Call me old school, but I miss arcade games and glow in the dark ice hockey.  Thankfully my all-time favorite is still around; skeeball.  Our little one just went to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese and I was shocked to find it is now more like a kiddie casino.  I have always loved the idea of earning tickets to win a prize.  There used to be SOME level of skill or modicum of thought involved in order to get tickets.  Now the games seem to have no redemption.  You just slap, slap, slap and pay money until you get enough tickets.  Recently on vacation we had to cross the casino several times going to dinner.  I saw rows upon rows of people sitting slack-jawed and staring glassy-eyed, slapping and slapping the button on the video slot machines.  They sort of resembled zombies, colored by the ever-glaring, blueish glow of the machines and seemingly unfazed by the chaos swirling around them.  I went to my first casino at 40 and knew immediately it was not for me.  Between the giant windowless, aimless wandering of it all, the flashing lights, and the constant barrage of noise it was literally too much.  My husband and I still laugh because I literally pulled him out and declared we weren’t going back in.  We blinked like dazed moles coming out of the ground walking blearily as we realized with some shock it was still sunny out.  WOW that is not a healthy environment; particularly for someone with ADD.  We had a budget and my husband slapped through his within minutes.  I’ll never forget I snatched my money back and bought two really nice looking wolf knickknacks with it instead of gambling.  I felt guilty before I realized it would have just been slapped away anyway with nothing to show for it except lost time.  I am sure casinos are great for someone good with numbers.  I am not.  So it is just not for me.  I could not possibly hope to add even the simplest amount or pay attention to cards with any sort of acuity and especially not while drinking!  I watched our little one slap, slap, slap with a frightening genetic similarity to her father and decided I’d better win her some tickets or she’d leave with nothing.  My daddy taught me skeeball when I was kid.  I do pretty well.  So I snuck away and got us enough tickets for her to get the little pink heart necklace she wanted.  I slipped them in her bag and after she was all slapped out of money her tickets were counted and she was so thrilled she could get her necklace.  She had 25 tickets left over and the pimply faced kid was about to trash the paltry amount with dismissive disdain.  Horrified, I asked Maris if I could try to get something with what she had left and she proudly said sure!  Pictured above is the little blue plastic sea star I now have as a keepsake.  Some people enjoy the experience and don’t need a take away.  I guess I really like going home with a memento at the end.  So other than an image of James Bond strolling like a panther through a casino in Monte Carlo, gambling is just not for me.  I’m going to do my best to instill the concept of earning in my daughter and thankfully “Slappy” (the hubs) has agreed he MIGHT have gotten a little too souped up in the casino that time.  I came across an unattributed quote on Pinterest once that said, “Chuck E. Cheese:  because it’s never too early to introduce your child to poor nutrition and gambling.”  Lucky for us, our little one can no longer have gluten, dairy, or eggs.  I am thankful the good Lord is watching over us.  In fact, I’d bet money on it.

When I was a little girl everyone said I should be a vet.  In those days, that really was just about the only option for someone who loved animals.  But I always knew I could not handle the sadness that accompanies being an animal doctor.  I wished I had been tougher but knew my heart could not handle it.  So to stumble my way into owning and operating a petsitting business as an adult was serendipitous.  For 16 years I have had the joy of caring for animals and I have often joked I would pill them but not shoot them (with needles).  Administering shots was not something I thought I could do and I did not want to use anyone’s fur baby as a pin cushion for the sake of making a new client.  And then along came Alamo.  For over a decade at least I have cared for his four-legged brethren (both canine and feline) and his mom recently told me he has diabetes.  Faced with losing him since I had never given anyone shots, I decided I must overcome my reticence.  I guess that year of in-vitro really got me comfortable with needles even if it was only on myself.  I know how to draw back the medicine, sterilize the area, and check the viscosity of the drugs like the back of my hand.  The real test was in not hurting Alamo.  Turns out he didn’t even flinch and I was so happy knowing I could do something to help him and his mother when she was away.  Famous French-German theologian Albert Schweitzer said, “The purpose of human life is to serve, and to show compassion and the will to help others.”  I guess you CAN teach an old dog new tricks.  😉

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart.  It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” ~ American singer Judy Garland

My little one recently had to have a chest x-ray.  It has been something of a shock that for four years my baby has barely had a sniffle and within the past few weeks we have discovered she is gluten, dairy and egg intolerant as well as asthmatic.  My response to the latter was:  “she’s got five belts in karate; she CAN’T have asthma!”  Well she does … for now anyway.  And she is handling it like a boss.  They wanted to make sure she did not have pneumonia so we went in for a chest x-ray.  The sweet woman explained everything she was doing and I promised my baby girl it wouldn’t hurt.  I told her it just takes a photo of your insides.  She held her breath as they took pictures of her little body and I held her small hands while they did it.  Thankfully her lungs are officially clear and they have improved by 25% since she started her breathing treatments a couple of weeks ago.  Looking at the x-rays I almost started crying.  “Mama, what’s wrong?” my little one asked.  Holding back tears I explained the last time I saw her heart it was beating inside my body.

I do tend to get up early (no later than 5:30 a.m.) and go to bed a little late (around 11 p.m.) but I have always known the importance of sleep.  Today is Daylight Savings Time so we “spring forward” to lose an hour of precious slumber.  In the autumn we “fall back” and “gain” an hour.  I have never found an attribution but I have heard it said many times than an Indian (Native American) once said, “Only a white man would believe you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket, sew it to the bottom, and have a longer blanket.”  I think Daylight Savings is ridiculous and actually detrimental.  And WHY must they always make it before church?  Daylight Savings Time is not observed in Hawaii, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, or the Virgin Islands.  I think they’ve got the right idea being on “Island Time” which, by the way, is no different than being on “Indian time”.  It means things get done in their own time.  Arizona also does not observe DST and neither does the Navajo Nation.  In Europe they simply call it “summer time” and it begins at 1:00 a.m. Universal Time (Greenwich Mean Time) the last Sunday in March and ends at 1:00 a.m. the last Sunday in October, which makes infinitely more sense to me.  The very term “savings” is a misnomer given that no daylight is being saved.  Regardless, the cycles remain the same.  Mother Moon follows Father Sun and they rise and set each day.  Our bodies know this.  So while I am feeling pretty accomplished right now I know the need for sleep will catch up with me.  And I will listen without shame.  Sleep is not laziness; it is God’s way of helping calm us, rest our bodies, and rejuvenate our minds.  In the meantime I think I shall pour myself a second cup of coffee.  God bless caffeine.

I have made no secret of my love for my Apple Watch.  In fact, I credit it with making me realize how sedentary I was despite the fact that I walk a lot.  I cannot go to any gym because they make me extremely anxious.  Between the blaring music, flashing television screens and weights being slammed down, or some instructor shouting at a group of sweaty people, it’s all a bit too much for me.  I far prefer the outdoors and watching the sun rise or set as I jog.  I made a New Year’s resolution to “make” my rings on the Apple Watch every day.  There are three:  one is for standing each hour, one for moving (calories), and one for your heart.  Of particular import to me is the one which requires getting your heart rate up for half an hour.  Instead using food as a congratulatory, at the end of each month I am treating myself to my all time favorite indulgence — a 90 minute hot stone massage.  It is the best reward for me for a month of daily running and, if I miss once no matter what, I don’t get it.  So I am trying to use that as the proverbial carrot to keep going.  Not only am I sore from punching and kicking in karate, it offers a soothing environment which helps tamp down my anxiety.  So now I have gotten two wonderful massages, along with virtual medals from my watch noting each month’s worth of consistent exercise.  I am trying to make this a habit like brushing my teeth; I want to get to the point where I simply do it.  When I don’t want to, or I’m too tired, I remind myself of the need to stay healthy.  American essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The reward of a thing well done is having done it.”  I hope to reach that point.  Until then I shall anticipate my next date with those heavenly smooth hot stones that await.

My little one went with us to our local library to watch us vote.  It wasn’t her first time but it may be the first one she remembers.  I can still recall going with my folks when they voted back when there were sliding curtains and levers.  It was always impressed upon me that to vote was both a duty and a privilege.  Now it is her time to watch the example we set and to learn the importance of making your voice heard.  Sixth President of the United States John Quincy Adams said, “Always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, and you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost.”  I have to say this is the most discouraged I have ever felt in an election, and I have voted in every once since I turned 21.  This picture of my little girl wearing my “I voted” sticker pretty much sums up my feelings.  People presume I am a flaming liberal because I care so deeply about the environment.  Others assume I’m a hard core Republican because of my views on pro-life.  I refuse to be labeled.  My mother was gently reared by parents who always voted Democrat as they felt loyalty to Franklin Delano Roosevelt for helping pull the country out of the Great Depression.  My father on the other hand was a staunch Republican and in fact worked very heavily on Barry Goldwater’s campaign.  They used to joke they were going to the polls to cancel each other out.  But they always went.  And they always went together.  This country needs to do the same.  With one presidential nominee spewing unspeakably foul things, and one whom I believe bears the weight of a good man being brutally raped and murdered in the streets of Benghazi, I do not know how to cast my vote between the two in good conscience.  Mama used to joke that in Texas you did not vote FOR someone so much as one voted AGAINST them.  I sincerely hope it does not come to that.  All I know to do is pray that this nation elects a leader who is fit to serve the highest calling of our country.  And may God have mercy upon us all.

Looking back I marvel that my mother’s hair remained naturally red into her ’80’s.  I cannot imagine the terror I unwittingly put her through all before I was four, about the age I was in this picture, and the age my little girl is now.  When I was around two and a half apparently I drank an entire bottle of Avon Skin So Soft and had to have my stomach pumped in the ER.  I actually remember the charcoal and that is was HORRIBLE.  I recall the feel of the cold metal table and can still see the avocado green dividing curtains in my mind’s eye.  Unbeknownst to my poor folks I also drank something at the vet’s office once.  It was the ’70’s and, not only were there no childproof caps, stores left bottles of all kinds of stuff right within the reach of little kids.  Fortunately nothing happened to me.  When I was three I konked my noggin on the corner of my father’s mahogany desk and it burst an artery in my head.  I remember blood spurting out in all directions and it getting all over the walls.  And then there was my finger.  I was playing with my friend and he accidentally slammed my left middle one in his front door.  By the time I got it out the top part was literally hanging by a piece of skin.  Blood was EVERYWHERE.  I kept asking my mother if I was going to die as the huge pool of blood continued to spread centrifugally around me.  There were no cell phones then and Daddy was out working.  We only had one car and Mama had to track him down and tell him to come home right away.  They say I still have my finger because I was so young.  I have no scars and I am lucky it grew normally.  I did have to wear a cast with a metal splint on top of it for almost a year and I remember crying because we were supposed to go to Six Flags the next day.  The crazy thing is I rode roller coasters and every other ride all with a finger that had been completely severed for over four hours not even one day earlier!  That was the ’70’s for you.  Now they have a jillion warnings about heart conditions and medical issues practically before one can even enter the park.  My sweet girl is facing two procedures tomorrow and I would give anything to take her place.  I pray with all my heart nothing is wrong or, if there is, that it can be fixed.  And then I think of all the parents with children who are in hospitals or who have had far worse scares and I am ashamed I have not remembered them in prayer.  I have always thanked God for our own good health but I have failed to pray for the good health of others.  That is something I will never neglect again.  Mahatma Gandhi said, “It is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver.”  So for anyone who is reading this, thank God for your eyesight.  Be thankful for the ability to eat, to get around, and to hear.  And while you’re counting your blessings please pray for others to have the same.  Achukma hoke.

I realize I have been remiss in not writing about a big part of our family — our cats.  All of them have a story.  We have a Bengal that wasn’t deemed “good enough” by a breeder (Elgin is marbled; not spotted).  Sweetie, the sweetest calico cat ever, someone just gave up but at least to a rescue organization.  And then there is Soleil and her kitten Giverny; they were about to be gassed to death in a shelter.  Soleil is unusual in that she is orange; statistically only about 20% of females are.  I call them collectively the “bad cats” but actually they’re all pretty good and they are super friendly like dogs.  I cannot imagine watching TV, reading or sleeping without a kitty by my side.  One even likes to “help” me bathe.  Years ago I had a girlfriend who didn’t have cats come over to watch mine and my condo while I was away on a trip.  She was completely freaked because things were different every time she was there.  Cabinets would be open or knickknacks on a table would be in a different place.  I laughed and told her it wasn’t a poltergeist; it was just the cats.  They get curious, or bored, or playful and move things around.  An all-time favorite quote of mine has long been writer Robert Heinlein’s “Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.”  The worst is when I cannot find one of them.  They have turned up everywhere from the attic to the linen closet.  One time I heard meowing coming from our master bath and the cat had managed to wedge himself in between closed drawers.  I kept opening them but could not find anything amiss.  Now all their collars have little bells on them so it helps us know where they are.  When our daughter was a toddler we had our cabinets “childproofed” (but also really “catproofed”) with a magnetized locking system.  There’s a knob and when you place it on the cabinet it opens.  I once looked and looked everywhere but could not find the darn knob when I was in the kitchen trying to cook.  About to give up, I glanced over and found Sweetie pictured above.  Notice anything??  Remember the bells they have?  They’re metal.  LOOK what I found attached to her — THE BLASTED KNOB!!!  She had been calmly watching me the whole time.  Then there was the infamous Thanksgiving incident on our formal dining room table.  The cat ran down the entire length of it, stepping in my good china, and stole the turkey.  I was horrified because it was my first Thanksgiving married but my grandmother-in-law just sat back and laughed.  I have a little plaque which reads, “Cats are like potato chips.  You can’t have just one.”  I know I cannot save them all but at least I saved these.  And they saved me right back.

When I was six I remember I got a poster at the mall for the wall in my room.  I think it was the first one I ever had.  It was of Miss Piggy with long, curly blonde hair and she was holding roses.  I’d always assumed she’d won a beauty pageant.  I kept that poster up for almost a decade.  I loved her strength and confidence and watched “The Muppet Show” faithfully with my folks each week.  I still have my silk jacket from the fourth grade that says, “C’est moi!” on the back of it.  I also loved that she knew karate but she was still feminine and spoke French.  I was too little to see her self centered, egotistical side and just took the traits I admired in her.  Today I realize I speak French and have been to Paris, I was in the Miss Texas U.S.A. pageant, I keep my hair longer and curly, and I finally started taking karate.  Kind of crazy.  This was my first belt testing ceremony.  I think I shocked my instructor when he asked what made me want to do martial arts and my answer was “Miss Piggy”.  But there you have it.  I started something I wanted to do my whole life almost 40 years later.  And I am proud to say I was awarded my yellow belt.  My husband and my daughter were there watching me and I hope I made them proud.  I wish my folks could have been there.  I want to set an example my daughter will follow.  Never stop learning; never stop trying; never stop aspiring.  I do not have a deep, meaningful quote this evening.  Rather, I think I will close with the song I associate most with Frank Sinatra:

“Young at Heart”

Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you
If you’re young at heart.
For it’s hard, you will find, to be narrow of mind
If you’re young at heart.

You can go to extremes with impossible schemes.
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams.
And life gets more exciting with each passing day.
And love is either in your heart, or on it’s way.

Don’t you know that it’s worth every treasure on earth
To be young at heart.
For as rich as you are, it’s much better by far
To be young at heart.

And if you should survive to 105,
Look at all you’ll derive out of being alive!
And here is the best part, you have a head start
If you are among the very young at heart.

It has always irked me that people will walk up to a little girl and tell her how pretty she is.  And, if she’s not, they’ll say her dress is.  But with little boys it’s “You’re so strong!” and almost never about their looks.  Participating in the Miss Texas U.S.A. pageant was certainly an experience.  Having never even watched a pageant prior to being in one I felt hypocritical.  I was baffled that mothers had literally groomed their daughters in the pageant system for their entire lives.  One came with professional stylists and another girl had a set of ribs removed so she could look better in a bikini.  I am not kidding.  The two girls I remember making friends with who were in the pageant with me that year were a barrel racer and a truck driver.  I admired them both and they were genuinely friendly and down to earth.  Frankly, I think they were as lost as I was in the whole thing.  They both came from small Texas towns and if you’ve heard that girls can be mean you have NO IDEA how vicious perceived beauty queens can be.  French author Ninon de l’Enclos once said, “Beauty without grace is a hook without a bait.”  Unfortunately, I saw a lot of ugliness.  At one point in the week we were scheduled to do autograph signings.  I remember this little girl coming up to me with stars in her eyes followed by a mother who REALLY did not want to be there.  She uncomfortably explained they were vacationing in Padre and had no idea all this was going on.  (The pageant took up a large part of the hotel and there were events happening all around between press, dinners, filming, preliminaries, presentations by the mayor, etc.)  I guestimated her little girl to be about eight and asked what her favorite subject was in school.  She looked momentarily surprised but then eagerly told me it was math and we went on to discuss her favorite books.  The last thing I told her was to study and work hard because that was what was most important.  She smiled shyly and said she would as she turned and waved good-bye.  That mother came back to me later and said I was the only one who did not call her daughter pretty — and she thanked me for it.