but didn't ask anyone. I felt like I had walked in on a big secret, a really confusing secret.  Our personal histories dictate how we react to life and my history was I loved the people I grew up with...my crazy cousins, my uncle Homer who drank all the time, Tom from China who grew the most beautiful roses, the men who took care of the horses, the women who worked for my grandmother.....they were all family. But these signs stated that half the people in my life couldn't drink out of the same water fountain, or use the same bathroom as I did.  It made no sense.  And then one day the answer came in a way a 6 year old could understand. My mother and I were taking Rosie, a woman who worked for us, home.  After we dropped her off we went into a black grocery store and my mother handed a brown paper bag to me so I could pick out some tomatoes.  I started putting them in the bag and as I was getting the last one I needed a black woman reached for the same tomato.  She pulled her hand back in deference to me.  Everything seemed to stop for a minute and then a voice came into my head...."See?  you aren't different, you both like tomatoes."  That was the way a simple truth was taught to me.

I wish we were further ahead, we can always be better, but it isn't what it was.

I woke up today not quite sure what the problem was. But to be sure there was a problem. I tried to decide what I should do first.....my list grows in the night. And none of it seemed fun.

Problem one. No fun, and nothing on the horizon.

Being a woman of solutions I tried to figure it all out. Nothing was coming.

My daughter is sick on the couch, I have a ticket due tomorrow, my house is dirty, there are weeds where there should be flowers, and I am turning into one of those women on TV that needs an intervention because she has so much stuff... FEMA may be called in for my bedroom. On second thought if I am declared a disaster I could get government assistance, and then I could call that cute guy from extreme home makeovers. However it would require everyone seeing my bedroom.....not going to do that.

More problems....I am not running out of problems, just solutions...

I started with the kitchen floor, which led to the washing machine, which led to sweeping outside, (as my mother would say, "they are all going to track it right back in!! Sweep outside!) which led to the ticket....there it was, staring at me...the due date screaming!!

The solution for the ticket is not as simple as writing a check. You see last summer I had lasik surgery, no more contacts! But who knew you had to have your drivers license changed from restricted to not restricted? Who would willingly go to the DMV? We only go there when we are forced, we need deadlines, we need someone chasing us to get us there!! Not just "shoulds". What's a should? I spit on shoulds...no, I didn't willingly to go to the DMV to have my drivers license changed. So when I got pulled over for speeding in totally-rural-Nevada, I had the great good luck to be facing Dudley Do-Right who knew all the laws. He was surprised, shocked, and horrified that I didn't run down to have my drivers license changed as soon as the eye surgery took. In fact he wrote on my ticket that I "claimed to have lasik surgery". Hmmmm, I've got news for Dudley my eyes were so bad I couldn't have put the key in the ignition much less drive without contacts...I am not claiming anything...but now I have a problem. I have to go down to the DMV and have my drivers license changed today. Yikes.... Then I think, "what if I have it changed and I still have to pay the fee?" Why go? Just pay the fine... it is due tomorrow, unless I drive to Wherever-Nevada and talk to a judge how will it be lowered? Trouble on trouble...so I finally on the phone, I get through to an actual person and she listens...she really listened to me. and she helped me...She offered a continuance, giving me plenty of time to get the license fixed, She told me to send a note to the judge...a nice note, (she specified that for some reason) then will rule and then I will pay. But a lowered fine.

Just like that...problem solved...a great solution!

Someone I don't know, will never meet...saved my day. Because somehow this unknown woman giving me a break made all the other problems I had on my list suddenly doable. I now have the strength of ten women. All because one person was reasonable, and kind.

I love it....I am going to do it for someone else. Today, no waiting! And I think the key is to do something life altering early in the day, that way people will have a great day, all day.

BTW...have you seen the icon I use for my blog?...I am a queen!! (self professed but a queen nonetheless) I can offer clemency. So line up little chickens tell me what you need. I will fix it for you!

The fun I will start with is celebrating my son Trey's birthday. Happy Birthday Trey!! Mommy loves you....always.

I have used this blog to explore my thoughts and improve my writing. I spend a lot of time trying to get everything just right. But I am not going to do that this time. One take, one opportunity to put my words down. I hope I do this justice.

I am writing this very late at night, especially for me...two nights a month I meet with six other Planning Commissioners for our county and sort out land use situations. For the most part it is interesting, and useful. I think we are a helpful group, we keep people from having a land fill in their front yard, too many cats in their homes and we keep businesses where they belong, doing what they are supposed to do.

It's not usually exciting, the items come along, and we deal with them with the help of the full time planners for the county. There are lots of rules to follow, and we do our best. Occasionally neighbors get together with torches and pitchforks and cause a big scene...but usually we hear an item, make a decision and vote on it...next...

Tonights meeting was really long...but we finally finished and the last order of business was public comment. Very few times has anyone stayed for the whole meeting......whole, long meeting....to offer anything for public comment. But tonight someone did.

A man came to the podium introduced himself and told a sad story of problems and then redemption. But then he looked at us and said that he had been recently stopped, or pulled over, whatever you want to call it. He panicked and ran. Now all the trouble he had put behind him was with him again. All because he ran. The sorrow in his face was palatable, he was so sorry...but it was done, and now he had no idea where to turn. Our chairman explained we couldn't help, we are land use board. He gave him ideas about who might be able to help him, but explained our limitations.

And then he said the worst thing of all....."No one can help me, no one hears me. I don't have money or influence......" He was simply hopeless. And I was profoundly changed.

The exchange that went on after that was unthinkable. My dear friend and fellow planning commissioner told of the eight times he had been pulled over for no reason. Simply being black...he told the man at the podium how his father had warned him that it would happen in his life and how to react when it did. What? Eight times? Cliff? What? Does this really happen?

Please know I am bright white, I am Nordic white...the extent of the prejudice I have experienced is some bad blond jokes and a few polygamy jokes - I am Mormon...I hate polygamy jokes, but it isn't even worth mentioning in this context. I felt so many different emotions in that few minutes..., acrimony, outrage, incredulous-ness (is that a word?) but I settled on sadness. I was sad that it happened, sad that he was back where he started after doing all he could to change. Sad that he wasn't able to explain to anyone who would listen that he had changed, and even hope they would believe him.

He was stuck. Stuck being black with a record.....and I guess for that there isn't redemption. I guess he doesn't get to change. No matter what he does he is going to be black with a record...someone who can't be trusted, someone who can't move on, someone who is judged and found guilty.....of being black with a record.

I saw him face to face. I saw the pain, and the hopelessness. And I hurt. But he is wrong about not being heard. I heard him, and no matter what he changed me. Staying for that whole, long boring meeting was worth it for a bright white girl to feel some of his pain...and be changed

"The Quality of Mercy is Not Strained..."

I apologize to anyone who might be offended by this picture (if you look closely you can see the legs are just legs attached to the stool, not actual Nun legs)...It's a pretty funny picture that made me remember an incredible nun from my far away past. Sister Mary Rose. When I moved to Las Vegas from Kemah Texas I had never met a nun before, so how was I to know one could impact my life so profoundly?

After we moved to Las Vegas my parents decided I wasn't weird enough as the only 14 year old with a loud Texas twang and, did I mention LOUD Texas twang?...in Las Vegas.. So they sent me to Catholic school to insure my feelings of awkwardness. All of the kids at Bishop Gorman High School had gone to school together since kindergarten so my chance at making even one friend was pretty slim. School hierarchy is a difficult system to overcome. I remember once in second grade when a new kid moved in from Tennessee we stared at him for a week. His dad was a NASA scientist but we all thought the coolest thing about him was that he was from Tennessee!

Sister Mary Rose was the oldest nun at Gorman, dean of girls and teacher of great classics in English. The impression she left on me was immeasurable. She is the reason I started searching for religion...because of her devotion I wanted to find something to believe in as much as she believed. I think Sister Mary Rose would have laughed at this picture.

Sister Mary Rose decided we were smart enough and she was brave enough to read the "The Merchant of Venice". I was amazed at how I felt reading that play. I didn't know anyone could put words together like that. And for the first time I realized what could be conveyed with just a few simple words arranged on a piece of paper. I didn't know that words could make you feel things spontaneously. It was magic.

Sister Mary Rose was serious about Shakespeare. We read every day, we looked up words, we researched the history of the time, and we learned about the Jewish religion when Shylock came into the play...we studied Venice, and I found out that women could be named Portia. And then of course we memorized. We memorized lots of things but I remember this from my first Shakespearean play......Portia calls for mercy for Antonio to Shylock.....

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

It was magic.

That same year we studied "a Midsummer's night Dream". A character in that play is one I have loved ever since. ......Puck....I wanted to be Puck then, and I want to be Puck now.

Puck is the wild card, he is outrageous....he is pure crazy fun. Who wouldn't want to be known as "pure crazy fun?"

So that is what Sister Mary Rose did for me...she introduced me to my favorite author. She added something to my life that never left me....and all these years later I can still recite..."the quality of mercy is not strained......"

We never know the influence we can be on other people, my advice is to first, always behave....it has been my experience that when you least expect it someone will spot you from across the room, walk over and say, "aren't you Minnie's granddaughter?" And when that happens you better not be up to something.

I would love to be an influence on someone the same way Sister May Rose was for me. I know she would be happy that I found a religion I can be as dedicated to as she was to hers. I know she would be pleased that I have gone on to read lots of Shakespeare....and I hope she knows how grateful I am for her patience with a goofy Sophomore that read Shakespeare with a loud Texas twang.

Don't Ask me how I am, because I will tell you.

While it is simple to be happy when things are going well, your team won, you lost a pound or two, it's different when life isn't so great. The fact is it's dang hard to be happy when just don't want to be. And you know what? I don't think you have to.

When I am having a bad day, I bristle when people look at me condescendingly and begin reminding me how I have it so much better than someone else. As if, at that moment, it will make any difference in my mood. Or they start with that tired old adage of "I thought I was bad off until I met the guy with no shoes thing"....Please don't... I need to feel this way until I don't feel this way any more...I need to process my emotions and please step out of the way and let me pout. There may even be a tiny little fit. I think it is cathartic, and necessary. I find it is constipating to keep it all bottled up, and just as uncomfortable. For what? So that I appear stoic?

Will it say on my gravestone....."Here she lies...our stoic friend Donna...we never knew she was suffering..how brave". No!! That sounds like required reading, or sensible shoes. I can't do it, I can't even fake it. If I am suffering we all suffer.....I do life by committee!

And besides my gravestone is going to read..."I told you I was sick..."

I want to be like my grandmother Minnie...no matter what, her shoes matched her purse, her silver was polished, and her nails were done. She had some bad days...she had some real bad days, but you know what? We all knew when she was having a bad day, we knew it and everyone she came in contact with knew it. There was no pretense, no forcing a happy face. She invented the "I am going to feel like this until I don't feel like this any more" philosophy. She acted on life, instead of letting life act on her. She was authentic, it wasn't in her to pretend anything...

Isn't that fabulous?

And when life is so.....I don't know, miserable? Why do we have to pretend everything is OK? We learn from each other's struggles, mostly we learn that bad times pass....and that is a comfort in itself. Bad days don't have to be forever, but they are reality. And sometimes when life gets to be really uncomfortable there is a up side...that's when I start to hope. I start to hope something incredible is about to happen. I do believe we are saved at the eleventh hour. And on occasion we are pushed to our absolute breaking point. And then we are able to look backward and marvel at our own strength.

It isn't a shock to God how we will react in a crisis, He knows us very, very well. Trials give an opportunity to know how strong we are...it is how we find out what we really believe it. We get to find out who we are, and what we are made of. Trials reveal our true character. C.S. Lewis called it "Rats in the cellar." From Mere Christianity....

Surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of a man he is. Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth. If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have taken cover before you switch on the light.”

The rats in my cellar are a constant concern for me.....but then they are for everyone.

So I give you permission to have a bad day, just put a limit on it. For say, I can feel like this for an hour, or an afternoon..in some cases a whole day. But don't go too long, I don't want your bad day to conflict with mine...and it is all about me.

Andrea Pearson Books: Spread-the-Word Book-Giveaway Contest

Andrea Pearson Books: Spread-the-Word Book-Giveaway Contest

Andrea Pearson is the daughter of a friend of mine. She has written a book called "The Key of Kilenya, released July 6th with pre-ordering starting on April 6th.

She has done something most of us only dream about, Andrea is proof books get published! That alone must be honored!!

When people read a book and like it they spread the word.....I feel confident excellence is always rewarded.

So follow this link and check out this great new author and her amazing book. I am including a description of her book...this has to inspire all of us..especially those of us determined to see our words in print...

The Key of Kilenya

by Andrea Pearson
Release Date: 1 March 2010

When two vicious wolves chase fourteen-year-old Jacob Clark through a gateway from our world into another, he has no idea they have been sent by the Lorkon�evil, immortal beings who know he has powers they desire to control.

The inhabitants of the new world beg for Jacob�s help in recovering a magical key that was stolen by the Lorkon and is somehow linked to him. If he helps them, he will be in great danger. But if he chooses not to help them, our entire world will be in peril. The Lorkon will stop at nothing to unleash the power of the key�and Jacob�s special abilities.

Price: TBD
Publisher: Valor Publishing Group, LLC (July 6, 2010)
Genre: YA Fantasy
Binding: Hardback
Language: English
ISBN-13: 978-1-935546-23-8
Product Dimensions: 6x9

We will begin taking pre-orders 6 April 2010.