Optimism

“Just give it some time, everything will work out,” Sally said, patting my hand in an irritating way that she meant to be reassuring.

“Don’t give me your optimistic line of crap, Sally. This is an unsolvable disaster and you know it.” Her never ending belief that things always worked out for the best drove me crazy. I stared into the mug of hot tea she’d just handed me, thinking how satisfying it would be to dump it all in her lap.

Instead I tossed my glasses on the table and rubbed my eyes. “I’ve looked at it every which way, considered every possibility, every scenario. There’s just no way to deal with this that results in anything at all that’s good for me.” . . .

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Entrenched

Jeremy was entrenched in his own power. Deeply. He would do anything to protect it without ever questioning whether the course he’d set with his command of power was the right one. The goal was to protect the power, not to examine the actions it engendered.

So choices like destroying others, or simply hurting others just a little bit, didn’t phase him as long as they helped him retain his grip on his power. Anything was acceptable if it protected him.

Jeremy, under attack once again, ordered his underlings to . . .

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Eldercon

A phone conference Elderbloggers (or any blogger) may enjoy participating in in the Elderblogger phone conference on October 24. You’ll find information and call in numbers at Time Goes By. It’s going to last several hours and you can come and go as you please.

I personally plan to be there in order to regale the other bloggers with tales of my checkered past, my improbable present, and my intrepid future. Let’s chat.

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Real beauty

This video is important shows a YouTube video from Dove’s Campaign for real beauty. I’d like to offer up a couple of versions of unretouched photos of women who are beautiful.

Here’s one Jane I know. And here’s another Jane I know. Now that’s real beauty.

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Secret Fear

It’s hard to pick out just one, isn’t it? At least if you’re like me and you have a multitude of secret fears. Fear of bird flu, fear of planes falling on my house, fear of running out of money before I run out of years, fear of ruining my children’s mental health, fear of dancing alone in public, fear of heights. Some are rational, some are silly. But where do they come from? What triggers that thought in the brain and makes it linger there, working its nasty influence on our decision making processes?

If I knew the answer to that, maybe I could make my fears disappear. I could dance in the aisles at a concert while simultaneously not worrying that I wouldn’t be able to eat because I bought a concert ticket. I could . . .

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Intrepid

The dictionary defines intrepid as fearless and adventurous. You wouldn’t think someone who spent over 60 years being fearful and retiring would suddenly change to an intrepid traveler, but my mom did just that.

She flew to Africa, unaccompanied. With nothing more than a backpack, a camera, and a local guide she took off walking across the Serengeti. They wandered for three months. Each time she found a settlement, she mailed home rolls of undeveloped film. It was my job to get them developed. She filled three notebooks with accounts of her doings. The notebooks arrived less often than the film.

As I matched photos to dates and stories in the journals, I began to feel . . .

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Stress

The worst kind of stress is worrying about someone else’s safety. Especially when you aren’t anywhere near them. A big explosion in Bagdad can send your stress level flying. All you can do is watch it over and over on the TV and wait by the phone, by the IM software, wait for some clue as to whether your particular soldier survived.

When someone doesn’t show up at the time they were expected, we react with fear and worry. We stress over what to do. Call the hospitals? Call the police? Go looking?

Someone has a heart attack and we pace the hospital waiting room, berating ourselves for not knowing CPR, for forgetting about baby aspirin, for . . .

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My morning walk

Click to see more photos at Flickr

My morning walk provides daily views like this one and more. If I turn my back to the mountains I see the Rio Grande valley below me. Right now there are a few hundred balloons bobbing about the sky in the valley, which makes for an interesting morning walk.

We’ve had a unusually wet summer, which means the native grasses are going to seed with abandon as fall progresses. There are many varieties of grass and I am fascinated by their different seed heads.

I also see bunnies, quail, roadrunners and other interesting critters each morning as I . . .

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Squishy

Dust turned squishy,
Drippy clouds
Hide the blue,
No noisy thunder,
But still,
Enough.

Enough to stay
A fiesta.
Enough to ground
The balloons.

Hundred of balloons
Wrapped and still,
Fans unplugged,
Burners unlit.

Rain, rain go away.

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My favorite food

It’s so politically incorrect to love a good hunk of bread nowadays. All those carbs slathered with warm butter. Egad! A culinary disaster. Nevertheless, I love good bread. The crust must be crunchy and the inside must not turn to mushy flour as you chew it. It must have some flavor—it doesn’t matter if it’s sourdough, rye, wheat, dill or chile-cheese—as long as it has character.

People are like bread. They need substance and character. Most of all they need . . .

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