Aug 16, 2012 |
Every time I walk into my mother’s house, it’s fresh. Revitalizing. Clean.
My mother doesn’t live on a dirt lot or have five cats. She doesn’t have any cats, but for the sake of drama in this post, I’m emphasizing the five cats she doesn’t have… and we do.
My mother’s house is the house my house aspires to be.
For the last ten days, I’ve been intensely deep cleaning Bedford Manor. And even the cats are sleeping better because of it.
I’m changing the name of my home to Catford Manor.
Two days ago, I received the best compliment ever. Dot and I went to lunch at my mother’s, and Dot said, “Our house feels this clean, too!”
It’s not that our house was dirty. But it certainly had plenty of hidden dust bunnies. I’d show you… but I chose to not document that portion of my efforts. Let’s just say I could build five new cats with the fur I’ve discovered recently.
It smells good. It looks good. It feels good. And because I’ve had several requests to show it off (and because I don’t want to be a fictitious magazine contributor like Elizabeth Lane in Christmas in Connecticut), here are just a few authentic reasons I love my Bedford Manor:
Welcome
Brownie Bear
Window Seats
Breakfast Nook Decor
My Old Dollhouse
Spar Oom
Narnia Room
Spar Oom Entrance
Hall Bath
Dot’s Room
Pinocchio’s Corner
Clean Floor
Clean Enough to Eat Off Of
Laundry Room Sign
And by the time you’re reading this, I’ll be watching this as my reward:
Lonesome Dove
Happy housing!
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 15, 2012 |
Hope, Returned.
Two weeks ago, Melanie Crutchfield challenged bloggers to post about Hope and link it to her Hope Relay 2012. As promised, she followed up with her own Closing Ceremony, honoring the many different definitions, views, and routes we each have to achieving hope. You can read her compilation, along with links to all contributors, here.
At the time, my offering was just being okay with what is. Sometimes, there’s hope in the unchanging. Sometimes, it’s okay to just be okay. Melanie inspired me to really reach forward. To create and keep creating that which goes beyond myself. To hope for something more.
And I do. I’ve tried to lose faith. I’ve wanted to give up, to not get back up again. I’ve wanted to pull the blankets up and the blinds down and stay in the darkness.
It’s impossible.
I’m tethered to hope as my life is tethered to breathing. I can not exist without it. And because of it, I’m learning to take each day as it comes. The little upsets. The big turns. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
Hope is a beautiful word. And it’s my Word of the Week. What’s yours?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
What’s the Word?” Wednesdays is a link-up that allows other bloggers and readers to share whatever they want to talk about.
Think of it as a virtual coffee date with some great friends.
What’s going on in your world? Tell us all about it!
A few things to remember:
- Each week’s link-up is valid from Wednesday through the following Tuesday. So if you link a post today, you can still come back and link another post tomorrow! In fact, you can link up as many posts as you want.
- If you add a link, please put the badge on your post as well.
- Each week has a new link-up. Please make sure you grab the correct Badge Code.
- Be sure to check out what others are posting, and even leave a few comments.
- You can now show your “likes” by voting for your favorite links.
So, c’mon. Join the conversation. After all, a great coffee date is one where everyone gets to chat, dontcha think?
Aug 14, 2012 |
Did you see the ending of the Olympics Closing Ceremonies?
Yeah… we didn’t either.
There we were, in the middle of me explaining to Dot that Annie Lennox is the voice behind the Eurythmics, when our screen went dark. After a brief moment, a message popped up that indicated it was a DirecTV issue, no need to call. Funny thing is, it was only NBC. All other channels worked just fine.
Well that’s fine and dandy, except it never came back. After 25 minutes I gave up trying. Since it would be rebroadcast in the middle of the night, we just set our DVR in hopes of recouping what we missed.
I hadn’t had a chance to watch any of it before hearing that NBC failed epically by cutting short the broadcast in favor of a TV show premiere.
Apparently, NBC thinks that a 22-minute comedy that features a monkey is far more attractive than seeing world athletes come together in unison and rejoice in the common goals we all share and hope for only once every four years.
Seriously.
I don’t make this stuff up.
So let me get this straight:
NBC wants ratings. NBC wants us to watch the Olympics… but not really. They want us to watch their version of the Olympics. You know, the edited, time-delayed, spoilers-previously-announced-by-newscasters Olympics.
I myself am looking forward to the next Olympics. Maybe these four years in between will give NBC time enough to learn how to do it right. Or, even better, let a different network do it better.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 13, 2012 |
There was no Great War, World War 1 or World War 2.
The Titanic had not yet sailed.
There was no Republic of China.
The New York Yankees were known as the New York Highlanders.
The first motion picture studio, Nestor Motion Picture Company, opened in Hollywood.
Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and the rest of the Rat Pack weren’t even a gleam in their parents’ eyes.
There was no Great Depression.
The Hindenburg had yet to be created.
There were only 46 Stars on the American Flag.
Elvis’ parents weren’t born yet.
Many other significant events, people, and places had yet to occur.
But this was one that had:
My Enclopaedia Britannica, Eleventh Edition, was published in twenty-nine volumes. It is indeed my treasure.
“There’s no history of anything until it happens. Then there is.” [Rachel to Roark, Volcano, 1997]
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 12, 2012 |
My daughter has an iPhone 4S. She bought it with money she received for her high school graduation. I, having not graduated recently, still have my two-year-old Android.
In the past two months, I have grown convinced that an iPhone is the phone for me. And this is my official notice that it is now tops on my Christmas List this year. (Or, Hallowe’en treat. Or back-to-school special. Or just “I’m thinking of you NOW” gift, if whoever-you-are is feeling prematurely presentatious.)
The differences between my Droid and Dot’s 4S, in no particular technical order, are:
- My battery no longer holds a decent charge. It stays plugged in to the wall 3 times more often than not. Even after being replaced six weeks ago. Dot’s battery has lasted her through four days of camping. Granted, she turned it off, often. But I know dollars-to-donuts my Droid wouldn’t have turned back on after Day 2.
- Her iPhone camera is far, far better than mine. I’d rather not demonstrate. It’s depressing.
- My Droid freezes up often when texting, or opens random applications (Calendar or ColorNotes, for example). Dot’s applications work when, and only when, she wants them to.
- My Droid overheats. Often. Regularly. Her iPhone never does. Never.
- Where Dot has chosen some amazing games and applications, I worry about adding anything new to my Droid.
- Her screen is bigger than mine.
- Hers is white. Mine is the basic black/steel looking frame.
- The iPhone has iTunes.
- The iPhone has Siri.
- Since we are an Apple/Mac family, the iPhone would work better with my laptop.
- Since we are an Apple/Mac family, if I had problems with the iPhone, my brother (whom I affectionately refer to as my unofficial business manager and techie guru) can resolve any such issue. Notsomuch with my Droid.
- Instagram. Need I say more?
- Because I do so much internet/social media work, it’s essential for me to have a dependable
hand computer smart phone.
I asked friends if they preferred iPhones over Droids or other cell phones, and the overwhelming response was
“DUH.”
Which leaves me with this one last reason to save for an iPhone:
- Because I want one. Period.
My dear friend Lisa thinks Apple should offer me an iPhone for a product review. I agree. But that’s just me.
Are you listening, Apple? Hello? Just a bite? Please?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
