Life

“Thank You” — The Art of Re-gifting

After a second helping of the Christmas dinner lasagna, I felt as round as the blow-up snowman on our deck that stoically waves to passersby.  I adjusted my stuffed body on the couch and grumbled, “I designate 2012 as the year of not saying Thank You.” Now, I know I’m not an etiquette queen, but jeeze, do folks no longer find it necessary to simply utter “thank you” once in a while?  Are thank you notes a thing of the past?  Heck, []

ULTIMATE Life Goal Answer Keeps Me Bare-Skinned

Today I heard the best security question ever.  But, first, a quick back story. In 2009 I took out a secured loan.  A small balance remained.  Presently, I’m near the end of standing naked in an allegorical spread-sheet format before bankers, credit companies, loan specialists, underwriters, and other such entities in the mortgage refinance business. “The underwriters would like you to pay off that 2009 secured loan,” noted one of the above persons.  “Please show the account that you used to pay []

Embracing My Sensitivity

I discovered yesterday that my sensitivity to spoken  words is a weakness, a fault, and a chip on my shoulder. Admittedly, I’m a sensitive person.  I can cry watching car commercials.  Tears flood my eyes when I watch adorable pet videos on You Tube.  A beautifully worded poem will cost my box of tissue about 10 tissues.  When a soulful guitar solo wafts towards my ears, the whites of my eyes turn red and I sniffle through the song.  Yes, I’m a []

Remodeling Dysfunction’s Murderous Stink

I grew up in dysfunction. I smell dysfunction’s stink in an instant. As an adult, some of the dysfunction from my childhood stuck. Several tragedies later, I recognized my behavior and how my behavior hurt others. My stinky self begged for a remodel. (It remains a work in progress.)

Behind a Murdered Man

I wasn’t shocked when a sheriff pulled into my driveway Sunday afternoon—a magnificent Sunday afternoon colored with a blue that only the Pacific Ocean can conjure underneath a cloudless sky. We just returned from an ocean bluffs walk where we showed off our beautiful and peaceful village to a LA visitor who arrived in the wee hours of the morning with our daughter and her boyfriend.  Pelicans soared overhead and we raced to get the best photo.  I kept my eye out []

Love Thy Neighbor. Seriously?

Love thy neighbor.  Oh boy!  I’d guess it’s a direct challenge by the task’s author.  The directive is akin to a parent’s demand, “Eat thy chicken gizzards.”  (My apologies to those who love eating chicken gizzards.) But as there are foods one cannot stomach, so there are “thy neighbors” that one cannot stomach.  Yet, we’re supposed to love them. Twelve years of parochial school education lingers in my concern about the divine directives. Today, one will not find gizzards or any kind []