I Hereby Resolve ....

to shape up in 2010!

Please bear in mind that I am writing this on 12/30 with so many black and blue marks and bruises from my recent auto wreck that I couldn't exercise if I had to.

However, back in shape I must get. Boy did I love water aerobics ... right up until that first chilly day in late September. I loved it so much that I must have forgotten how to walk. I was a great walker. Now I must be retrained. It will have to stop raining quite so vigorously. Somehow between the end of aerobics mit vasser and today many pounds and flab have found their way to my once more svelte body.

I hereby resolve to resume my walking ways, not just to work and the grocery store, but the long way, down the train tracks, past the gardens and big old Victorian houses, and on the weekends I promise to rediscover what a great venue (sports word) Washington on the Brazos can be.

I'll be back in walking mode ... until they open the pool.

"with no particular place to go"

This will sound like one of those joke stories about older folks wandering through an unplanned day!

This is most unusual, a Saturday with no plans. After an hour or so of internet time, feeding fish, sharing visits, and reading what others are up to, I decide to visit my friend Helen's stop on the All Navasota Citywide Garage Sale to pick up a jar of her exceptional orange marmalade. While doing that I remember that her fallow "saler" works at Camp Allen and daughter Kathy has inquired about an old camp songbook. She just happened to have some of the words to "Johnny Appleseed" on her Facebook page this morning. Oddly enough, Mary Jane, Cat and I had been talking about camp meal blessings on Thursday.

So I drive to Camp Allen, which has grown into a lovely facility much changed from forty years ago. And, the gift shop doesn't have any old song books. But, since I'm not far from Hempstead and could use some fresh vegetables, I drive on over there. Walking into DiIorios Farmers Market I run smack into Margaret G. (a member of the Huntington Village bunch) and we have a nice visit during which she mentions that she lives on Kickapoo Road (not far from where the subdivision is going in over which we are having serious hearings at work). After picking up a new pair of Lee pants at the Lee outlet mall and having a delicious Summer Special at Las Fuentes (my favorite Mexican restaurant) I decide to go see Kickapoo Preserve subdivision for myself. While there I take a couple of pictures to show the boss. Then a circuitous route home through much of Waller County ...very pretty.

Now home and time to bake some zucchini bread ... with walnuts ... pecan prices were through the roof.

Now five hours have passed since I went out to buy a jar of marmalade. I have new pants, fresh veggies and the impetus to bake.

Good thing I didn't have any plans today!

The saddest part of all of this

is still to be determined. I keep trying to evaluate whether the saddest part is that we still live in a country where large numbers of people are significantly prejudiced against the people who do not look like them.

Or, is it sadder still, that in the name of appearances, in the interest of appearing not to be prejudiced, they shield themselves from appearing such by attacking every other part of every person who falls into that category.

Come to the country, small town Texas, and listen carefully. Go to a larger East Texas city. If, like I, you tend to be a coward about your lack of prejudice and voice it only when you think you won't be castigated for it, people (white people) let loose with their hidebound, long-held fear, hatred, disrespect, of not only black people, but of Hispanic people and Asian people.

If you thought it went away after the 60's, or the 70's, it didn't. It went even deeper underground, because it was less politically correct. And when "they" find a spokesperson who shares their prejudices, but also prates on about socially and politically acceptable differences, hallelujah, jump on the band wagon.

The question for the future well may be ... are they passing it on to their children and grandchildren. Will "good old boys" who find themselves on the ball field with boys of another race and who make friends with them, be as inclined to hang on to the old ways? Will a person being treated in an emergency room by a nurse or doctor with a different last name or accent still feel the same?

Long ago (fifty years, at least) my Southern bred husband found himself sharing a small office on a Navy ship with an Eastern black man who happened to have a Master's Degree and was also serving out his two years of reserve naval duty. Husband was amazed, and forever changed in his racial attitudes by their friendship.

When I was a little kid and Southern Negroes were moving to the Midwest in droves, finding themselves far behind their chronological peers and struggling to fit in I thought I saw the future, the answer. We'd all get to know each other, over the long haul there would be massive intermarriage and soon no one would know who came from what original race. It sounded like a great solution. It is not the only thing about which I was completely wrong.

But, maybe someday.

Computer Illiteracy

My first encounter with the modern computer age happened in the mid 70's when I was Media Director for a good sized Houston agency. The owner was ahead of his time in computerized media buying. Whenever Arbitron completed a measurement of the audience we would receive huge tapes ... bigger than an LP album which I took to the Rice University main-frame (about a football field sized basement full of huge computing devices). I would hand it through to a Rice fellow who then installed it on the Rice computer and head back to my office on the West Loop. Some time later my little computer would access it and do miraculous computating to determine the most efficient radio and television schedules for our clients. I was ahead of the computer curve.

At radio stations where I managed sales staffs, at the dealership where not only the dealer but his bright sons as well, knew everything about computers, my education expanded. I can remember envelope printing when not only did you have to feed them in a very specific way, but also stand just so and breathe quietly. I learned Symphony, Lotus, Word Perfect, Mediatron, and a zillion other brands of software. I still learn new software.

But, here's where our computer curve differs from our previous office experiences. When we ladies learned typing, whether at Wauwatosa Senior High School, Lamar High School, or Buddy's Business Academy, we all learned to type the very same way, with the very same "asdfjkl;" system. We learned where to put our fingers on the identical keyboards, how to capitalize and how to advance the page.

Computers? We all learned differently. Maybe you started at home with a Commodore, or at school with an Apple, or at a cash register that was a computer. Maybe you took a class, or a lot of classes. I took a Leisure Learning class to learn "Spreadsheets" or some such.

Point being, no two of us learned to use a computer exactly the same way. All of our experiences are different and so are most of our shortcuts, most of what comes automatically when we sit down to a keyboard.

And then, you go to work for or with someone whose entire computing experiences are based on another planet entirely. They want you to do it their way. Never mind that your itinerary takes you to an identical result. They want you to do it their way. Talk about "old dogs and new tricks" ... one person's "literacy" is another's foreign language.

There are many things worse than heartbreak....

unless you are the one with the broken heart!

I do not ever wish to appear unsympathetic especially not when I have so many friends with serious health issues for whom I pray every day.

But, if you have your health and your heart is broken, it is difficult to be upbeat and positive about the direction of life.

One thing I know for sure, the best medicine is to stay too damn busy to think about who is missing in the everyday. If someone else is calling, or texting or e-mailing, its easier to overlook that he isn't. Even better is live conversation, you know, the old fashioned kind where you're sitting across from a friend and exchanging ideas, or recipes, or punch lines.

So far I have signed up for a new Bible study at church, joined a photography club (even though they are very silly and I'm not much of a photographer), visited friends, read several good books, especially the most recent Tess Gerritson. I regularly spend my Friday nights having good food with good buddies in Millican. All my girls, daughters, in-laws and grand, have kept talking to me even if they're sick of hearing my "sad story."

I have gotten my flu shot, which may be what gave me a first time ever case of hives. I found out that the Navasota Hospital has a great emergency room with new facilities and very kind nurse and doctor. I don't love the emotional roller coaster resulting from the steriod shot (only I would get weepy instead of rage!) but I am very glad to itch no more.

Maybe proof reading this will make me aware of how very fortunate I really am. Maybe I was right all those years when I made no effort at all to have any "relationship" with any man.

And, maybe he will call ....

Aging Gracefully

Among the many things I am doing this year, aging gracefully is certainly not one.

I have long observed that as people age ... we're talking over 65 here ... people tend to develop personality directions. Some, who have been impatient and hard charging actually appear to mellow and begin to enjoy a slower pace, a kinder slant. Others, who once prided themselves on their ability to get along, to cope, to deal with the slings and arrows, suddenly find that their patience has ebbed, their coping skills evaporated and their view of life on the planet grown dimmer.

I fit into the second category. And, I'm not the only one who has noticed it. Some of my nearest and dearest are finding it difficult to contend with.

Some of the causes include failing memory skills ("where have I put those durn keys this time");
or maybe the economic situation that requires a full time job (working for a man even older than I), and probably most notable, the realization that life is winding down, it has not been particular successful or fulfilling and the chance of improving the track record looks mighty slim. These are not mellowing ingredients.

Most of all, I find myself behaving in exactly the way my mother did (altho' she was much older when it became noticeable) and getting the same results in my childrens' behavior that I exhibited.

Further, when you start going to an increased number of funerals, or reading about old friends in various obituaries, the mortality of it all does impress. Maybe that's what makes me most impatient. I need to read more, write more, see more friends, keep track of grandchildrens' accomplishments, and remember to thank God for the ability to do it all.

Another day with temperatures over 100 degrees?

Great! That means that when my fingers can no longer type from sitting in such a cold office I can dash outside and try to get them working again.

After more than fifty years in Texas I cannot become accustomed to being colder in the summer than I am in the winter. One of the good reasons for locating from friendly Wisconsin to Texas was to get away from freezing cold winter weather. And, still, I have to remember to take a sweater to shop at the grocery store in July because it is so cold. Now I have the great good fortune to work in an office where the man with the AC power thinks anything above 71 is too darn hot.

I am a moderate person. I have the beginnings of unpleasant arthritis in hands and wrists. Nothing makes them hurt more than cold blowing air. Maybe that's why I am having such a hard time dealing with this cold summer weather! It is my opinion that being "hot" is quite unpleasant for many people, often people of some size. However, being cold is, for me, painful. Why doesn't painful trump unpleasant?

Target Shooting for Widowers

I think I have the makings of an espionage expose'.

Here's the scoop. Because there is an abundance of elderly women looking for male companionship there is also an exclusive male club designed to make use of the over-population.

My attempts to access the inner workings of the organization have been so far unsatisfactory but I am making progress. There probably is no hierarchy, by-laws or meetings called to order. I think it operates more casually, at ballfields, Optimist lunches, bowling lanes and beer gardens. There are no secret handshakes and no "red hats" to warn you in advance when you are being stalked by a member.

Best case scenario goes something like this: a widower, a year or more removed from his original grief decides that while he probably is not ready for a "real relationship" it would be a good idea to do a little target practice.

As an aside, it is sometimes bandied about that the men who were happily married are those most likely to get down to the business of finding a new wife, perhaps with little or no target practice. On the other hand, if said widower has remanufactured a busy life without said wife, target practice is the logical next step.

Another aside, since so many pitiful older lonely women are out there, this is not a very sophisticated hunt.

If said widower has been able to milk the "bereaved lonely widower" status for sometime resulting in friends and neighbors who regularly include him in their social events and offer support for home and travel plans, it makes the idea of target practice even more appealing.

So, this hunting adventure starts with a little "fishing trip". Just locate a likely mark and drop a little bait; maybe "would you like to see a movie" which means, not in my neighborhood and where it will be so dark no one will recognize me. Or if the mark has some usable skill, like tailoring, or computer geeking, it is possible to approach for that skill while keeping the greater goal unmentioned. And, just like fishing, if you bait the hook attractively and keep it moving, you can reel in your first "target."

In case you are wondering ... I am not bitter. I am not coping especially well with having gleaned this information and I am not giving up.

On the road through Florida, Georgia & SC

Before I forget which meal we had where, let me tell you about our trip to visit Harris in Hinesville, GA, at Fort Stewart.

On Thursday we flew from San Antonio, via Nashville, to Jacksonville, FL. (referred to as JAX) where we stayed the night and left early

On Friday to drive to Ft. Stewart. It was not a direct drive. We drove over to the ocean and up the coast to a lovely beach at a state park where we were the only visitors. The scenery was breathtaking and photographable, so we took some pictures and stuck our feet in the Atlantic. Laura did not remember being in the Atlantic in Delaware some 40+ years ago, so thought it was a first. We also looked at Amelia Island, not much to see, but the bottled water was a bargain.
Next stop, after missing the Georgia welcome station ... ask me about the e-mail that will address the whys of that one.

Found we were only a few miles from St. Simons Island, GA., so went right over. What a delightful place. First we found the crab cakes at Barbara Jeans cool restaurant to be worthy of the fame they have acquired. Then there is the Lighthouse and attendant facilities, park, views of water, birds and boats, and a fair number of charming shops. We'll go there again sometime.

Then we headed on up to Ft. Stewart, a large and impressive US Army base. It is, in fact, the largest in area of any US base in the eastern half of the US. The particular soldier we were looking for, who had been up all night on guard, had dozed off with his phone in the non-ring capacity, so we opted to head for Savannah and our hotel room. Checked in and said soldier woke up and headed to town for our beginning tour of Savannah. We had heard about the "squares" and SCAD, and had recommendations for several restaurants. Nothing had prepared us for the beauty of the town. The largest historic district in the US and it was preserved for lots of very good reasons. We truly enjoyed every minute spent visiting the more than 20 squares and their surroundings. Harris was especially pleased to learn about Savannah. The biggest thrill was undoubtedly going inside the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, easily one of the most beautiful churches in the US.

Supper on Friday was at the Pirate's House ... very old, very kitschy. Food was good as was the service. Our server, Elijah, grew up in Southeast San Antonio, not far from Wooldridges! We continued touring until every last bit of sunlight was gone from the squares and the drive along the river. A quick dessert and goodnight.

On Saturday Harris met us for a few more square moments and then we headed to Tybee Island, the nearest beach for Savannahians. Bad news, they were all there and there was only parking for a third of them. We on the big Texas coast are very spoiled in the parking department. There was nowhere to park ... an hour or more of driving around in circles might have resulted in one, but we (Laura and I) gave up and headed off the island. On the way we spotted the signs for "The Crab Shack" ... highly recommended, so we went there. It was wonderful. Great food, shrimp, crab and crab stew, and more atmosphere than can be described. It was funny old shacky, with lots of space, excellent service and top notch seafood. Laura says we alternated every day between shrimp and crabmeat. This was my turn for shrimp, but I had crab stew too. Oh, and key lime pie! Live alligators, tons of people, waterfront (bay) views. Good place to go. Then we went to Fort Pulaski. A pre Civil War fort of some considerable fame well preserved by the US Park Service. An excellent volunteer provided not only a wealth of information but he and four other vols demonstrated firing of muskets and two cannons. From the top of the fort you could see not only the Tybee Island lighthouse but another less known one. Hundreds more pictures!

A brief respite followed by another food adventure, also highly recommended, at Love's on the Ogeechee River, about halfway between Savannah and Ft. Stewart. My gosh, it was great too. I had Scored Flounder with Apricot preserves, preceded by a Amaretto Sour. Those other two ate shrimp. Scenery was lovely and service charming. Another worthy rec. Then we went to the mall !! You know who needed to go to "Build a You Know What". So she did.

Sunday morning we treated ourselves to breakfast on the river at "Huey's". Great view, great coffee and good food. Harris slept in at home. Then we drove to South Carolina, just to say we had, stopping at the SC Visitor Center and the Georgia Visitor Center, checked out of the room and went to see Harris' digs at Ft. Stewart. The military has come a long way in housing since I was a Navy wife in the dark ages. Big attractive barracks with individual sleeping rooms and shared kitchen and bath. Not spacious nor gracious, but certainly adequate. We bought some goodies at the PX and told our soldier goodby. He had duty on Sunday night.

So, we drove to JAX, checked in, went to the beach, swam and found shells, dried off and drove down the coast to St. Augustine for supper. That's another interesting little burg. Wildly Spanish in extreme architecture. Very hard to find parking and somewhat tourist trappy. But we managed to find another good spot for food! A1A, fusion grille featuring many specialties. Ours were delicious, Laura had lime shrimp over pasta and I had some shrimp, crab and tuna! Our fusion dessert was Fried Custard !!! It was excellent, came with Sweet Rum Sauce.

Early, 7 am, flight back through Nashville and home to San Antonio before lunch time on Monday and I drove home to Navasota before 3.

What an adventure. Came away with a whole new appreciate for the Southeast Coast and its beauty and food!

Water Lily at Martha's

Today I attended a fun seminar on photographing wildlife, primarily birds and flowers. The presenter was easy to listen to, down to earth, not a "pro" and had some great tips and stories. Additionally, she has a B&B not far from Navasota and has said come over anytime. I look forward to taking Kathy there to learn some of her ideas, and maybe get fired up about entering a contest. After the seminar I went out to Martha's lily ponds and took some pictures. I think this one is the best.

The "IN" Crowd

Three things that really bug me are INane, INept, and INebriated.
I am inept. I abhor inane and I do not handle the Inebriated well at all.

I wondered the other day about the entertainment, tv, comics, et al, that I do not find funny or clever. Finally Laura pointed it out to me: they feature the inane.
New sitcoms that people rave about and just don't get: The Office, New Adventures of Old Christine, Gary Unmarried ... all inane. Conan O'Brien and Jimmy Kimmel ... also inane. The is nothing clever about inane. Mutually exclusive traits.

On the other hand, inept is me. Multitasking is not for the inept. My daughters walk away when it is time for me to find my car keys somewhere in my purse, or my pockets or my house. My dwelling requires that I park my car, unload bags, walk to the locked downstairs door and put some, or every, thing down to fit the tricky key into the equally tricky keyhole, turn it and pull the door open without knocking over any of the bags I have put down in order to begin. Then pick it all up and truck up a high flight of stairs, down a hall, around a corner to my own door and repeat the process, often in the gloomy underlitness of the hall. No wonder I'm muttering inept words by the time the bags get carried to the counter! Those same keys are always dropped from my fingers at least once a day. I am inept. I do not sew, nor will I ever. I am no ept.

Then there is inebriated. Many of my good friends love to drink stuff; beer, margaritas, every verietal wine from every continent, as a regular part of the day, night or social occasion. Frankly, as I have gotten older, fewer and fewer of them do it to extreme. Lord knows, that used to be the norm. I am always reminded of a funny acquaintance of mine who was fairly intelligent but really drank a lot and often. It appeared to be an "ism". One day she was hounding me to "just have one drink, Miss Sally." I replied, "Oh, no thanks, I'm already dumb enough." She said, "Oh Miss Sally, you're not dumb at all." Get my point? The worst part about the inebriated is that they think they're cool and fun and smart and funny. And they're just drunk. Now, a table full of sober people may not be much fun, and some of them certainly are not. However, I'll stick to my belief that everyone ought to be able to have two alcoholic beverages every day and no one should be allowed any more than that!

Its turning into a rant !!!

There are certain things I should not be allowed to do:
1. Send rants by e-mail without first putting them in "draft" mode and waiting at least three days for the mood to fade.
2. Wander outside with chip firmly planted on shoulder.
3. Criticize my successful friends. Not their fault.
4. Blame others for my poor choices.
5. Forget to thank my family for putting up with me ... apparently I am not mellowing with age ... so much for the cheese comparisons.

The plain friend.

I've always had a theory, or noticed, or bitterly thought, that the very good looking and proud of it often have friends or acquaintances who don't measure up in the looks department. You know, gorgeous stacked pretty girl with skinny plain friend. Or, I suppose, hunky chunky dude accompanied by skinny nerd. Maybe it even works with the non-physical folks. A smart and successful business person who is tagged along with by a far less "made it" old pal. A professor who spends time with a "drop out" friend.

Now I think I am one of those also-rans.

I belong to a group of successful accomplished women ... they meet for lunch or something every month that one of us has a birthday. Most often, because of distance and financial restraints, I don't participate. I even try to get out of "membership" on similar grounds. But they want me to stay.

I think I know why!

Fairy Tales Do Not Come True

Only the names have been changed to protect everybody.

I had been a "woman alone" for more than twenty years, not a single date, romance, significant anything, and I was okay with it.

But, I did have a weak moment where I said "God, would it be possible to just have one last try at romance, sex, the pretty pictures?"

Then, I went to a series of sort-of church related events, weddings, funerals, etc., and at each I encountered an old friend, recently widowed, always charming. After one such encounter I actually had a dream about him. It should be noted, I almost never have a dream peopled with anyone I know, or have known. So, I was intriqued.

This is where I got stupid, or imaginative, or really stupid. I wrote him a note. I said "its always a treat to visit with you, so if you're ever in my small town, do drop in."

And I forgot about it. Until, one day my phone rang. It was he. He was asking for the local phone number of mutual friends. In the conversation he brought up some other mutual friends in the neighborhood and suggested that sometime we might go have dinner with them.

A week or so later there was a message on my phone. Him again, asking if I'd like to go to dinner on Friday night. I screamed bloody murder for several minutes. I called him back, at a college basketball game, and yelled "heck, yes". And so he picked me up in a downpour on Friday night and we went out for Mexican food. He even called me from the highway after dropping me off.

After that he invited me to meet him halfway (joke, there) for dinner and a movie. We met. It was an ill-advised movie choice, "The Bucket List" about dying. After the movie we sat in his truck and talked about "us" and how there wouldn't be an "us". He was not at all ready for a relationship, didn't expect to ever be. Was in no way prepared to share his life with anyone. Certainly didn't want his family to think he was "seeing someone" or any such foolishness as that.

I promptly explained to him that I was not about to sign on to any such deal. After all, I had my standards! We parted. Within about ten minutes I called him back to say I'd give the "no relationship" deal a try. What did I have to lose? Probably should be noted that I had always suspected that he hung the moon.

Here it is a year and a half later. Guess what? I was right the first time. I couldn't do it his way. Dreams are for people who are asleep. Fairy tales are just that.

My question to me is: can I go back to life all alone? Guess so.

Just because its June, June, June

So, now it is summertime in Texas, but still in the high sixties in the morning. So a pleasant walk to work.

Work, that's where the noise monsters are; radios, fans, squeaking chairs and crashes and crunches. I wonder why I am such a fan of quiet. Could it be all those years of working at radio stations where they played loudly in every room in the building? Or am I just becoming curmudgeonly?

Glasses. Went to Dr. Amy to see if it was time for having the other lens replaced. She said to try glasses for at least a year. On the way from my house to the optician in College Station I lost the prescription! Another vote for technology, the doctor's office faxed the prescription to the optician... get rid of the ineffective middleperson. Get two new pairs of glasses tomorrow. For reasons I don't understand two pair now cost the same as one.

Travel Plans. On Thursday I am going to Houston to have dinner with "the old radio ladies" really called Les Femmes (who knows why). Then next Thursday we are going to Savannah !!
That will improve my attitude.

May 2009

A log for this particular month ... started late... must include family, friends and travels.

On May 9th, my kind last husband, Paul, and I had a wonderful time at old friend, Dave Ward's Seventieth birthday party. His lovely wife Laura always plans spectacular events to celebrate Dave's milestones and this one was no exception. Beginning with hors d'ouvres outdoors near the gazebo at Brenner's Steak House we were thrilled to find old and famous friend, Steve Tyrell, in from California. That was a great reunion. We joined KNUZ buddies Arch and Jan Yancy visiting and snacking and then sitting down to a splendid table of delicous choices, great conversation, wonderful entertainment and many kind words about the honoree. There are times that a trip into the "big city" is just too much fun. I'm so glad I was included.

My wonderful Turkish cooking classes at the Turkvei Center in Bryan have finished for the season. Can't wait to get back in the fall to learn, and eat, some more. What a great cuisine to find. I will treasure the recipes, the fellow students and my two great teachers, Hulya and Aishagul and all those sumptious lunches. I'm so glad to have found Phoenica supermarket in Houston to keep the special foods on hand ... especially Bulgarian Feta Cheese!

Another Houston trip (did I say I don't go to town very often?) to celebrate dear friend Susan Buddeke's retirement after more than thirty (30 !!!) years at KTRK-TV. I cannot even imagine working at the same place for that long. It is so wonderful that she gets to quit while young enough to enjoy her family (precious pair of grandkids) , her lovely home and travel. And, a fellow who is taking her to Boston (?) to see George Strait. And she deserves every happy minute that she gets.

Then we headed off in another direction. I picked up Laura in New Braunfels (well, Schertz, actually) and we drove to San Angelo to see the brilliant Amanda Razo (significant other to grandson Clayton) receive her RN nursing pin at a gracious ceremony on Friday night and then her Associates Degree on Saturday from a fine small university, San Angelo State. I was surprised to find that it is a member of the Texas Tech University system. Lovely place. She has two fine job offers and with the completion of a few more hours will also have a Bachelor's Degree. Clayton, who also needs very few more hours has accepted a position of horse trainer, wildlife manager at a large ranch near Hondo, TX. So they go from struggling college students to very gainfully employed. That's a great success story for this year. While in San Angelo we met up with dear Ascencion church friends George and Mary Jane Butler who now cal SA home. Boy did we talk!

Not much else is planned for May. Its time to save some money and get ready for June's adventures.

How to tell a Blog from a Rant

When I rant, and I do rant, it is about the things over which I have no control. Not simple things like the weather and the traffic, big stuff, people who just won't do what I want them to. It may be as simple as a slow driver in the fast lane on State Highway 6. Whatever happened to slower cars keep right?

Sometimes it is about the people for whom I care, who don't see me as I want them to.

Often it is about my own shortcomings; limited organizational skills, clumsiness, incredible lack of patience with myself or others.

Sometimes I rant right at God. I figure why mess with any middlemen; priests, psychologists, family or friends? It is true that God is Good, he listens to them all and, frankly, it doesn't seem that I am being particularly punished for them. In fact, sometimes he just calms me down.

But, this new mode of expression is not for ranting. It is for logging. Right? WeBLOGGING?

Let's see if I can do that.

In the beginning

An article entitled "Improve Your Mood in 5 Minutes" listed eighteen ways to improve your mood. Number one on the list said, "Start a Blog."

In a last ditch effort to improve my mood I am starting a Blog.

It will not be deep, nor wide, nor thrilling, it will just be writing.

And, since it is a "virgin" blog it probably will need some training.