Reflections By Ronnie

5th Grade Mid-Year Update

2014-12-21T09:27:00.000-08:00

It's the end of our first semester in online school and we finished early. We will be able to enjoy almost a month off for winter break. We are excited about getting ready for Christmas; making cookies and ornaments, watching our favorite holiday movies, and just relaxing at home for a while.

So how did the semester go? If her grade book is any indication, it was a screaming success. She finished the semester with straights A's across the board and finished math with an A+. This is a big deal. Last year in her brick-and-mortar school, she started the year scoring 'advanced' in math. By the end of the year, she was on the low end of average. One of my fears with being her learning coach, is that my mathematical limitations would hold her back. I'm so glad to learn that is not the case!

Lil does have a teacher with Connections Academy and she is wonderful. Mrs. Brown is always available for questions or assistance. We've met with her at many school functions and field trips and she is a warm person and so much fun. Mrs. Brown actually approached us to assist another family that is struggling. It was wonderful to hear from the teacher that we are “a great family and a great example of how online public school should work”.

Lillian has met some good friends through her online school and it's nice to see her finding kids that she has so much in common with. She attended a birthday party for her good friend Kylie and they enjoyed the field trips together.

The new semester starts in mid-January and we’re both looking forward to it. But for now I’ll sit here in my robe and slippers and enjoy my coffee and let Lil sleep in and rest. We’ve both earned it.

Patience, Grasshopper

2014-08-26T19:06:00.001-07:00

“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

We are well into the second week of online school and now I can tell you all about the Great Council of the Iroquois, mitochondria, and how to calculate mentally using compatible numbers. If I work hard I can pass the fifth grade again along with Lil.

The first week was long as we were getting used to the computer program. But we learned how to navigate the system and complete our lessons. We also learned early on that it is best to start the day with math when our brains are fresh and we're less likely to lose patience with numbers and each other.

Lillian is sitting on top with an A overall and in her individual subjects. I am impressed and amazed that she is so engaged in this new method of learning. So far she has made the transition like a champ. I see her skills climbing in ways they didn't in a traditional classroom.

She has developed an affinity for Social Studies and government. She wants to spend the most time on this subject and I am willing to oblige. Her fascination with history gives her a eyes a spark that doesn't happen with other subjects. Maybe she'll be headed for a future in public service and government.

The only thing I find frustrating in this venture so far, is that there isn't enough time to go as deeply into these lessons as we'd like. I want to read the whole page in the textbook. Not just skim it for the purpose of the lesson. I've tried teaching it the way we prefer, but then our school day goes longer and we will run out of the energy and attention span needed to focus on lessons later in the day.

Like anything else I suppose it will be a matter of finding a happy balance. I know that once we unlock the right combination of time, material and stamina, there will be no limits to her learning. But for now I must be patient.

It is only the second week after all.

Back to School ... At Home

2014-08-11T15:13:00.000-07:00

School starts next week and Lil and I are looking forward to it with a whole new level of anticipation. We have enrolled in Colorado Connections Academy, a virtual public school. This means that she'll be learning with the same curriculum, but in the comfort of our own home. This is a new experience for our family and we're determined to make it a success.

I will be her 'learning coach'. I will keep her on track and facilitate all her daily classes and assignments. She will still have a public school teacher that provides the lessons and support by phone, live lesson, and email. There are field trips and parties for social interaction and she'll still be in karate five nights a week. The school has provided Lillian with a computer, the text books, and some pretty amazing supplies.

This week we are focusing on getting into a morning routine.

I walk the dogs from 6:00-6:30
We do our yoga workout for 'gym' from 6:30-7:00
Breakfast is from 7:00-7:30
Chores are from 7:30-7:45
Getting showered, dressed,and ready 7:45-8:00
We start classes at 8:00

I'm sure there will be snags and the schedule will ultimately need some adjusting, but routine is important to stay on track. The flexibility is fantastic. It affords us the opportunity to have class at the library, outside when it's nice, or at the park. We can also have it on the couch in our pajamas if we choose.

I anticipate challenges and look forward to solving them with the great support team at CoCA, but knowing that Lillian is learning in a safe environment where she can advance at her own pace is reassuring.

I will be sharing our experience on this blog to let everyone know how we're coming along. Wish us luck!

The Great American Cop-out

2013-10-08T09:52:00.000-07:00

Over the past week I have watched social media blow up over the government shutdown. Everyone is upset and rightfully so. But what bothers me more than anything is the ignorance of the general public on how government is supposed to function.

Successfully passing a high school civics class is required to receive a high school diploma. Now I don't claim to remember everything I learned in high school, but I do remember my Social studies teacher engaging us in many discussions about our government.

Some key facts about the way our nation was set up.

1. There are three branches of government to ensure a checks and balances system. This means that no one person can rule all and make our country a dictatorship. Each branch is equal.

Here are the three branches of government:

a) Legislative - The United States Congress - These are elected by the people to represent them in Washington. The people elect those that best represent the issues that are most important to them. They write legislation and vote on potential laws. There are two divisions of the legislative branch. The House of Representatives and the Senate.

b) Executive - This is the President of the United States - Also an elected civil servant, among other tasks, he/she holds the power to sign bills into law, he/she also holds the power to veto or 'cancel' bills at his/her discretion. A veto can be overridden if the house and senate both pass an override.

c) Judicial - This is the United States Supreme Court - This branch is comprised of judges that were appointed to the bench by the President of the United States and vetted by congress. These officials are chosen by their ability to interpret the United States Constitution and render judgments fairly. The court hears and decides cases of significant value to the nation. There is no higher judgment in the land.

2. A bill must be passed by both the Legislative and Executive branches to become a law. If the constitutionality is questioned in court, the law may make it up the judicial chain and be heard before the United States Supreme Court who will render a judgment on whether a law has merit and will stand.

3. Our country was set up by our founding fathers as a "government of the people, by the people, and for the people". This gives the power to the citizens of the United States to hire elected officials to run the country the way we see fit. If we don't like how we are being represented in Congress, we can remove those non-performing representatives by electing someone else to better represent us.

4. The majority rules. - This is why we have elections. The candidate with the most votes wins the election.

5. The United States Congress is responsible for passing a budget to fund the country. If there is no budget, the people that are employed by the government are out of work or work without pay. This includes the United States Military, unless provisions are passed otherwise, as we've seen President Obama do.

Why does all this matter? Our federal government has been shutdown by congress for the past week. The republican-led congress has issued an ultimatum to the president to either de-fund or dismantle the Affordable Care Act, (which is also referred to as Obamacare by the way. It is the same thing for those of you who don't know or appear on Jimmy Kimmel) or they will not pass a budget and close the government. They have also threatened not to raise the debt ceiling. This would cause United States to default on it’s debts, damaging our economy that is still recovering.

This means that children are without nutritional assistance and school. Veterans are without the care they need and deserve. Death benefits to families of soldiers killed in action have stopped. American families are left without a paycheck to pay their rent or bills. Cancer research, stopped. And yes, Jan Brewer, national parks are closed. All because of a political hissy-fit by the Republican party of cheap tricks, scare tactics, and bad theatrics.

The Affordable Care Act IS LAW. It was passed by all three branches of government. (see #1 above)

It is not up for discussion, compromise, or gutting by people who don't like it. This isn't how our system is designed to work. If a party does not agree with a law, they can campaign and win an election. By reelecting President Barrack Obama to the office of President of the United States, the people of this land confirmed their approval of this legislation.

Now here's what I find hard to digest. The people that scream loudest and longest about “the evil that is Obamacare” are usually the people that don't know diddly about the legislative framework of our constitution. You don't have to be a lawyer. You don't have to hold a degree. You just have to educate yourself. If you don't, you are at the mercy of the crazy, greedy, and unethical asshats that hold office.

I have no patience for people who claim, "I'm not a political person", "I don't follow politics", "They're all the same", "It makes no difference anyway". Ironically, these people are the first to bitch about things that don't go their way.

For the love of our nation, read the constitution. Read a civics book. Learn the truth about the clowns that YOU have elected to congress, so the next time you step into that voting booth you can make an educated decision.

As a citizen of the United States, it is not only your right, but also your responsibility.

Why Sheena Needs to Get Up Earlier

2013-08-16T22:48:00.000-07:00

Friday morning started like any other. The alarm goes off, we press snooze. Nine minutes pass. The alarm goes off. We press snooze. Nine more minutes pass. I got up and convinced Sheena that she really needs to get ready for work. I lurched toward the kitchen to fetch the anti-zombie juice, more frequently referred to as coffee.

In an attempt to live a healthier lifestyle, Sheena has been eating breakfast. After dressing, she tried to prepare oatmeal with honey in our galley kitchen while Lillian emptied the dishwasher. This should not be a difficult task.

1.       Pour oatmeal in bowl.
2.       Drizzle honey over oatmeal.
3.       Pour milk.

This morning it went more like this.

1.       Pour oatmeal in bowl.
2.       Reach for the honey and drop it out of the cabinet onto the edge of said bowl.
3.       Wonder what the fuck happened to cause the oatmeal explosion.

I heard the “explosion” and came around the corner to see what happened. I saw the oatmeal with honey in places I never knew it could be; on the upper cabinets, on the side of the refrigerator, on Lillian, on the dog, and most amusing, on the front of Sheena’s pants.

Me: “What happened?”

Grumpy Gus: “I don’t know! Get me the broom or something!”

I know Sheena’s not a morning person and she’s clearly not awake, so I buttoned my lip and went to fetch the broom from the porch. Grumbling under my breath at her abrasiveness, I grabbed the broom and muttered to myself, “It’s ‘Get me the broom, please’.” Clearly I was not awake either, because on my way back into the house I missed the cement step and down I went like London Bridge.

Sweet Lil was the first to show concern. Perhaps it was because, as she said, “I saw your legs and butt fly up in the air and you crashed down.” She came running to see if I was okay, followed by a now jolted-awake Sheena.

Oh, it’s funny now. Even with a bruised and swollen rug-burned elbow, a scraped calf and shin, and back spasms.

But really. Sheena needs to get up earlier.

The Iron Curtain Has Returned, and is Covered in Rainbow Blood

2013-08-03T23:26:00.000-07:00

Would you be surprised to know that readers of my blog in Russia are second only to readers here in the United States? At least they were until Russia’s government adopted a federal bill banning the distribution of "propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations”. Russia has yet to clarify what constitutes ‘propaganda’, but apparently my blog falls into that category.

Yes. My humble little blog has gone dark to the Russian people. I guess they are afraid that Russian youths will read my words and instantly convert to a life of persecution by society, and prosecution by the government. Wow. I never knew that my words could be so powerful.

First, I have only written one post regarding LGBT issues. Second, this was a post regarding LGBT rights here in the United States. There are many things left to achieve in the United States for gays and lesbians. But I can’t imagine living in a place where violence against homosexuals is not only condoned, but encouraged.

I am sickened and saddened by the governmental discrimination, not to mention the violence that is happening to my LGBT brothers and sisters in Russia.

If I could speak to you I would tell you that you that the rest of the world has not forgotten you. I wish you could read this. I wish I could do more.

В знак солидарности с моими российскими братьями и сестрами

2013-06-25T20:31:00.001-07:00

From Stonewall to DOMA

The first time I marched in a Gay Pride parade I was a baby, all of about 19 years old. I felt strong, brave, and my pride was bursting as I walked the parade route, winding down Denver’s East Colfax holding a rainbow flag that streamed from a pole bigger than I was. I shouted and chanted alongside my GLBT brothers and sisters. “We’re here! We’re QUEER! GET USED TO IT!” The crowd was large and the sweltering sun beat down on us.

The year was 1991 and our local gay community defeated a Denver ballot initiative to exclude gays and lesbians from city anti-discrimination ordinances. However, our success was shoved to the wayside with the passage of Amendment 2 the following election year, making it legal in the state of Colorado to discriminate against homosexuals.

It felt like worms in the pit of my stomach. My young mind couldn't understand how people could be so mean to people they don’t even know. I've carried this disappointment for the last twenty-one years. It doesn't hurt any less that I’m older. I've just gotten used to it.

Conservatives have run their campaigns based on defeating the “gay agenda”. The gay agenda. Ha. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. The so called “gay agenda” is this: Equality and the pursuit of happiness. Isn't that what our constitution guarantees?

My wife and I pay our taxes every year. But because of the Defense of Marriage Act, we don’t get the same benefits that a heterosexual couple would receive. We don’t get to file our taxes jointly; our health insurance isn't charged the way a straight couple is charged. That isn't even the half of it. Same-sex military couples can now legally fight and die for our country but can’t even collect survivor benefits. Where is the support for our troops that conservatives claim to love? Where is the love in any of this?

I am proud to call the GLBT community my family. We have come a long, long way since that night at the Stonewall Inn in 1969, where those brave men, women, and drag queens said, NO MORE. They linked arms singing and formed a kick line in the street, and for this they were met with police batons that were cracked against their skulls. Think about that for a moment. They were beaten bloody for standing up for themselves and their own human dignity.

We will continue to fight for equality.

On this, the eve of the Supreme Court ruling on the constitutionality of DOMA and Proposition 8, I have the same awful worms in the pit of my stomach. I still want to believe that justice prevails in our great country, but honestly, I've just gotten used to the disappointment.

"Talking about music is like dancing about architecture."

2012-12-15T12:19:00.001-08:00

“Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” No one seems to know the origins of this wise quote about love and music, but it doesn't make it any less true. Angelina Jolie’s character Joan said it best in the movie Playing By Heart, “He may be right, but it ain't gonna stop me from trying.”

I've tried rather unsuccessfully to write about love and music, and my love for music. I've also tried to write about my love for the music of Pink Martini, a mini orchestra from Portland. This last Wednesday, Sheena and I adored their performance with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra from the 5^th row at Boettcher Concert Hall.

The band takes the stage to roaring applause, picking up their instruments. Thomas sits at the piano. China and Timothy take their microphones. The music begins and my soul is lifted from my body, transformed into a weightless cloud of bliss. This is what I imagine heaven must be.

I believe everyone has a musical soul mate, an artist that gets you high just with their own unique sound. That’s what Pink Martini means to me; the perfect combination of vocals, horns, strings, piano, percussion, guitar, and bass.

What band, artist, or composer does that for you?

2012-06-08T16:06:00.000-07:00

My Two Favorite Words: Book Sale

This weekend is the annual Denver Public Library Gigantic Used Book sale. I decided to brave the heat, the piles of books, and the ant hill of people to find some cheap reads. It is an understatement to say… I’m so glad that I did! Lillian and I stumbled away with as many as we could carry, and we only spent $19!

Right before leaving, I decided to check one last table of hard covers, to see if there was something that I just couldn’t live without. I rested my box on some books and scanned the titles. Nestled in the middle, with only the spine exposed, was a book that made me scream. Yes. I screamed! Everyone stopped browsing and turned to see the crazy-ass woman screaming in the corner.

This book has eluded me for SIX YEARS. It’s not that it’s a rare book or anything like that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember the title or author. I tried Google searches, talked to librarians, and scoured shelves to no avail. I didn’t think I would ever find this book again. Here it was, amidst stacks of random titles. It was the first book I picked up.

I read this book when I was at a crossroads in my life. I immediately related to David, a reclusive poet facing the loss of his girlfriend and causing the loss of his parrot by throwing him out the window to face the wild. Feeling guilty, he learns all he can about conures and goes out into the world to find the feathered friend that he abandoned. If you ever read this book, don’t read too quickly. This book is one to be leisurely enjoyed. Ride along with David on a cargo ship to the mangrove swamps of South America. There you will fall in love with the Aratinga erythrogenys, best known as the cherry headed conure.

If you live in the Denver metropolitan area, go to the book sale and browse awhile. It’s on through Sunday at the Denver Central branch on Broadway. Find a book to savor in the shade with a cold glass of lemonade. Hell, at these prices you can store up for winter reading while you’re at it! I will be going back tomorrow. But this time I will park closer and bring a bigger vehicle!

Global Thanks for 2,000 Views

2012-03-07T14:39:00.000-08:00

After I post this, my humble little blog will hit 2,000 views. I am proud of that. What I find particularly cool, is that I have readers all over the world. This week alone I have been read in France and many times in Russia, as well as the United States. I have been read in India, Croatia, Brazil, Australia, the Netherlands, Germany, China, the Philippines (Hi Amy!), and many more.

This gives me such a warm feeling of a global community. I invite those of you in other nations to PLEASE leave a comment on my blog. I’d love to hear from you about life in your corner of the globe.

Going forward, I’d like to give Reflections by Ronnie a more focused approach. In the past I’ve written about random musings on my day to day life. I will continue to do that, but in each new post I will be covering one simple pleasure of life on this big blue marble. We are all so busy working, caring for our families, dealing with stresses that it’s sometimes very difficult to enjoy simple things.

This blog will be just that, my reflections on simple things. I hope it’s as fun to read as it is to write.

Thanks for visiting my blog in the past, the present, and the future.

Ronnie

iPanic

2012-02-01T18:33:00.000-08:00

To see me is to see my iPhone. It’s quite literally an extension of my hand. It goes everywhere with me.

A few nights ago we ate dinner at Taco Bell. (Don’t judge) Afterward we went to the adjacent King Soopers to pick up a few things. Aside from the Taco Bell slip, we’re trying to eat better. (Hey! I thought you wouldn’t judge!)

I wanted to scan a package of whole grain bread to see the nutrition info. I reached for my phone. It wasn’t in my pocket. I checked every other pocket on my person and probably looked like I was publicly groping myself in the bakery. No phone. “Honey, is it in your purse?” Sheena found hers, but not mine. “I gotta check the car!” I knew I left it unlocked and if my phone was in there, it was on the center console in plain view.

I whizzed through the chip aisle and made a bee-line for the door. It was already dark out and I ran for the Jeep through passing headlights, dodging moving cars. I pulled open the door to find. . . NOTHING. It hadn’t slipped to the floor. It wasn’t beneath the seats.

PANIC.

I checked the ground around the vehicle. I must have left it on the table when we ate. I lurched forward toward Taco Bell and started to run. No! I’ll drive! I stopped on a dime and pivoted around toward the Jeep. No! I should tell Sheena I’m leaving! I jerked back toward the store. With my arms stretched forward I must have resembled a zombie from Michael Jackson’s Thriller. (Never thought THAT name would surface in a blog entry) No! There’s no time to waste! I climbed in the Jeep and sped through the lot toward Taco Bell.

They didn’t have my phone. I felt like a fool for even asking at the counter. Like someone would really turn it in. My shoulders slumped and I drove back to the store to get Sheena and Lillian.

When we made it home, my smart little iPhone lay obediently where I left it: On the bed where I rested this afternoon to play Doodle Jump. (Don’t judge!)

The Food Critic

2011-03-09T13:03:00.001-08:00

My nephew Connor is not your average 9 year old. Oh sure, he likes video games and he fights tooth and nail with his brother. But he has an unusual desire to finish his homework immediately and he’d rather be reading than playing sports. Sometimes I think he’s my kid.

Connor is particular. Some might even say picky. This is especially true when it comes to his taste in food. He won’t eat anything below his standards. My sister suggested Taco Bell for lunch one afternoon. Connor refused. “Mom, they slap it together with absolutely no effort and have the nerve to call it food!” How can you argue with that? Don’t suggest McDonalds either.

Since he was old enough to eat he has always been a food snob. It was Christmas 2002, Connor was less than 2 years old and barely old enough to talk. We were downtown to view the Parade of Lights and stopped on the corner of the 16th St mall. Starbucks was giving away free samples of hot cocoa. I took one and bent down to the stroller to give Connor a taste. “Mmmm. Chocolate!” I was blown away. I had no idea that he knew what chocolate was, let alone be able to pronounce it so clearly. When I was 19 months old my tastes barely reached apple sauce.

Anton Ego

Some kids know from an early age what they aspire to be in adulthood. I knew that I wanted to be a writer when I was probably about 6. Last year Connor revealed his dream occupation. “I’m going to be a food critic.”

Yesterday morning I noticed that my sister prepared pasta for Connor’s lunch. Wendy noticed my raised brow and told me that she was out of bread. I asked Connor why he didn’t eat school lunch. “School lunch is disgusting. I won’t eat it.” I asked what type of ‘disgusting’ foods they serve. “Burgers with tasteless meat, disgusting macaroni and cheese. There’s absolutely no fruit.” No fruit? What kind of school lunch is that? “They give apples and oranges, but nothing else. Worst of all, they won’t even let us talk to each other during lunch.” Connor enjoys good conversation with his food. It brings enjoyment to the meal.

His dad mentioned a friend of his with a son Connor’s age, named Conner with an ‘e‘. Kenny told him that the kid has dreams of being a chef and opening his own restaurant. Our little food critic said, “Well if his food is bad, I’ll give him a bad review and have him shut down.”

Recently Connor revealed his Top Ten list of sauces while in the car with his dad. Like any true critic, Connor treats his opinions like fact. The list goes like this:

1)Ranch dressing
2)Marinara
3)Honey Mustard
4)Ketchup
5)Barbeque
6)Teriyaki
7)Worcestershire (which he said is moving up)
8)Soy
9)Orange Chicken glaze
10) A-1 (but only with pork chops)

What I told Connor is this simple. Who says he has to wait until he’s grown-up to be a food critic? He’s old enough to eat, right?

The Irony of my Ironing

2011-01-13T17:13:00.001-08:00

“Ronnie, get in here. It’s your week to clean the kitchen. Wendy had last week.” Mom trumpeted through our small house. An awkward 12 year old shuffled through the living room and groaned looking at the stack of breakfast dishes in the sink and grimy pans stacked on the stove. “That’s not fair!” I said. “Why doesn’t Danny ever have to clean?”
“Because he’s a boy and cleaning is women’s work.” Mom’s words infuriated me. The burning started in my feet and rose quickly through the rest of my body, finally shooting out my mouth like a shift whistle.
“That’s bullshit!” I screamed! “Since when does having a penis count as a free pass from housework?”
“Since the beginning of time, garbage mouth. Now get busy or you’ll be here all day.” She handed me a rag and slammed the dish soap on the counter.
There was no use fighting her. I set to work rinsing egg yolk from dirty plates. Scrubbing the pans coated in bacon grease and cooking oil seemed to drag on forever.
Just when I thought I was finished, Mom would come stomping in there and point out the burned-on food on the stove top.
“Get an SOS pad from under the sink and clean these burners. Don’t just wipe down the counters, move the appliances and clean under and behind them with bleach. Clean the refrigerator handle and door. Sweep the floor when you’re done and then call me so I can come and check it. You know, one of these days when you have a husband and kids, you’ll be thanking me for teaching you how to properly clean. If you settle your ass down and watch me, I‘ll teach you how to cook.”
My mom’s 1950’s mentality made my jaw hurt, most likely from gritting my teeth. And once again, my adolescent rage came bubbling up and out. “It’ll be a mighty COLD DAY IN HELL when I cook and clean for ANY man!”

As it turns out, nearly 30 years later I only ate most of my words. My morning begins with making breakfast, getting my girls ready to meet their day, and shuttling the kid to school. I come back home and have a quick cup of coffee before… wait for it… CLEANING THE KITCHEN.

I find myself comfortably stepping into the role of wife and mother, but certainly not for a man. It’s Sheena that I wait for at the end of the day.

I do laundry, I do toilets, I do dusting and vacuuming. Hell, I even do windows. My favorite task is grocery shopping followed by home cooking. I love the game of budgeting, meal planning, and preparing a delicious meal. I hear my mother’s voice when I both encourage and discipline the kid. I am happy and proud to ultimately be choosing the same life my mom did. And now I understand that she did it because she loves my dad.

I’m sure my parents knew what took me years to understand. You can’t put a price on a solid home life when it comes to marriage and raising children.

Valarie's Home Table

2011-01-06T12:01:00.000-08:00

Stuffins. That’s what Valarie called them. It was the night before Thanksgiving and she was trying a new twist on an old tradition. The stuffing was made with spicy sausage and apples. I helped her chop the apples and Val mixed the ingredients. When she was done the mixture went into the cups of a muffin tin and the tray was popped into the oven. The end result was a savory taste explosion in each muffin.

What do you call it when someone creates something so deliciously fantastic but can’t repeat the dish again? Culinary amnesia? Whatever the affliction, my sweet cousin suffers from it. Actually, those of us waiting at her table are the ones who suffer. But wait! The suffering is short-lived because Valarie will instead make something so tasty that you forget what you were wanting her to repeat. Culinary amnesia in reverse??

I remember an omelet she made that was so special, Adam, Amanda and myself were speechless. Yes, my cousin has a gift. But those of us who have been blessed to be guests at her table, are the ones reaping the sweet, and often savory, rewards.

Listen Globally...

2010-12-20T12:44:00.000-08:00

An infinite beach of white sand melts into water of an unrealistic turquoise hue. The warm waters of the Arabian sea lay across the horizon, lulling me into a heavy and languid sleep. Sadness drips down the walls of my heart until it’s completely saturated. My soul swims in loneliness and struggles against the undercurrent. Tears fall heavily onto the sand before me…

Never have I fallen more deeply in love with a collective musical talent as I have with Pink Martini. Their music ensnares me until I’m a slave to their compositions. If their music were a flavor it would be the darkest chocolate paired with a glass of handmade basket-pressed cabernet. Then I listen again. My words fall flat. Its not simply listening to music. It is a completely encompassing experience. Not only does their music invoke vivid imagery in my mind, but deep and unexpected emotions. Loss, melancholy, like my experience above. Then, soul bursting happiness and joy.

Though Pink Martini originated in Portland they are not of this country musically. With them I have danced all night in a club in Greece, I’ve tangoed in a small bar in Spain, and cried tears over wasted time and heartache in Rio de Janeiro. I’ve felt the Siberian chill at my back while watching snow fall in Red Square. I’ve retreated to my room to smoke away my broken heart in Paris and I’ve looked for Yolanda throughout Mexico.

For me, the finest of these sensory decadent travels is when I spend Una Notte A Napoli… It is truly an out of body experience.

It is unlikely that I will ever have the opportunity to travel the most farthest and obscure places in the world.
…but to purchase the artful music of Pink Martini is to purchase a first-class ticket around the globe.
Photo by Adam Levey2007

Dan

2010-12-02T12:15:00.000-08:00

For 42 years my dad has gotten out of bed at an ungodly hour, showered, dressed in uniform, and driven to work with coffee in hand. His days have been long in all weather conditions, besides mentally and physically demanding. He never ignored an opportunity to work overtime. Most of his weeks were 6 day weeks of at least 10 hours a day. He’s worked sick, injured, and I have no doubt there are days when he wished he would have been anywhere but in his mailroom, casing and sorting mail.

And still he showed up, my dad. With integrity and an iron work ethic.

My dad is a popular man. People are drawn to him for his kindness, generosity to a fault, and soul-warming laugh. He’s kind, considerate, and has a jovial nature. A great conversationalist and the heart of a child with everything still to learn.

I honor him for his wisdom. I respect him for his endurance. And most of all I thank him. Not only for being a provider of everything we could ever need and want, but for being an example of the person I will always strive to be.

Congratulations, dad. On your retirement and the beginning of your new future.

Thank you Veterans

2010-11-11T13:07:00.000-08:00

Today I was watching a Story Corps animation short in honor of Veteran’s Day. It was about a man named Joseph Robertson who was a WWII veteran that served in the Battle of the Bulge, where over 40,000 lives were lost. Allied, German, and civilian. He spoke of a German soldier that he had to kill in self defense and how that memory haunted him for the rest of his life. Mr. Robertson lived until the ripe old age of 90, yet he would still awake in the middle of the night crying over the young German. He sacrificed his inner peace. I can’t imagine such a sacrifice.

http://storycorps.org/animation/germans-in-the-woods/

There are reasons I could never be a soldier. Number one being the fact that I couldn’t take the life of another. Even in self defense, as in Mr. Robertson’s case. Not because of religious convictions, and I sure don’t presume to have a higher moral standard than anyone else. I just don’t possess the strength.

I honor and admire those who fight for our country. I hope that Mr. Robertson finally rests in everlasting peace. I trust he was greeted in heaven by the lives he both saved and touched.

Do You Believe...?

2010-10-22T19:43:00.000-07:00

One morning when I was getting dressed I reached for my deodorant. I use the stick kind. A twist on the bottom and it protrudes higher out the top. I’m careful not to extend it too far out. Just enough to glide a nice layer in a single use. I took off the top and noticed that the stick was extended about an inch and a half. I carefully reversed the dial and pushed it back down where it should be. I figured Lillian must have been playing with it and over twisted the dial. So I put it up on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet where Lil can’t reach it or even see it. I went about my day. The next morning I put on a nice fresh shirt and went to the medicine cabinet to retrieve my deodorant. I took off the cap. The deodorant was again, protruding about an inch and a half out the top. I paused for a moment to think. It was a small effort to get the deodorant back in. I thought perhaps that it loosened and slid out on its own. I shook it and tried to get it to extend. Nothing. I tried shaking it violently to produce the same result. Barely a centimeter. Is it physically possible to extend on its own while sitting completely still on the shelf? …or more interestingly, is it possible that we have a ghost that really cares about personal hygiene?

I think you either believe in paranormal activity or you don’t. But from my experience, most people have had some kind of interaction or know someone that has. I have many things that have happened to me that are beyond reasonable explanation. If I mentioned every story of mine, it may take you until Halloween 2011 to read it. So this includes some of mine and a smattering of others. I hope you enjoy. And eh.. you may want to read this when you’re not alone.

Cheesman Park
About 21 years ago, my brother Dan was entertaining a curiosity of the paranormal and checked out various books on the subject. He took the books with him to Cheesman Park, one of the most infamous parks in Denver. It was a chilly and grey autumn afternoon and Dan sat on a park bench to read. An old man approached him speaking gibberish. He looked down at the witchcraft book my brother was reading and reached forward to take it from his hands. He closed the book and pointed to the picture on the cover. “In a true book of witchcraft, every picture is a letter.“ The old man said.

There was an image of headstones in a cemetery and very distinct old trees. The old man held the book up and pointed to trees and landmarks very similar in the park. Of course Dan knew the history of Cheesman. But he hadn’t equated the library book to the park. Nothing in the title or content indicated any affiliation. The uncanny similarity gave Dan a creepy and uneasy feeling. So Dan told him he had to go and took the book and stuffed it back into his bag. He turned and started walking. The sky was growing dark and he was feeling alone in the open field. He walked about 40 feet and turned to see where the old man went. He was gone. Vanished from a vast open space.

If you are unfamiliar with the facts of Cheesman, click here:

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/co-cheesmanpark.html

The Spitz-Harlton
Two years ago I worked security for a luxury hotel in downtown Denver that shall remain nameless. (It rhymes with Spitz Harlton.) The hotel was new, but the building it occupies is not. The guest floors extend from floors 3 through 14. Floors 15-19 were reserved for exclusive and expensive residences. These were still under construction and only one unit on the 15th floor was occupied. The floors above 19 were apartments unaffiliated with the hotel.

I worked the overnight shift from 10:30 PM to 7:00 AM with an older gentleman named Paul. We would take turns completing a patrol of the entire property including the unoccupied floors. It wasn’t long before Paul and I both noticed strange happenings on the 16th floor. One night Paul returned from completing a round. He was visibly nervous and agitated. He placed his radio on the desk and cleared his throat. He took off his jacket and sat in his chair and fidgeted. We barely knew each other at the time and he was a little uncomfortable telling me what happened. “Have you been to the 16th floor tonight?” Paul asked. Of course I had. We had to complete a foot patrol of each and every floor, using the electronic wand to register our presence at a pre-determined point. “Well, something isn’t right up there. When I stepped out of the stairwell I heard music playing. So I rounded the corner and found one of the construction worker’s radios plugged in and on. I unplugged it and moved it out of the hall. I walked a bit and still heard music. So I walked all of the units and didn’t find anybody. At the other end of the hall another radio was on.” Paul could see the concern on my face.

“Paul, I was up there about 1:00 AM and there was no radio on anywhere.” We tried to come up with possibilities to explain it. There were only 6 employees on staff overnight. Two security, one front desk, one bellman, one housekeeper, and one chef. The housekeeper and bellman were keeping the front desk agent company. We could see them in the cameras. The chef was making our lunch. It wasn’t possible for any guest or unauthorized person to reach that floor without card access. The following night we both patrolled the floor as usual. On the next patrol, Paul found a large wrench in the middle of the hall that had not been there before.

Time passed and we completed our rounds. I always walked briskly through the 16th floor. Never stopping to enjoy the incredible view from the windows, but simply walking and touching the electronic contact with the wand. One night I descended the stairs from 17 and reached for the door leading to the 16th floor. I turned the handle and pulled. The door did not open and I felt a distinct resistance from the other side. I pulled harder and felt an equal amount of pressure behind. Finally the door gave and opened. I stepped through and no one was there. I yelled out to whomever was playing a trick on me. No answer. I walked the entire floor and found no one. I forgot the rest of the patrol and went down to the security office. I turned to Paul. “Paul, about the 16th floor…” before I could finish, Paul blurted out, “Does it feel like someone is pulling on the door??” “YES!” I shouted. Over the next few months we grew somewhat accustomed to the odd happenings. Mostly on that floor, but on other’s as well. In the wee hours one morning Starr was tapped on the shoulder with no one there. That was caught on camera and was actually funnier than hell. I left there shortly after. The strange occurrences did not push me away, but lack of daylight did.

Barbies, Pin-Art, and Serial Killers… OH MY!

Many years ago I was a manager for mall-based toy store. It was about 3 days after Christmas and I was completing an over-nighter with a co-worker named Shannon. We had to tear apart the store front and re-set the fixtures with new promo merchandise. Each fixture had to be taken completely apart and re-assembled for the new layout. At about 2 AM we had toys everywhere, and fixture pieces strewn all over.

Our conversation about ghosts and the paranormal was keeping us alert and the topic then changed to serial killers. I told Shannon about my family’s experience with an escaped Ted Bundy in 1977. As we spoke about this and other scary happenings, we heard something fall in the Barbie aisle. We immediately stopped talking and went to investigate. A doll had toppled onto the floor. We picked it up and agreed to end our creepy discussion.

As we stood in that aisle, we heard a crash up front and ran up there. In the center of the floor, with nothing around it, was a pin-art toy. The plastic packaging was crushed on the corner from the landing. But landing from what? There were no fixtures nearby that this toy could have fallen from. The nearest rack was 15 feet away. I picked it up and placed it on the register counter with my heart pounding. We were locked in the store alone. I immediately conducted a search of the entire store. We were definitely alone. After this, we both had to go to the bathroom which was in the backroom. Not wanting to go alone, we went together. We were not prepared for what we found when we came back to the store front. The pin-art toy was not on the register counter where I left it. It was standing on top of a fixture in the store front. It had the familiar crushed corner of plastic.

We didn’t get killed that night, or anything that dramatic. But it did bring to mind the possibility that perhaps if you speak of ghosts, or evil spirits, you are inviting these things into your immediate world in some sense.

My cousin Amanda lives alone in a 2 story townhouse and sleeps in her upstairs bedroom. She was awakened one night at 3 AM with a large crash from downstairs. Her cat Oreo was lying next to her and sat up just as startled. Amanda didn’t feel brave enough to go down and investigate and instead talked herself into falling back to sleep. When she got up for work in the morning a large and heavy mirror she had on the mantle was laying on the floor with a crack through it. But something wasn’t quite right. The decorative items that sat in front of the mirror were undisturbed.

Shining?

Like Amanda, I haven‘t seen anyone that I knew to be a ghost. But some people have seen them, spoken to them, and interacted with them. Some people have a ‘gift’ for seeing, communicating and interacting with spirits. Perhaps even attracting them?

My cousin Rose has seen many, and in multiple locations. They’ve occupied each of her homes. Never following her and her family to a new home. Just a different set at each one. She spoke to me of a baby presence that left small handprints on the steamed glass of the bathroom mirror. Rose works from home. Her office is in the basement and she works well into the night. When she sees them and they won‘t leave her alone, she stops for the night and heads upstairs. She’s much braver than I.

Not to worry, she’s only imaginary

Is it possible that like animals, children have the ability to see and interact with ghosts? Who’s to say that Imaginary Friends aren’t spirits among us? When I was a child mine was a young girl named Jodi. She was around my age, about 5 or 6 years old and I can still picture her like it was yesterday. She wore round plastic framed glasses and had frizzy hair that was held back in a ponytail. She always wore the same clothes, corduroy pants and a striped cotton shirt with quarter-length sleeves. Jodi lived in the heating vent behind the front door. We played together many times.

In the Suazo household, the ‘imaginary’ friend was a Little Blue Man. Aaron saw him as a child in his bedroom, but only saw a blue head. Eventually, Bev would take over the same bedroom and see the Little Blue Man for the first time when she was just two. She saw him several times after that, walking about in a hurry through the closet. Many years passed and my Auntie Irene never thought the Little Blue Man existed, until just a couple of years ago. She was lying in bed and saw him leave out the window in his trench coat and derby hat. He hasn’t been seen since.

I believe that no one alive will ever know the exact truth about spirits, ghosts, or anything considered paranormal. If we did, if some ghost hunter was to unmistakably prove beyond any doubt that they either exist or don’t exist… wouldn’t that spoil the fun? Wouldn’t that just ruin every October 31st?

Golden...

2010-08-28T16:14:00.001-07:00

I started this entry to draw attention to unfriendly people. You know the ones. The lady who took your place in the check stand that opened up to help YOU. The asshole that parked his huge SUV in the FIRE LANE in front of the store, causing every car to unsafely drive around him in the crosswalk. Thinking of these selfish individuals made me start to feel a little bitter. And I’m already heavy enough without carrying the weight of bitterness around with me. So instead, I decided to share some of my own personal experiences with genuinely kind people. Those whose simple acts brightened my day and warmed my heart.

…I hope these people warm yours too.

My parents are now seniors. Sometimes it takes them longer to do things, they don’t move at break-neck speed anymore and they shouldn’t have to. Thankfully there is a man at Wal-Mart who understands this. He’s a checker named Paul who’s friendly to everyone. He took time ringing out my mom, paying attention to her needs and keeping a conversation with her despite the line behind us. He was never impatient or rude and not once was he condescending. His job can’t be easy and is probably unpleasant a lot of the time, so I find this particularly kind. Wouldn’t it be something if everyone looked out for our parents this way?

Many years ago I was driving down Alameda late at night. I stopped at the red light on Santa Fe Drive. When I looked in my rear view mirror, I saw a large ugly green car barreling towards me without braking. I heard myself scream before impact and my car was projected into 5 lanes of oncoming traffic. Thankfully none of them hit me. When I gathered my senses, I saw a man waving me into a gas station on the corner. I pulled into the lot and stepped out on shaky legs. I was immediately surrounded by at least a dozen people. I saw concerned faces who stopped their cars at midnight to check my well being. 20 years later and I will not forget it.

In Colorado we enjoy more sunshine than most states. We also enjoy our fair share of blizzards too. I used to drive a red Ford Ranger. While it was good to climb through the deep snow, it was light-weight and had difficulty gaining traction on steep hills. One morning I was driving on south Broadway in Littleton. The world was waking up wrapped in several inches of powder that covered sheets of ice. I had a daunting hill in front of me but I had 4 large sandbags in the bed of my truck so I attempted to climb it. Less than half-way up my momentum slowed. I was stuck on the hill and had no way to reverse because of the traffic behind me. My wheels spun on the ice. I felt alone and a little panicked. My anxiety vanished like smoke in the wind when a tow truck came out of nowhere and stopped beside me. He asked “What’s the problem?” and I told him “No traction.” The man nodded and pulled in front of me. He got out grabbed the big tow chain from his truck and hooked it under mine. He put it in gear and in seconds whisked me over the top of the hill. The man stopped, retrieved his chain and left before I could even thank him. On his way to rescue someone else.

Recently, we went to eat at Red Lobster at Belmar. When we were seated, I noticed a very elderly lady dining alone at a table near ours. Our waiter was prompt attentive and friendly. He could carry many plates despite a physical disability. He is missing part of his right arm. During our salads I overheard a conversation he was having with the elderly lady at the next table. Our waiter noticed that she was not eating her fish. The filet was overcooked and the waiter offered to replace it immediately. The lady didn’t want to create a fuss and said she would eat it anyway but he insisted that a replacement would be there shortly. She was very grateful. I was impressed at his service. A minute or two later the manager came over and spoke to her. She apologized for the quality of the fish and told her that her entire meal was on the house. The lady told her it wasn’t necessary to do that but the manager, who knew this lady’s name, thanked her for her continued business and insisted that the restaurant take care of her. This nearly brought me to tears. I rarely see that kind of service, but I was more impressed by the sincere kindness displayed by the waiter and the manager.

The golden rule is taught to children of every faith. We hear it. We even understand it. If you are paying attention, you will see people living it.

Christianity
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Matthew 7:12, Matthew 22:39, Luke 6:31

Judaism
That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn."
—Talmud, Shabbat 31a

Islam
No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.
Sunnah

Taoism
Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain, and your neighbor's loss as your own loss.
—T'ai Shang Kan Ying P'ien

Buddhism
Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.
Udana-Varga 5,1

Hinduism
This is the sum of duty; do naught onto others what you would not have them do unto you.
Mahabharata 5,1517

Back to School

2010-08-11T15:55:00.000-07:00

Over the past few days we have gone shopping for clothes, shoes, a backpack and school supplies. We have struggled through crowds, and we didn’t even shop on the weekend. Forty million moms and their kids crawling over the notebooks and glue sticks. Don’t even THINK about taking your buggy down that aisle.

I think I’m more eager than Lil to get this year started. Not for the reasons you’d think. Oh I’m sure at some point like any parent I’ll be glad to send her away for a few hours, if only for some quiet time to read. But right now I want to be along side her walking into the classroom and learning new things. Simple things. Solid things. Like 4+6. I loved the smell of the chalk, the smell of new crayons. The new sounds- the pencil sharpener, the teacher’s voice. And the clear sound of the school bell.

My favorite visual in the classroom when I was in elementary was the bulletin board. Delicate and detailed, the colorful corrugated borders. The carefully cut letters and meticulously pinned shapes and pictures. Autumn leaves, Halloween witches, holiday cheer. The sum of which equals a melting pot of learning and creativity.

This morning over coffee and Farmville, Lillian was playing “school” with the dry erase board. She went right to work on writing words. This was promising. Sheena and I smiled at each other. Finally a glint of eagerness for the coming school year. Lil wrote one word on the board. Duck. I was impressed. I asked her to try and write Luck. She did! Now Lillian was the teacher and Sheena and I the students. We took turns raising our hands to suggest other words that rhyme with Duck. We went through several. Luck.. Truck.. Muck… Buck… it was Lil’s turn. I waited and watched with curiosity. I had run out of words. There it was. She started with the first letter F. Followed by a U… and a C… I whispered to Sheena. “This one is all you.” By the time she finished the K, she was asking, “What does this say?” Sheena was quick with the firm correction and appropriate discussion about that word. I was trying to keep a serious and straight face.

Yes. It is definitely time to go back to school.

Benji's Junk: Gonads Gone

2010-07-26T09:06:00.001-07:00

Benjamin Peter is my eldest son. Just over one year old and quite a good boy. He’s very loving and affectionate with his two moms, he has impeccable hygiene for a boy, and he likes to style his hair every morning. Benji will climb into the bathroom sink and hold his head under the trickle of water. When his head is adequately wet he uses his paws to spike the hair.

Like males of any species, Benji’s most prized possession is his junk. He likes to walk in front of you and of course, turn around so you can get a nice, un-hindered view. It must get very dirty because several times a day he must clean his junk. Benji must have the cleanest junk on our block.

This Friday last, after much deliberation and finally the decision based on what’s good for my dear son, we had Benjamin neutered. It broke my heart to take away his manhood. Would he be the same Benji? Will he still love his girlfriend Tinkerbell? Will he be resentful toward his moms? Sheena and I weighed these things carefully. It was time. We talked to him every night and explained the procedure. We readied his kennel with his favorite Lion King blanket.

That morning Sheena kissed him and placed him in his kennel. He was being very brave. Lillian and I loaded him in the car and down the road we went. The office was decent and clean. The man behind the desk was very warm and friendly and obviously loved animals. I felt better already. We filled out the paperwork and I knew this was a place that I could leave my son for surgery. I was fine until he took Benji to the back and we walked out the door. We got into the car and I lost it. Uncontrollable tears fell into my lap. What if he thought we left him there? What if he’s scared? What if he thinks we don’t love him anymore?

I would have to wait 7 hours to see him again and comfort him. Lillian tried to make me feel better. “Are you crying? It’s ok. Benji will be ok.” I felt silly that a 5 year old was telling me it will be ok. I sucked it up and stopped crying.

For the next several hours I kept busy. I went shopping with my sister for Sheena’s shampoo. I wrote. I cleaned the house. I deep and detail cleaned the bathroom. That wasn’t enough so I shampooed the carpets. Benji may be in pain and uncomfortable when he gets out, but he would come home to a spotless house.

It was 3:00. Time to go pick up my son. I cleaned the litter box one more time and we left. It was hot outside. They brought his kennel out to me and they said he did really well. The girl gave me some post-op instructions and I asked if he would need a cone. She said, “Only if he’s licking.” I told her that Benji is definitely a licker of his junk and I bought a cone. The ride home was long and hot, but Benji was relaxed and calm. He didn’t seem at all traumatized or resentful about the experience.

When we brought him home he was famished. The instructions said not to feed him dry food until the next day. But Benji didn’t want wet food. Ick. None of our cats enjoy canned food. A shared can of tuna is an occasional treat, but NO wet cat food. He was appalled at the suggestion. He also did not want his food in moderation. This boy was starved. He devoured his Royal Canin with delight. After eating he started to lick what was left of his junk. I tried to stop him, but he kept licking. So out came the new plastic cone. We placed it on him and he flipped about for a bit like an upstream salmon, then he flopped over on his side and looked as though he’d lost all will to live. He also discovered that eating was not as simple as before. Possible, but not simple. I took off the cone when I realized he couldn’t drink water in that thing.

Three days later Benji is the same boy, thankfully. He’s a little more affectionate, no complaints there. He likes to snuggle under blankets now. And he’s constantly eating. I can’t wait until he puts on a little weight and turns into our fat and lazy tom cat.

Benji still styles his hair each day. And best of all, he is still proud of his junk. He keeps it clean and if you let him, he might just show it to you.

A New Breed of Homemaker

2010-07-19T12:40:00.001-07:00

This morning I went to Safeway with Lillian to buy a few things. I like- No. Scratch that. I ENJOY shopping at Safeway, especially the store by our house. The store is not just clean, its Eileen clean. For those of you that know my mother, you know what I mean. It smells nice, the product is full and faced. The produce section is a fresh rainbow of juicy goodness.

For a peaceful shopping experience I go in the morning between 8:30 and 9:00. There are few customers at this time and I don’t like crowds. The employees on the floor are genuine and sincere. When they ask how you’re doing it really feels like they mean it. Today I spoke with a pharmacist and didn’t even need to. She offered to help me and stayed to chat when I told her I didn’t need assistance. Some people go to the mall for relaxation. I go get groceries. Its like a spa visit for me. I don’t need a sea-weed wrap. Just a copy of Time from the magazine aisle and a Starbucks from the counter up front.

I almost always go prepared with a list. Most times by this point I’ve already chosen our dinner menu and I’m supplementing what we already have on hand at home. A spice here, an ingredient there. I take my time and carefully choose what I will be feeding my family. I’m careful not to run out of the things Sheena likes. Coffeemate creamer, wasabi-soy flavored almonds, and Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream. Lillian likes her sandwiches on Sara Lee wheat bread. If there are some kind of chips in the house, I’m happy.

I suppose I’m the new breed of homemaker. Not the June Cleaver of the 50’s waiting for her husband to come home, all the while ironing the sheets in her crisp butter cream dress. I keep the house clean, the laundry washed, the bills paid, help Lillian with her reading, make dinner and write. …and wait for my sweet girl, with hope and love in my heart.

The Sounds of Summer

2010-07-18T11:39:00.000-07:00

According to Amanda, nothing says summer like back-yard barbeques, the roar of motorcycle engines, and sizzling weenies. I would also like to add the aroma of freshly mowed lawns, over-sugared kids with ADD, a slow and savory novel, and the crackle of ice when fresh lemonade meets glass.

As kids, the summers stretched on forever. Each day a smorgasbord of popsicles, running through the hose, picnics in the front yard, and scraped knees. Who can forget those late night hide-and-seek games? I remember Mrs. Martinez scolding me from her bedroom window as I hid below in her lilac bush. The pennies and nickels I collected were never wasted. A bike ride around the corner and I could buy chocolate footballs, Sixlets, and if I saved up enough, the holy grail: a Fun Dip complete with 2 sugar Lik-em sticks.

Like most Hispanic families, relatives were in abundance and never far away. Each weekend was a camping trip, a softball game, a birthday party, or a backyard barbeque. Cousins to play with! My mom and aunties cooked delicious dishes. My dad and uncles drank beer and played horseshoes.

At grilling time, my dad packed the Weber with Kingsford charcoal briquettes and doused it with starter fluid, which my uncle Bill called ‘poker juice’. On one occasion dad struck the match and tossed it in. WHOOSH! Every hair on his face was white. 20+ years later, my best friend Theresa still won’t let him forget it.

I hope everyone is enjoying their summer. I hope you take the time to slow down and pour the lemonade. Take the glass outside and feel the cool grass in your toes. Even though your grill is most likely gas, throw on some weenies and listen to them sizzle!

Welcome to My Heart and Mind

2010-07-17T09:58:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone! If you are reading this you know who I am in some context. I’m known as Veronica, Ronnie, V, Vron, V-Dawg, and sometimes hey-you. I’ve been a writer my entire life, but for some reason have never started my own blog. Hmmm. I have no idea why.

My idea for this blog is to use it as a vehicle to share some of my thoughts with you. (but then why else would I invite you to read it) I don’t plan to post anything too deep or controversial. No political views, no agendas. Just my simple musings on day to day life. I think life is complicated enough. If you want someone to debate or argue with, create your own blog. I'll even visit! If you want something fun, light-hearted, and hopefully a little humorous, then please. Visit often and read on…