The Good Boys

The Good Boys

As the NBA finals approached and the Dallas Mavericks began their cardiac therapy for all their fans, I began a chant in my mind, a little prayer.  A voice kept saying in my head “The Good will win, the Good will win!”  They powered back from behind many times and when they made it into the finals, I began to worry (a little) that Miami would be too tough and I didn’t wish any “badness” to happen to Miami, I just felt that the Good Boys deserved to win.  Miami set an uncomfortable tone from the beginning as they built their powerhouse team. But when they celebrated their season before it even began, I thought it was like opening a bad can of sardines. It smelled terrible and started their season with the entire rest of the NBA mad at them.  They were gloating before they had any right to do so, and I know a little of that bad mojo stayed with them to the end. Dallas played their hearts out and earned the championship.  It showed the Heat that you can’t win a championship just by buying some of the best players.

I have been a Mavs fan for thirty years.  Since I was two.. ha ha... so when the final buzzer sounded on that Sunday night I found myself in tears at the realization that they had done it!  They solidly won their place in NBA history.  I can’t imagine that you could find a team with more heart than the Dallas Mavericks.  The real fans have always believed and hoped and dreamed that this day would come. 

In the early 80‘s, my sister worked for the Hyatt Corporation in Dallas and helped do the set up for the meeting where papers were signed and the Mavericks officially became a part of the NBA.  The Mavs offices still have photos of that event on the walls.  At the centerpiece of the ‘signing table’ was a basketball that belonged to my young nieces and had been scooped up by my creative sister from her garage that morning.  The Mavs owners, the Carters, took the ball from the centerpiece as a memento of the occasion and the Mavs office later sent my sister a new ball, signed by the whole team!!

I don’t usually write about sports, but this has been a wild and fun ride. Thank you Dallas Mavericks!  The whole country (with the exception of Miami..) was rooting for you!

Dusty

Dusty

Our lives are quite busy most of the time.  Not much time for sitting still unless it is forced upon us, like when you have to be completely still for an MRI.  I am struck by the thought of how very little time is spent being still and listening to one’s own thoughts. I did this during a recent MRI. Through the first round of brain pictures, the technician did not plug my headphones in and I was forced to think of things to distract my body and mind from all the clunking and shrieking going on inside the tube.  Some people freak out at the thought of this confinement. Even without any official claustrophobia I felt a little twitchy. I have decided that spending small amounts of time on one’s own thoughts is enough.  If I could only focus on happy things that would be grand, but the noise in my head about applying for jobs, not feeling qualified for anything but chief laundress and poet (not very lucrative), what I’m going to make for dinner after spending two hours with a child that desperately needs help with homework, wondering if I’ll have time to take a walk for exercise to stay healthy/lose weight/fight my high cholesterol....  In this day of techno-bombardment, infotainment,  nonstop news and analysis, our thoughts take a beating and sometimes I use the rest of the world’s misery to help me drown out some of my own.   The noise of the mundane, perpetual neuroses that drone on in my ears is too much to take sometimes. Other times my own mess is quite preferable to the tumult of the world’s chaos.  Why can’t everything just be still for a moment?

My 85 year old mother has more stillness now than she’s ever had in her life. It sounds like it might be nice but it isn’t really. She played basketball into her forties, rode roller coasters into her fifties, wore high-heeled shoes into her sixties.  She is still keeping house after living in the same house over 50 years.  She knows every square inch of it and could easily get around blindfolded.  She can hear the dust land.  Dirt and trash set off a sonar-like sensor that drives her crazy because she wants to make it all go away.  Her arthritis keeps her from being able to do the deep dark cleaning she used to do, but by golly her house is far cleaner than most and she does what she can everyday.  Use it or lose it.  Doing something is far better than doing nothing when your choices get reduced by what life throws at you.  Don’t dare try to do any of it for her though or she might rip you a new one...Aging hurts. Dust hurts when you can’t do anything about it.   Your knees my not let you kneel, or you hands may not have the strength to scrub. You can feel the dust falling on you, around you and after cataract surgery with the lens replacement you can see it all better than you ever could. How maddening.  

No one wants the dust to settle. Not really.  Our usefulness gives us purpose.  Sometimes the more challenges we face, the harder we try to prove we can still jump the hurdles, in full make-up and high heels. 

Soles Without Soul

Really??? Really??!!!  I made fun of the secret French fashion society a few blogs ago but maybe I ought to sling a few arrows in the direction of Italy. As I see this year’s Idolettes  tromp down the stairway from heaven in their mega-platform, stiletto-heeled boots/loafers/pumps/sandals/golf shoes while singing and holding a microphone as they plunge toward terra firma at the bottom, it makes me nervous.  I think they should earn special awards for not falling to their deaths or maybe gift cards to podiatry establishments. I guess they look “hot” in the fashion stilts to someone. Do men really like seeing women wobble around like toddlers taking tiny little steps...oh.. I guess they do.  Sort of a vulnerable angle or something.  I remember my Dad saying once that women did not look as attractive in flat shoes (my Dad the fashion guru - umm not really.)  

I am such a wimp when it comes to heels.  I lost all balance and good equilibrium in the postpartum fog.  This doesn’t seem to affect many young mothers that I see running around town in their crazytall shoes carrying a forty pound diaper bag and a baby carrier loaded down with an adorable infant who has no idea that at any moment the whole magilla could go sprawling in all directions.  Many pick fashion over comfort and safety. Maybe they are truly as Herculean as they appear.  I am just sayin.... the idea of balancing on some tiny point, (and no you can’t convince me that platforms are comfy either at that height) makes me think they might as well let the foot doctor have direct access to their checking accounts. 

I am a shoe freak as much as the next girl, but count me out on this trend. I think they belong in the Museum of Interesting Shoes. Art, yes. Footwear, no.

Ashes

To give up or not to give up? That is the question. I rather like the idea of Lent and the practice of doing something different in my daily life’s routine--something that jolts my world a bit and makes me think about sacrifice.

I never really thought about sacrifice until I had children, but then I knew that if I had to throw myself in front of a bus to save them, I would, without hesitation. Moms sacrifice a good bit of themselves in the process of rearing a healthy brood. Let’s start with the body. I know that my doughy road-mapped belly will never feel comfortable in a two-piece swimsuit again (not that I ever did...). During pregnancy I did not lose one hair from my head or at least it was not noticeable, but right after childbirth and really ever since I shed like a darn sheepdog. After having children my equilibrium completely changed and made it impossible for me to ride a merry-go-round or even on a regular swing.. I feel like I am going to hurl on the simplest of rides. This is a bummer because I used to love all the wild stuff at Six Flags and could ride just about anything, jump off and turn around and ride again. I see the effects of aging in me much more than I see them in my husband (and we’re the same age) - my hair has more gray, my face is more obviously wrinkling, neck sagging etc. Let’s move on to the mind before I jump out the window... :-)

Now, what was I going to talk about? Give me a minute, I know it will come to me. Have you seen my keys? Where is the #!$*!@# cell phone, oh, for Pete’s sake, I just had my glasses... I think we have an over-accumulation of mindtrash - full of email, texts, phone calls, junk mail, schoolwork, workwork, guilt, the fighting off guilt, worrying about what you need to do next while doing two things currently... Who has the capacity to know where the kids shoes are? or where you can find a pen that writes or the match to all the socks??? It’s too much. Moms and Dads sacrifice time, self-interests, pursuits of dreams, souls? ( maybe the uber-moms...). I struggle with guilt when I pursuit things just for me... I am working on that.

I didn’t go into detail about our recent trip to DC, but the event was so enriching and enjoyable - even with 140 fifth graders! Sacrifice permeates the very mortar of all the buildings, memorials, and monuments there. Bells toll for all the people in our history who worked for something great, some high ideal, for the sake of all people.
I am always overwhelmed with patriotism when I visit that city. On our last day in DC, our school presented a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns at the Arlington National Cemetery. Even the hardest of hearts had tears at this reverent ceremony. I ran out of tissues and sleeves as the trumpeter played Taps. The young guards that pace and protect that space 24/7 know about sacrifice, as do the families and friends of all that are represented by the white stone markers.

It seems a little anti-climactic to give up chocolate, silly to sacrifice soda... doesn’t seem to have a great deal of meaning in the grand scheme of things. It’s not like defending a people’s freedom or throwing yourself on a grenade but maybe the little sacrifices are supposed to remind me of the bigger ones.

Why have one dress when you could have six?

Long time no post! I have been eaten up with the planning for and going on a fifth grade school trip with my daughter to Washington, DC. I'll do a post about that soon. It was fantastic. Every time I am in DC I think - How can we afford all this majesty for the little taxes that we pay? We have a great Capitol and a great country of which to be proud...more on all that later.

This is a little bit about the Oscar show last night. Our Oscar party included beer, pretzels, pita chips and was in my basement fun room and only my husband and I were invited :-) . When we lived in LA, our downstairs neighbor worked for a PR company that represented a nominee and on the big day, a lovely stretch limo arrived at our front steps and swept my neighbor off to the festivities... I was a little jealous.

I don't really care much about the whole thing. I am usually lucky if I have seen even one of the nominated films for best picture...this year I had seen two of them! Woooo Hoooo! I love it that we record it and start watching about an hour after it's actually begun. We skip through all the boring commercials, speeches, etc. Go girl to Anne Hathaway with her gorgeous display of designer gowns and for doing the twist in the funky beaded/fringed one! The blue one made me think of a shiny cigarette lighter and looked stiff and uncomfortable.....but it's not about the comfort. I am impressed at her ability to walk around in the shoes!! I couldn't beI think it is funny that at the end of the evening I could not tell you if James Franco had any wardrobe changes. I did notice that presenters were made to coordinate/compliment each other almost to the point of wearing the same tux just different ties... The women looked lovely as usual but too many people wore fleshy-blah-toned gowns that washed them all out. They all got the memo that beige/platinum/white-ish colors were "the thing" this year. It didn't work for any of them. The big jewelry designers were all on the same page too... so many people were wearing giant emeralds on their necks, ears and hands. I guess the emerald miners have a "deal" with someone to promote this neglected mineral.

At least no one seemed to have the spray-painted tan this year. I wonder what's happened to Charlize...she must have had a rough year.

Anyway, the only awards I really cared about were best actor and best picture and the only non-Pixar movie I have seen in the last two years WON!!
Without a doubt, The King's Speech was one of the best movies I have seen in years and years. It ranks up there with Shawshank Redemption and To Kill a Mockingbird. If you haven't had a chance to see it, make plans and go! Also, if you missed Toys Story III (the only other movie I saw this year..) I recommend that one too! Just remember to take a hanky. I have not found any woman, man or child that didn't shed tears in this one...

Cheers to you! I hope Spring has sprung where you are...

Shrinkage or Blimpage

In the borrowed cadence of a Longfellow poem, “Our consumables are shrinking, our consumables are shrinking!” To arms, to arms... The world of packaged goods wages a war on our pea-sized consumer brains on a regular basis. Packages shrink, or come in gigantic quantities or mini or fun sizes... Sheesh! and the hope is that we are not paying attention. Most of the time we don’t notice that a sauce that used to be in an 8 oz can is now 6 ounces. Instead of getting a half gallon of ice cream, a slightly smaller version appears for the same price as the larger one. I guess companies don’t want to raise their prices too much as their costs increase or maybe they really just want to make more profits off of less product. Companies have to make money, I don’t fault them for it, I just wish we could know when the packages change size. Some products come in different sizes depending on where you shop. You can get the MEGA cereals at the big giant stores and the dinky-sized things at convenience stores and have them cost about the same price... A “FanceeShmanzie” grocery store opened nearby and my food bills went through the roof. Oh, they play relaxing music, have clean floors, and take the stuff out of your cart, etc. and they are the closest store to my house, but they never offer to take the precious goodies out to the car for you unless you are at least an octogenarian... I digress. We pay a premium for convenience and still don’t necessarily get the level of service one would expect.

The sneaky aspect of the size changes drives me crazy. The stores try to help by labeling the price per unit so you can really compare the costs, but the print is so small you often have to look hard to find this and if you - um don’t bring your glasses to the store you are SOL. It all happens in such a subtle way that we hardly notice, and I don’t hear any organized marches or consumer advocate groups complaining. It just happens and we, the sheep of the United States and other places too (we don’t have the market on stupid completely cornered), continue to plod along like domestic zombies up and down the aisles, throwing things into the cart.

The toilet paper market really chaps my behind ( :-) ). Seriously, you can buy a gazillion tiny rolls that vanish into thin air in about five seconds or a six pack of ginormous rolls for the same price that don’t fit on a standard holder (whose stroke of brilliance was that??~!) Companies constantly repackage stuff, I mean really, it’s hard to make tp very exciting so they just make it confusing... If you buy a mop and don’t buy a ton of replacement mopheads, when you go to buy a mophead they will all be redesigned and won’t fit your existing mop and you will have to buy a new mop.
As much as it drives me crazy, this process employs people and keeps the mop business from going down the drain... okay that was bad.

Anyway, my most recent madness was when I saw some yummy Haagen Daas on sale and went to toss a few pints into the cart... and they weren’t pints. Here are some ideas for selling this new “Not quite a pint.” “Now fewer calories!!” “Less fat!”” “Reduced sugar!“ “Go ahead eat the whole thing, you won’t even feel it!!” “Now, easier to carry!”

If you have any examples of this in your world, I’d love to hear about them.

Finding myself or at least my glasses

The notion of finding oneself always seemed funny to me as a child.  Why don’t people just look in a mirror?, I thought.  Not such a bizarre idea. How can you find yourself when  you are always there, inside the body, the vessel that holds together your innards? At mid-life, the vessel I call my body doesn’t look so familiar. I don’t take very long looks like I once did.  As a child I spent hours making faces or practicing hairstyles or glopping green eye shadow and mascara to try to look older. There’s a foreign concept.. trying to look older.  

I need glasses now to read and I rarely have them on when I am getting ready for the day. In fact, right now I can’t locate any of the four pair that I own...

I get a shock now and then when I do have them on and really see the crevasses forming on my face and the drooping of the skin on my neck. Then I take them off and feel and look better..  I don’t worry about it too much and I’ve never been a very fussy person about my appearance (except in high school when I HAD to have the Calvin Klein jeans and wore giant rollers in my hair for an hour at a time to straighten my hair.)

Luckily, my husband’s eyesight is much worse than mine and I feel that this works dramatically in my favor. I had thought about asking Santa for one of those light--up, magnifying mirrors for Christmas, but after testing a few at the mall recently, I decided I like the fuzzy, unlit version of me way better.

Maybe nature’s weakening of the eyesight works on other levels, too. Maybe I see more gray now and a little less black and white.  I like the perspective that aging gives me.  It was fun being young and stupid, but I like getting older and wiser. When I ‘find myself’ in the mirror I see a person that likes to laugh, loves her family and friends and wishes all people had a more blurry view of life.