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Showing posts from 2014

The next time you're in line to see Santa Claus

Ah, Christmastime! My family has many traditions during Christmas. When our son was born, we were excited to add a new one--taking a picture with Santa Claus. We waited until he was 5 years old for his first photo with jolly old St Nick. We wanted him to be aware what was going on. We had seen too many babies bursting into tears as their mothers handed them off to a large, bearded stranger dressed in red. The Christmas our son turned 5, we dashed down to the Boulevard Mall in Las Vegas after picking him up from kindergarten. We stood in the long line with all of the other parents and children. As we edged closer to the front of the line, my husband removed our son's jacket. To his horror, our son's shirt was stained from top to bottom. Obviously, he enjoyed his lunch so much he decided to wear half of it. "Can you believe this?" my husband lamented. "Yes," I said with a deadpan look. "He's five, that's what five year old's do. They are

From the land of quarters

It never ceases to amaze me how perspective can change everything. A few days ago, I was playing Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe video game with my teenage son. Full disclosure—every once in a while I like to play this game and keep the fictitious land of Metropolis safe.  (this time around, I picked the DC side) Also, it’s a healthy way to take out aggression and let loose pummeling the imaginary opponents. However, I can totally see how these fighting games can lead to aggravation. Unfortunately, a person can lose sight to why he/she was playing these games in the first place. I was midst in the final boss fight. As my character of Superman was defeated yet again by Dark Khan, I let out an amused chortle. My son, who takes his video games very seriously, asked me how I can laugh when I lose. I immediately answered because back in my time, we didn't have the luxury of being able to save our video games progress on a console. We had to keep feeding a video game machine quarters

Red herring, not so much

A few weeks ago, I finished We Were the Mulvaneys and I really didn't want to see it end.  As I drew near the last pages, I purposefully slowed down my reading of the printed words. I wanted to savor the last morsels before turning the very last page. There was a Lifetime movie made of Ms Oates' work, However, I'm upset that the movie version of the mother Corinne doesn't have flaming red long hair. I'm not the only reader to question the casting of a main character. The fans of Fifty Shades of Grey were so vocal in their discontent of the announcement of Charlie Hunnam was going to portray the lead character Mr Grey, they started a petition to recast the role.   Why do readers become so enraged when a character from a book doesn't make the seamless transition to screen? Why should it matter so much? For me, when I thoroughly enjoy a book, the characters take on a life of their own. The personifications on screen should feel authentic. I remember a classmat

No ghost pepper of a chance

A few days ago, as I was walking through a pharmacy, I became keenly aware of the section named digestive health. I stopped and stood in front of the rows and rows of the different forms of antacids. From liquid to capsules to fast acting tablets, I found it amazing that there is a whole section dedicated to easing sore stomachs.  I remembered a commercial for an antacid that showed food, such as pizza and chicken wings, beating up people trying to eat. After seeing this commercial and these products, it started making me wonder: when did it become acceptable that it was painful to feed ourselves? For the most part, I avoid spicy foods. If a menu item has a flame symbol next to the entree, it's a sure bet they won't make any sale from me. However, every once in a while, my curiosity is piqued and I take a small sample of the latest hot flavor. Unfortunately, the results are usually not in my favor. For instance, when I tried a small habanero chip, I truly believed my mouth wa

Writing among the distractions

A few days ago, I saw a news report on Amtrak Residency program for writers . I must admit, this program was interesting--being able to ride on a long distance train where all my attention would be on my writing. The story also reminded me of biographical movies where famous, established writers go off on writing vacations. In the movie Hitchcock , his wife, played by Helen Mirren , drove off to a house in Malibu to collaborate on her own movie. In Capote , he jetted off for a year to Morocco and Spain to write the first three chapters of his famous book In Cold Blood. Unfortunately, these excursions are out of my reach for now. On the other hand, all of these destinations would be very distracting to me. My writing would probably take a back seat, as I would find myself looking out the train window constantly, staring at the ocean in Malibu or playing tourist in Morocco and Spain. Even when I was at a coffee shop with my laptop, I became entranced with an interview of a Realtor at

Food, thought provoking food

I have found myself being more conscious of food lately. I am becoming more aware of how I feel after eating: do I feel nourished or just full? I have always thought I ate fairly healthy, but have found there is always room for improvement.  It all started with instant potatoes. They used to be a quick, go-to side at dinnertime. Then, one day as I was washing dishes after supper, there were bits of instant potatoes left on a plate.  As the hot water washed over these potatoes, they turned into a thin liquid almost instantaneously. After witnessing this transformation, I began to question why do I eat these in the first place?  I thought it was for the convenience--the name says it all. It's much easier to tear open a packet and add water than peeling and mashing real potatoes. I couldn't shake the sickening image of the instant potatoes turning this watery slime  running down the drain. My mind was littered with questions: What was it doing in my digestive track? How could i

What memory is in your favorite song?

From the moment I heard the song " Where is the Love ?", it became my instant favorite. I was immediately drawn to the different styles of singing--Robert Flack's  smokey vocals paired well with Donny Hathaway's smooth baritone. Throughout the years, I have never grown tired of this song. The singers' voices had a bouncy and cascading quality to them. The instruments play effortlessly in perfect time with a steady, airy beat. I often wondered why this particular song changes my demeanor--I cannot be in a bad mood whenever I hear it! Though the song is about a love triangle, an entirely different association is in my mind. A childhood memory is conjured up: when I was a little girl, we would go to a grocery store when we lived in California. After the shopping was done, we would walk to the side of the building. There was a wind tunnel that was created by the way the neighboring building was positioned. As I put this song as the soundtrack to this memory, it fit

Robin Williams

A few days ago, as I listened to my Pandora's Comedy channel a routine by Robin Williams was aired. I smile sadly as I hear his manic and rapid fire delivery. In my opinion,  his ideas were bursting at the seams and he was always in a race to deliver his funny but true insights. I remember watching him first on Mork and Mindy and somehow my young mind knew the small screen couldn't contain this whirlwind of a comedian. I count many of his movies as favorites and fascinated by his range--he could be expectantly funny as in Mrs. Doubtfire and The Birdcage , then change the tone to serious at whiplash speed such as with Insomnia and The Final Cut . One of his movies that stuck with me is What Dreams May Come . It was not a box office hit, maybe due to its somber subject of death--after all 3 of the main characters die in rapid succession. However, I realized that the Afterlife is what the story is all about. How can you possibly arrive at the main plot without a smattering o

Mix Tape Madness

As the days grow closer to my wedding anniversary, my husband is asking what present do I want? This question turned my thinking to one of the best presents I received from him. We had met over 20 years ago and on one of our first dates, he asked me how my parents came up with my name?. This question had a "getting to know you" feel to it. He had mentioned he was named after his father's friend, a fellow Marine who had died in combat. I sheepishly shared that my name wasn't as poignant as his history behind his name. My parents had come from a long standing tradition of naming the young after relatives.  When I was born, they may have wanted to make a change, because I was named after a song they liked. He had never heard of a song that was named Diane, so I sang (read warbled) a few of the lyrics. A few dates later, he surprised me with a mix tape, a cassette tape with recorded songs.  (In those days, there was no Pandora  on your phone, you had to buy the album or

One answer to the question

One of my favorite things to do is watch CBS's Sunday Morning . I wake up before everyone else, brew my coffee and sit down to watch inspiring and uplifting stories. Sure, the program does begin with around the world headlines. However, I'm in the kitchen brewing my coffee, so I miss the latest depressing updates. A  few months back, I was watching a story was about the singer Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees. He still had the lion's mane of hair, but now it were of a snowy white color. The interviewer set up the scene with the announcement that he was the last surviving member of the Bee Gees and was embarking on his first solo tour. Yikes! Throughout the show, clips of his brothers were shown. There they were, young and handsome, performing their famous songs or still shots: scenes of Andy with his guitar, The Bee Gees (Barry, Maurice and Robin) the screen in black and white performing  as youths. Then, it switched to color as " You Should be Dancing " was perform

What are you reading this summer?

Now is the season for "beach reads" books. I always think of romance novels following in this category. When I was a teenager, I read many books written by Barbara Cartland . I must have reached my quota of stories about pure damsels being wooed by strong suitors, for now I shy away from this genre.  No, the book that is my summer read is We Were the Mulvaneys by Joyce Carol Oates. This title has been on my radar for years. The past tense of the verb was what stuck in my brain. I was accustomed to present tense: We are Marshall , We are Family , We are the World .   However, this book's title seemed to have a hint of regret and sadness, which at the time didn't appeal to me at all. A few years later, I remember hearing that a Lifetime movie was produced based on the book. This fact served as a testament that it must be a true tearjerker and I once again steered clear. Recently, I saw this hard cover book at Savers on three separate occasions. Its position on the bo

Moving past deflated tire

Recently, I read an article in O Magazine about professional photographer Ashlee Wells Jackson . She has a body of work (pun intended) capturing brand new mothers proudly posing with their babies and their post pregnancy bodies, extra pounds and stretch marks not concealed by photo retouching. As I looked at the photos, I wished her work was around the time I had my son. It would have been comforting to see appreciation for the body changes. Over 16 years ago, when I was pregnant with my son, my body knew exactly what to do. It was as if it assembled all its parts and announced, "Gather around troops! This is what we were made for! Commence metamorphoses!"  However, my mind was like a conscientious objector. During my first trimester, I thought "I'm having a b-b-baby? No kidding? Really?" Eventually, my mind caught up and joined the program, marveling how my body changed with every trimester. After the customary 9 months, my son arrived and I was thrilled. A

Goodbye tomatoes!

Grocery shopping is mundane and routine, wouldn't you agree? I find I roam through the aisles in the same route as I do each week. I walk by, barely acknowledging the other shoppers. Yet we are all in the same mission: methodically filling our carts and checking off our grocery lists, either manually or electronically. However, a few weeks ago, something different happened at the produce section.  There I was, surveying the bananas,trying to find a bunch that didn't have many bruises. Suddenly, a little four year old girl with brunette hair appeared by my side. Her eyes lit up as she scanned the bananas, humming a whimsical tune. Soon, she scampered off.  I turned around and saw her mother wasn't far from her. Mom was standing next the the tomato display. My eyes focused on the little girl, who was now babbling to the tomato stack. Then, her mother called her name, telling her it was time to go. With a tiny wave, she sang, "Goodbye tomatoes!" I smiled, tickled b

Hardly knew you

Full disclosure--I'm a news junkie. When I turn on the television, I will invariably change it to a news channel. I cannot walk pass a newspaper without taking a peek at the headlines. Now, with my Smartphone, I can constantly keep up to date with all varieties of news. It's so neatly arranged in categories, such as Top Stories, Entertainment and Sports. Typically, the Sports section I breeze right through, be it television, newspapers or Smart Phone. It's not because I've never been a sports fan. Growing up in Southern California, I was a supporter of the Los Angeles Dodgers.   Back in that day, my parents were subscribers to the team's newspaper Dodger Blue. Within these pages, I could keep up with all the players, such as Steve Sax , FernandoValenzula and Mike Scioscia.  However, after we moved to Las Vegas and later on to Idaho, I slowly lost touch with this team. Nowadays, if I see a game with the LA Dodgers, I am painfully reminded that I don't know any

9 AM

The early morning sun rays spilled through Melissa's kitchen window. As she scooped the ground coffee into the coffee maker, she smiled to herself, remembering the events of last night. Going to the new restaurant was a spur of the moment thing. She had been a fan of fate and last night's episode only solidified her beliefs. She credited herself for the clever way she gave Vincent her phone number. She replayed their conversation in her mind. She pictured his face, his strong jaw and kind eyes. It was so easy to talk to him, conversations sprouted and flourished effortlessly between them. She looked at the clock and saw the time was 6:15 am. She was surprised she had woken up so soon for a weekend. When she retired to bed last night, her stomach had a tickling feeling that was excitement and it hadn't stopped. Her calico cat  was sunning himself on the window sill. She scratched behind his ear and sighed. "Well, Banjo, now we wait for him to call. Too bad I didn'

Revisiting Capote

A few weeks ago, I watched the movie Capote , starring Philip Seymour Hoffman . During the film, I had to keep reminding myself that it was not the real Truman Capote. The actor was so believable--he changed his voice, mannerisms and posture but didn't make it a caricature. My suspension of disbelief was out in the stratosphere. My memories of Truman Capote were episodes of the Merv Griffin Show . In my mind's eye, I see Capote dressed in flowing scarfs and a swooping fedora.  When he spoke, his voice quality was very, very, very unique. I tried to figure out why he was a frequent guest of the other talk shows. His celebrity insider stories were way over my head. I was too young to have read any of his books or articles. I would wonder why everyone would hang onto his high pitched words? I just didn't get him.  One thing I liked about him was the titles of his books, namely Breakfast at Tiffany's and In Cold Blood . I marvelled at the memorable and dynamic names of t

Trying to age with grace

During the months before the Academy Awards, I was reading Entertainment Weekly ’s article of the nominees for best actor and actress. As I looked at the glossy photographs of the Best Actress nominees, I began to notice a pattern. The women that were over 40 years of age all had utterly smooth foreheads. Not a trace of a wrinkle or worry line to be found on their lovely faces. When I turned the page to the Best Actor nominees, their countenances were rugged, all wearing the clues of time.   Even Leonardo DiCaprio , whom I remembered first seeing as a gangling teenager in What’s Eating GilbertGrape , was still looking handsome, but definitely matured. Just when I was about to resign myself to the fact that actresses will always look impossibly ageless, I remembered something. I flipped back a couple of pages and found the photo of Dame Judi Dench . It was so refreshing to see her fine laugh lines around her eyes and glistening shock of grey hair. She had aged naturally and was abso

Listening to the Silence

I have seen a handful of foreign films in my day. They have a distinctively different feel to them than American films. Obviously, they are in a different language, but even when the actors are not speaking, I can pick up on a different energy.  I attribute this to the broad use of silence in these films. For instance, the audience is watching the character do something mundane, such as sleeping, and there is neither background music nor noise. That led me to thinking how many times we fill our days with noise. Be it the television, traffic or conversations.  There are times I want to just bask in the glow of silence.  Then the question arose in my mind—can we really accomplish complete silence?  The times I want to eliminate distractions, I can still hear faint noises. If I’m outside, there are birds chirping, or the rustling of leaves as the breeze blows. If I’m indoors at home, not everyone is like me and turned off the television or not speaking. Nor should they-- it was my co

Impromptu moments

Being a mother of a teenager with Asperger’s Syndrome , I find myself coaxing a lot. Reminders and prompts are in my arsenal. I try not to nag, since I really don’t want him to shut down and not pay attention to the lessons I’m bestowing. There are new studies that the brain doesn't fully mature until someone is in their 20's .  Unfortunately, for me, day to day living can make this fact a vague whisper. Then there are moments that happen so unexpected that they are remarkable.  I finally watched My Left Foot   (thank goodness for Netflix!) The actors Daniel Day Lewis and Hugh O’Connor  were absolutely tremendous as they portrayed Christy Brown , the real life writer and artist with cerebral palsy.   As the movie progressed to the part where young Christy took a piece of chalk between his toes to write on the floor, I started to cringe. I have a strong aversion to squeaking chalk (though I believe everyone has a dislike to this horrible sound!) I muted the volume in the ev

Personification of calm

While watching Good Morning America a few days ago, I saw a harrowing video from Houston TX. It was an eyewitness video of a fire at a construction site of an apartment building . On the fifth story was a construction worker stranded while the fire raged on a few feet away from him. The video contained the audio of the filmer’s panicked voice, as she watched helplessly through a window across from the construction site. My heart leapt as I watched the construction worker swung like a professional acrobat to the lower level balcony away from the fire. Just when the fire ladder reached him and he crawled  onto the rungs, the fifth floor’s blazing wall collapsed. Thankfully, the construction worker got off of the balcony alive. As I watched other news channels of this same video (it was much easier to watch knowing that is would end in good news) I was struck by how calm and methodical the construction worker was in this moment of crisis. He really inspired me step by step on how to h

Where are all the DJ’s?

Recently, at the dentist office, of all places, I heard of the newest station in Boise, KZMG FM 102.7. I could hear the crooning of Kelly Clarkson over the harsh drilling of my tooth. I must admit, listening to this newest station was the most pleasant part of my appointment. Afterwards, I entered my car and dialed the call numbers into the radio. As I listened, I realized that I hadn't heard any disc jockey’s friendly observations on this radio station, just the continuous flow of today’s hits.   As if to answer my question, a disembodied voice informed the listeners to go online to request songs . I thought this was a clever idea—after all, we do tend to go to the Internet for everything.  With listeners submitting their play lists on line was another reason for no DJs. I made a mental check list of the other radio stations sans DJ’s – Bob FM 96.  and 105.1 Variety Rock .  I began to wonder—are we witnessing a new trend now? I am of a generation where DJ’s were well kno

In memory of David Brenner

Yesterday I saw on Twitter the sad news that comedian David Brenner had passed away . I remember his comedic stand up act and appearances on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson . I always thought he was very funny with his keen observational humor and distinct vocal delivery.  He definitely paved the way for other comedians like Jerry Seinfeld and Paul Reiser. However, my most vivid memory of him is quite serious.  When I was in grade school, I saw an interview with him on television.  He mentioned when he was a child, he cried so hard that his tears were blood.   Now I wonder: why does this snippet stick in my memory?  As I mull it over, I suppose it was my introduction to empathy. At this young age, I had never heard of anyone being so emotionally distraught that they would cry so hard to draw blood.  I found his flashback story about this so out of the blue. I thought the interview would be primarily showcasing is comic flair. Instead, there was a small glimpse into his pe

A Jazz Sky

Many a time when I’m stuck in traffic, I look up and name the sky by its characteristics.  With the rain storms we've been having recently, I've been calling it a Mottled Sky--the clouds have been bubbly mixes of charcoal and pale grays. Some past afternoons, as the sun is setting, the color of the sky is painted with light blues, smoky pinks and iridescent purples. These times, I named it an Eye Shadow Sky. My favorite is a Jazz Sky—that involves fluffy, cottony clouds and a sparkling azure sky.  I came up with this name a few years back completely by accident. On our weekend drives before our son was born, my husband and I couldn't agree on a radio station.  My preference was (and still is) Smooth Jazz, like Spyro Gyra or the Rippingtons .  My husband believes there are two kinds of music to listen to while he’s in the car: Country and Western-- take your pick! Though Country Western music is not my first choice, I do enjoy it; however, my husband thinks Smooth Jazz i

Regards to Tim Wilson

On February 27th, I was listening to The Bob and Tom Show on my computer as I was getting ready for work.  Many a morning, their show has kept me in stitches and made me look forward to Mondays.   Not only are the hosts hilarious, this program also showcases many funny comedians. I had tuned into the middle of the show, and had missed the beginning. I heard them interviewing comedian Nick Griffin , who was speaking about Tim Wilson , another comedian who was a frequent guest of their show. I remembered the first time I had heard Tim Wilson on their show. It was a few years ago, and I was changing channels on the radio on my way to work in the morning. I remembered my husband recommending the Bob and Tom Show, so I punched the scan radio button to their channel.  I had tuned into the middle of an interview. I heard a distinctive southern drawl coming through the speakers. This man, who I later learned was Tim Wilson, was speaking about a book he had written about Ted Bundy .   I was

Yea! Second place!

This week I participated in my Toastmaster International 's club speech competition and I came in second place.  I was surprised that I wasn't extremely disappointed. As one of my favorite quotes from an episode of The Golden Girls goes, “You know, that would have devastated the old me, but the new me? Just an emotional owie!”   I tell my son everyone wants to win, but since we all can't,  it's how you handle losing that makes all of the difference.Sure, I would have liked to have won and gone onto the next level of competition. Did my losing sour my resolve to try again? Absolutely not! I identified the areas I need to improve and will compete in the next competition in the fall.  I also found myself  focusing what I had accomplished. The person I competed against is a professional speaker, so I’m getting out of my comfort zone and strengthening my speech-delivery muscles. After the competition, a few people told me they really enjoyed my speech, so hopefully my

A page from King of the Hill

With Valentine’s Day gone by, it reminded me how different boys and girls are raised when it comes to the love department.  For instance, I remember a woman at my work a few years ago stating that she told her daughter to leave boys alone because they are yucky! Now, since all of my children (biological and bonus) are boys, I was offended by this at first--my boys are the exact opposite of yucky! Then I realized she was trying to protect her daughter. Then again, here is a prime example of how we perpetrate the double standard. If the girls’ parents are telling her boys are yucky and boys’ parents are encouraging them to be polite and talk with girls, how are they ever going to communicate?! How is this ever going to work? I thought of an answer to her (years later, my timing is spot on!!) using the characters of King of the Hill (no wonder it was on for years!): “You know, not all boys are like Boomhauer , only looking to date as many women as possible. And not all are like

What was that lyric!

A couple of weeks ago, I was working on an article for examiner.com about the Grammys 2014.  I wanted to mention Bruno Mars’ song “Treasure” as an example of a modern song with an older flavor.  I liked the 70’s feel to it.  The video was like it was filmed during the heyday of Earth, Wind and Fire, right down to the camera angles shooting into the dazzling lights on stage. Also, in my opinion, the lyrics were sweet,  as he crooned to his lady how she should realize what a “treasure” she was, not just to him but to the world.  However, when I looked up the lyrics on line, I jolted; I felt like someone had thrown cold water on me. The first line of the song had a curse word with the initials MF in it. I thought this website must have it wrong, but the more I searched, it became evident that this was indeed the true lyrics. I decided not to use this song in the article and cited other songs instead.  It’s not the first time I've heard a curse word as part of lyrics. I remember

Mark of Mimosa

Mimosa the cat scanned the living room with his chartreuse eyes. With a contented yawn, he stretched, arching his back and spreading out his white furred front paws. His gaze settled on the Lady sitting on the couch reading a library book.                 “It’s time,” he mumbled, which sounded like a quiet meow to the Lady.                 Mimosa effortlessly hopped onto the couch next to the Lady. As soon has his paws hit the couch, he bumped his head gently against the side of the hard backed book that the Lady was holding.                 The Lady laughed as Mimosa continued to rub against the book cover. He was bumping with such force that it caused her to lose her place in the story.  “Mim, what are you doing?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. She scratched behind his ear and scooped him up, placing him gently on the floor.                 Undeterred, Mimosa hopped back onto the chocolate colored couch and resumed his ardent behavior. He even padded onto her lap

Mental wardrobe

Idaho winters are typically wet, snowy and stone cold. The only way I make it through is having a good winter coat. However, shopping for a coat overwhelms me—I go back and forth between severe function and whimsical fashion.  I’m so glad my husband has this sixth sense and can pick the perfect coat for me. He uses simple criteria: it needs to be warm, water-proof and when I put it on, I still look like a woman. Proof positive that he picked a great coat for me was after I wore it, I received many compliments. The plum inner shell really popped within the wintry, glossy white outer shell. One comment that I heard the most was “I could never wear a white coat, I’d be too afraid it would get stained up.” I never considered the color of the coat to be a deterrent for wearing it. However, I had to admit this coat was the only item of white clothing I had recently. I do tend to steer clear of white clothes, believing it would somehow be a magnet for stains. I made a conscious decis

New Year's Resolution on Repeat

With the New Year upon us, it reminds me that I need to keep one resolution I made a few years ago in the forefront. I have had   lower back troubles throughout my adult life. It plagued me whenever I would vacuum, lift something heavy or put my socks on. All of a sudden, I would feel the searing snap above my hips and my back would lock up. I was literally down for the count. It’s just plain awful when a part of your body is out of commission. It wasn't bad enough that my lower back was in spasms—soon, the pain would radiate down my leg and cause this limb to shudder. For a period of two weeks, I had to completely modify my usual routine in order to heal. Even a simple task like getting a glass of water was a torturous ordeal. It’s times like these when you really appreciate your family. My husband was terrific—he took over my domestic chores without a fuss. Also my son pitched in and was very concerned about me. When I would slightly adjust my position on the couch and gro