Happy New Year!

The first hill is 205 feet, second hill is 184 feet. Maximum speed of the Mamba, 75 miles per hour. Walking to get to the ride is all uphill and not for beginners. It scares me you know whatless and I'll probably ride it again this summer. Notice in the picture that young people open their eyes and even pose for the camera, while the older one closes her eyes and shrieks in terror. I used to open my eyes. Life is shorter for me so it takes on another meaning. I don't take it for granted anymore. With the new year upon us, I hope more people live their dreams, forgive their past and rewrite their stories. Failures can become personal friends that make us stronger.It's better to be able to say, "that didn't work" instead of always wondering what could have been. This year, I plan to write my movie! The walk to get there might be uphill and scary, but I'll do it afraid!

Happy New Year! Ride the Ride!

The Compliment

Your words became
the salve that soothed
my battered soul.
I feasted on them
like a gluttonous pig
savoring every sound.
Regurgitating L's and O's
to fill an empty hole.

Midnight Mass

Did you get lost going through the old neighborhood?
The tiny houses have pulled down their shades
to protect themselves from people like me
who peek into windows of the past.
Were apple trees on Edgemere Drive and where
is the turn to the Catholic church next to our
first house in Kansas where a little girl read books
to her mom who couldn't say the English words correctly?
Muddy memories cloud my way
but it's dark and cold and the music is playing
calling me home to the place that once was
my beginning.
The parking lot is full with sounds of singing
and the air is thick with incense and unfamiliar faces.
The present has blurred back to blue plaid uniforms,
little girls laughing and whiffs of bologne sandwiches.
Alleluia, alleluia, it's midnight mass.

Angel Angie and Her Wee Elves

What did you get for Christmas? A box of little pink soaps carved into roses that trigger a migraine by their scent? How about a beautifully wrapped picture of deer, racoon, birds and squirrels on black velvet paper? Lovely. My personal favorite was the silver windmill with snowflakes attached and a tea light candle that turns the windmill when you light the candle. I am so loved. As charming as these gifts were, my afternoon at Angie's house was this year's winner. It was a simple E-vite. Come to her house, bring food items, decorate bags and eat goodies.

The weather had taken a turn for the worst, with the kind of wind that pricks your face with sharp needles. I was greeted by an old black and silver dog who took painfully slow steps with eyes that spoke, "come in! come in!" Angie's house was decorated and warm. The white craft table swallowed her living room. Glitter, glue and stickers lay next to the white sacks that were waiting to be decorated. There were boxes on the floor filled with crackers, applesauce, toothpaste and various food items. Undecorated cookies and bowls of colored icing took every inch of kitchen space. The doorbell started ringing with children coming to join the party.

We made glitter candy canes and trees, assembled sacks filled with goodies. Several mothers explained to the kids that this was for people who didn't have presents. Angie had called three shelters in our area that needed extra help. What a wonderful idea and so fun! We had some great cookie decorators. Some had been so nicely done with licks of fingers and mounds of icing that they got to take theirs home, smiling with blue tongues.

I was impressed by Angie's vision while blow drying the Santa plates I had painted. That's when little Maggie told me her mother uses a hair dryer too. "To dry your hair?"I asked. "No, to dry Sophie's butt when she has a rash," she answered.

Children will speak honestly and openly, so set a good example and show them ways to help others less fortunate. That is our greatest gift.

Please check out Angie's website. www.lilestyle.com

Say It Backwards/David Oates

When I was a teenager, everyone in my town called the Time Man. He was a recorded message for the bank and you could call any time of day to get the time and temperature. I often heard, "I wonder what the temperature is, call the time man." So when I got a tape recorder one year as a birthday gift, I decided to record the time man and have him call you. He called at very inappropriate times which left the relatives puzzled, but soon I became bored of him. There was a stop, rewind and play button but it took practice. Especially when I spoke into it, making sure my pauses were correctly placed. I then would put my tape recorder under a sibling's bed, knowing they would be coming into the room soon. As the conversation played, they would even answer me and then scream when I walked into the room asking, "who are you talking to?"In order for tricks to work properly, they need to change, so ghostly sounds got recorded and put under the living room window where Randy babysat. In those days, most people left the windows open without the use of airconditioning. Poor guy, I'm so sorry, but we could count to five and he would be on the phone calling his mom. Today, I miss my tape recorder.

I think I met my match, well, he's actually the king. What would you do if you could record your voice, play it backwards and hear the truth of what your unconscious mind is saying? Creepy. His name is David Oates (http://www.reversespeech.com/) and he is the first person to document speech reversals in human speech with a career spanning 24 plus years, also maintaining a therapeutic and consulting practice. Wendy and I were totally blown away by this! (http://www.talkshoe.com/)
Conscious Living. You can download the conversation or go to his website and listen to reversals. For instance, there is a woman talking about how she needs to overcome her fear of money and wondering what the problem is. When her voice is reversed, she says, "I need to get over my grief." David says the reversal voice is a "sing, song" pattern, not monotone. Truth happily tells on us. This techinque has even been used in the court system.

Wouldn't it be fun to grab a tape recorder and try this? We would hear what we really mean to say. Invite the co-workers for snacks and conversation. Tell them it's a "Moon Walk Party."

Neil Diamond Came To Town- Ho Ho Ho

Neil Diamond sang to me last night. It was an oohlala moment for sure and then poof, he was gone in a flash! Whisked out the back door like an abracadabra trick in front of thousands of people on a cold Kansas City night. Singing men are like carnivals that come once a year and then disappear by Sunday morning church services. Pinch me, it feels like a dream. Neil's faith is a big presence. Growing up in Brooklyn was tough so he knows the heart of a street kid and the beauty of a flower that can bloom in a crack of concrete. I'll have to add him to my list of pretend boyfriends. www.neildiamond.com
Cinderella moments require fairy godmothers, sometimes you get two of them. One is about six foot four with the looks of a hardened gangster who's been around. His name is Richard Tripp but he's a gentle giant who is an advocate and front line man for the homeless in Kansas City. (www.coppinc.com) It was funny how excited Richard was when Neil Diamond donated 100 tickets for Richard and his friends, so he called Mrs. G for a little pondering. "Why would Neil do this, how did he find out about me?" he questioned. Mrs. G, another fairy godmother, had to remind him of the recent event they pulled off. Twice a year, Richard hosts a party for the homeless with food, gifts and song. There are clothes,shoes and toys packed sky high that are free for the taking. Mrs. G (Sandra Ghosheh, shh! she likes to be in disguise) gets 500 pies to be donated, books the musicans, rents tents with heaters and the list goes on. There were holes in the walls the size of small cats which made Mrs. G's bones hurt but she stayed to the very end and took one of the mentally challenged men to a shelter who had a fever.
"Ok then, I'll just take 50 of the tickets," Richard said, "but I want you to give your little red headed friend some." It didn't click for a minute since I thought I was a blond, but who cares, free Neil Diamond tickets, I'm a redhead! Unfortunately, Mrs. G caught bronchitis that turned into asthma and had to stay home.
Neil started talking about the homes he's building in Houston, Texas with all of the proceeds from the sales of shirts, hats, etc. Then he sang, wow, to the man upstairs he sings. Hold up your hand, do it for Him. "Do what you can, do what you can!" Neil shouted. I'm thinking about Richard denying himself 50 tickets, how I cringed when my five friends made a toast in my honor and that Mrs. G was home alone. Mary had walked with a knee injury to make our food reservations. Carol drove the others to Crown Center. Small acts of love made the event successful which meant we all pull rabbits out of hats. It was magic, pure magic! I can't wait until next year.

re-occurring?
reoccure ing?