June 2005

“So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man,
When duty whispers low, Thou must,
The youth replies, I can.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. - Elizabeth Stone

My husband and I have recently entered that phase of a parent’s life that fills you to the rim with pride but does so with a bittersweet shovel.

We’ve gone from taking our children to PLAY to taking them to WORK.

***PLAY***
They’d be ready before us, waiting at the door literally swinging it open and calling “Time to go!” (As though the park would close.) We’d grab our keys, they’d jump into the car and off we’d go.

We’d say something brilliantly parental like, “Don’t fall from the swings. You’ll break a bone.” Our children being the sweethearts they are would never roll their eyes or make us feel like idiots. They’d just answer reassuringly and tolerantly, “Okay, I won’t.” - as though the other was an option they’ll NOW turn away from.

When it was time to leave, we’d have to drag them away, stopping for ice cream on the way home, just us and the children that moved our world.

***WORK***
We’re ready before them, waiting at the door literally swinging it open and calling “Time to go!” We grab our keys and off we go.

We say something brilliantly parental like, “Don’t lock yourself in the freezer. Your toes will freeze off.

“Okay, I won’t.” Another catastrophe avoided.

When we pick them up, they’re waiting for us, literally swinging the door open and and saying “Time to go home!” (as if it’s going anywhere.) They collapse into the car and buy US ice cream on the way home, just us and the children that move our world.

Make each and every moment with your kids count double!
~ Joi
Dream Prophesy

“She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!”

- George Gordon, Lord Byron

“I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne’er beguiled!

And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart’s delight.

So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten-thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.”

- William Blake

By a lie, a man…annihilates his dignity as a man.
- Immanuel Kant

Politicians have worked hard over the years to bring a lot of shame and ridicule to their office. These men and women are leaders of our world, they should have nothing but reverence and respect. But far too many of them, through pride and greed, have blackened both of their profession’s eyes . There have, of course, been the likes of Abraham Lincoln, Colin Powell, Ronald Reagan, George Bush, George W. Bush, Jimmy Carter, and Condoleezza Rice. But, the opposite end of the spectrum has a much longer list of names. They’re the ones who seem hell-bent on destroying any dignity, respect or trust that’s left in politics.

I actually didn’t crawl up on my soap box today with politicians on my mind - I came with liars under my skin - this dubious group just offered a fine case study. Think about it, with one parting of the lips, Al Gore launched a million jokes. When people hear his name they don’t automatically think “Nice looking man, smart, nice dresser, intelligent, beautiful family….” they hear the name and make a joke about him inventing the internet. He spent years and years working, studying, doing his hair, getting ahead in life - but what’s his legacy? A really, really ridiculous statement. (What was the man think-ing??) Personally, I think he deserves better. I would have loved to have been there to throw a roll in his mouth before he went down that road.

A bigger example would be, of course, Mr. Clinton. OMG, did this man make a habit of lying or what. I think he’s probably a pretty nice guy, and probably smarter than most of us think. I’m sure he’d make a good dinner companion, funny and friendly - you just couldn’t believe one word he said between bites. How could he have even said “I didn’t inhale” with a straight face? Not to mention his “relations” spiel. Puh-lease.

There are a group of people amongst us who are trying to rival the politicians for laughability and shame. They’re working just as hard to bring ridicule and distrust to their “office”. They’re the people who are after my money (and yours!). They’ll lie, fabricate information, and stretch the truth till it screams.

I don’t know about you, but I hate to be lied to. Nothing makes me madder. I love people who are honest - even if they come across as absolute butts sometimes. I’ll take an honest, give-it-to-you-straight type person ANY day over a sneaky drippy little liar. They make me nervous and give me mental hives.

“He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and a third time till at length it becomes habitual.”
- Thomas Jefferson

I think President Jefferson hit it on the head. Liars tell so many lies that they cease to be able to distinguish between fiction and non-fiction. Deep down they know darn well their porsche isn’t in the shop - okay, so maybe it is, in the car dealership shop….waiting to be bought! With each subsequent lie, it gets easier and easier. They’re prolific promoters of phony perjuries. (Say that 3 times fast!)

They twist and contort truth around like taffy. Why in the world can’t they just be honest? You know what I’d love to see? Someone step up to the plate and say, “I’m just like you. I work very hard, I know what it’s like to try to raise a family and get ahead, and I think I have something that could help us both out!” I’d listen.

“Lying and stealing are next door neighbors.”
- Arabian Proverb

What’s so appealing about the “You MUST listen to me, I’m Richie Rich. (are you impressed yet) I drive a reallllly expen$ive car, my wife wears Ross-Simons jewelry, (I know you’re impressed now), our cat wears designer collars. We live the life grand. You don’t. Guess that makes me worth listening to. You can do just that. For thousands of dollars, that is. That’s right. I get paid to open my mouth. Pried shut until I hear the cha-ching.”

I do myself a greater injury in lying that I do him of whom I tell a lie.
- Michel Eyquem De Montaigne

Know the pity? So many of these cats actually have things worth hearing. The worth isn’t quite as high as they believe it to be, though. People work hard for their money. They put in their time, and often lots of it. There are things they could be, and should be spending their money on. Heck, they may even have a favorite charity they’d like to contribute to. Unfortunately, the majority of people who fall flat-faced for all the clicks and whistles don’t know any better. The whistlers are counting on that, so they whistle on. They’re tune never changes.

Just like the politicians, they’re giving their profession a bad name which could very well lead to their ruin. They’re Al Gore-ing all over themselves, and like him - I think they deserve better. Next time they meet in the tree house to get all their lies straight with one another, I think one needs to man-up, stand up and speak up.

Fortunately, just like the politicians, there are glaring exceptions. It takes a real man (or a real woman) to be honest. It takes sheer guts. Thankfully, they do exist - shining like fireflies on a summer night. They’re the ones I follow.

Make each moment count double,
~Joi (Hate hate hating herself some lying!)

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
“‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore!”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
‘Tis the wind and nothing more.”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, “other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never- nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend,” I shrieked,
upstarting-
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!”

- Edgar Allan Poe

“I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelf

The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup

Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.

I could not die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other’s gaze down,–
You could not.

And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death’s privilege?

Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus’.
That new grace

Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.

They’d judge us–how?
For you served Heaven, you know
Or sought to;
I could not,

Because you saturated sight,
And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.

And were you lost, I would be,
Though my name
Rang loudest
On the heavenly fame.

And were you saved,
And I condemned to be
Where you were not,
That self were hell to me.

So we must keep apart,
You there, I here,
With just the door ajar
That oceans are,
And prayer,
And that pale svustenance,
Despair!”

- Emily Dickinson

“Excellence is not a singular act, but a habit. You are what you repeatedly do.”
-Shaquille O’Neal

Shaq’s one of those athletes that most people either love or hate - most aren’t lukewarm on the man. In that respect, he joins the likes of UK Basketball, the Yankees, Duke, Michael Jordan, Bobby Knight, John McEnroe, Barry Bonds and Tiger Woods.

Well, for the record, I like Shaq. I also like Barry, Tiger, and MJ. I lobster love UK and am amused by Bobby Knight in spite of myself. Like ALL the rest, Shaq’s a winner.

He has played, like, 13 years in the NBA and has never been on a losing team. He led the Lakers to glory land - until they decided they didn’t like the view. THEN, he pioneered another lucky team to success. Lakers loss(es) = Heat’s win(s).

That leads me to another reason I’m a fan. He doesn’t seem to like Kobe. I’m a hater, so I can get behind that mindset.

Another reason? It may sound wife-y, but I like the way he looks at and talks about his wife. I also love the fact that he seems to so totally love his kids. All kids, in fact. He involves himself in so many charities that involve little people, and that makes him even more of a winner in my score book.

After the Heat’s win last night, Shaq only wanted to talk about
former NBA player George Mikan, who had recently passed away. He paid tribute to Mr. Mikan and then offered to pay for the funeral. Ultra nice. It’s the sort of thing that REALLY makes Shaq stand head and shoulders above those around him.

I’m not trying to say he’s perfect. As far as I know, he’s no closer to it than me. But that’s pretty much where so many of us trip up. We expect too much from people. We won’t allow ourselves to just like the good qualities of a person without wanting to fixate on the negatives. Don’t know if it makes us feel better about ourselves or what, but we sure get picky when it comes to other people.

Anyway, he done good and I wanted to pat him on the back of his knees.

Make each moment count double,
~Joi

“Eskimos eat whales a bite at a time.”

Don’t know who said it, but I get their message loud and clear. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Think about it. What happens when you overestimate the amount of burger that’ll fit in your mouth at once? Ugly face-itis.

The symbolism carries from the table to life. It’s a lesson that, to be perfectly honest, I’ve never learned or come anywhere near perfecting. But, just because I don’t get it doesn’t mean it can’t be gotten. When we overextend ourselves we aren’t experiencing life to it’s fullest OR allowing life to experience us at our best.

Granted, writers of self-help type articles or blogs are supposed to put perfection out there - at least pretend to be perfect…not flaunt their flaws like perfect fools. I can be accused of a lot of things, but I never botox my image. (Completely irrelevant and totally off-topic, but botox is ugly. Why hasn’t this occured to anyone? Makes most people just look….weird.)

I’m forever putting more on my plate at once than any one person should try to handle. It’s my approach at Golden Corral and it’s my approach in life. “I’ll take that, I’ll do this, I want that, gotta have this…” I think I’d probably extend my life by several decades if I just quit over-extending my days.

A while back, I was literally working on THREE websites at once - and, get this, one of the three was devoted to Mental Fitness! Irony’s a mother. Nearly drove myself insane working on a website promoting sanity. That’s just so me.

Normal, rational people break life down into manageable pieces. They’re the ones who put one site up at a time. They take on a task, complete the task, then move on to the next. They don’t fling themselves into the middle of 100 different things and thoughts and once. THEY don’t end up staring blankly out the window fixated on trees - as though waiting for them to dance or mate or something. At the end of the day, they look back upon what they accomplished and smile at their sane self in the mirror.

They go to a buffet and eat a “themed” meal - either seafood or Italian or steak and potatoes. They don’t just pile it on to keep from leaving any out. It’s like the MEs of the world think food has feelings and we don’t want to offend!

All right, that’s it. I’m getting on what’s left of my nerves and wearing myself out. I’m going to start working on being more disciplined - in life, of course, not at the buffet. I WILL start attacking projects one at a time. Do this. Done. Move on. I’m going to be organized, calm, disciplined and orderly.

After today, that is. I have way too much to do today.

By the way, 14. Trees in our yard. Five apple, one pear. Never danced or mated. Not while I was watching, anyway.

Make each moment count double,
~Joi
TMFC

“In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?”

- Edgar Allan Poe