Why I wish I'd faked a wooden leg.

I know I always complain about the lack of subway etiquette: the backpacks, the spot pusher-outers, the door stampeders, the armpit-in-your-facers, the nail clippers... It goes on and on.

Today, I offer a new experience:

I'm sitting in one of the single seats on my morning commute into work - one of those seats with the "Please give this seat to the elderly or disabled" stickers. Not my first choice, but it's all that was available. So I'm sitting there, enjoying my coffee, when I feel a heavy tap on my right shoulder. Quite heavy. You know what, never mind heavy tap, I'd say it is better classified as a slap. Shocked, I turned around and looked up to find a tall old man, who must have just boarded the train, glaring at me, and pointing to the sticker. I promptly got up and gave him my seat.

As I arranged myself among the "standers" and reached for the hand rail above my head, I started to consider what had just happened. Normally, I have absolutely no problem giving up my seat to anyone to appears to need it more than I do. In fact, I quite frequently do give up my seat - whether reserved for the disabled or not.

This time, the whole situation really bothered me. Yes, maybe he was having a bad day, but you know what? No excuse. First off, how about a nice tap on the shoulder and an "Excuse me, would you mind if I sat here?" The glare, the smack, and the overall jerkiness were entirely unnecessary. It had that whole "these kids today have no manners" attitude about it. And speaking of manners, I'm sorry, but out of the two of us, the one who would benefit most from an intensive stay at Miss Porter's, surely wasn't me!

Secondly, how did he know that I wasn't disabled myself? (Thus back to the initial politeness of asking for the seat.) Maybe I had a right to be there. Maybe I had a vision problem, or vertigo. Maybe I'd just had bunion surgery, or twisted my ankle on my walk to the train that morning. Hell, I could've had a prosthetic leg for all he knew!

Anyway, it is what it is. I just went about my day as usual. But, now, looking back I wish I'd done something to prove a point to him. Maybe I could have been a bit jerky right back, but nah, that's not me. A better option would have been, upon arriving at my destination, to have exited the train with a slow, heavy limp - and to have made sure he took notice as I dragged one leg behind me until the train moved out of sight.

Sinister, I know, but hey, maybe had I done that, he'd have reconsidered his approach and dialed back on the grouch-o-meter the next time he was in a position to request a seat. Maybe he'd realize that jerkiness is never necessary and that not everyone from my generation on down was raised in a barn (as my nana would say).

Loving winter is just a muppet away.

Personally, I never have the seasonal blues. I take each day for what it is. Spring is beautiful and energizing. Summer is lazy but brings the pressure to "enjoy it while it's here". Fall is refreshing (my favorite). And winter, to me, means, relaxation and reflection.

Winter means we get to enjoy the beauty and new growth of spring. It means we appreciate summer more. It means no guilty feeling for choosing to stay inside, sitting in the window with a cup of tea, as we watch the world go by. 

As for the cold, it's the little things that get me through.  I look forward to cold days, because it means I can finally break out my favorite down puffer. I look forward to snow, because it means my fabulous snow boots that hide away all year can come out of the closet and bring me delight with each step. I don't even mind the rain, because I adore my umbrella: black on the outside, but inside, when I look up, it's lined with happy, smiling muppets - my secret on a rainy day.

You gotta do what makes you happy, and for me, getting through winter is only one smiling muppet away.

A circus monkey? I'm flattered.

It's my last day in my job. I've decided to move to a new role, one more suited to my skills and interests, and one that will allow me to begin sleeping at night again - it's been WAY too long.

So on my last day, I go to my boss and say "OK, do me a favor. I know the loss of my charm and genius will hit the group hard, and I know that I'm completely and entirely irreplacable, but as you seek to find my replacement, just promise me you won't hire a dud."

He pauses a moment and then looks up at me with a huge grin and says, "I've got it all taken care of. It's in the bag. We're getting...a CIRCUS MONKEY!"  Hilarious! And to be honest, I was just so flattered. I mean if you're going to be compared to any animal, what better than a cute little intelligent creature that entertains?  I'll take it!

So after I left, I sent him a wind up monkey that does back-flips to keep on his desk. You know, to help him get through his days without me.  I am still so flattered I've been likened to a circus monkey. Really, they're smart, they dress nicely, and they are a joy to all!

Poem: I'm Thankful Each Day - P.K. Hallinan

Here's another poem I've always loved. I discovered it while I was working in geriatrics - more specifically, Alzheimer's and dementia. We had a reading group that I liked to keep light, and positive. This is actually a children's book. I keep a stash of them on hand to give as gifts! It's perfect for Thanksgiving season.

I'M THANKFUL EACH DAY
by P.K. Hallinan

I'm thankful each day for the blessings I see
and for all of the gifts that are given to me.

And counting the stars at the edge of the sea,
I can't help but feel they were put there for me.

I'm thankful for summers of warm golden days.
I'm thankful for autumns of orange pumpkin haze.

I'm thankful for meadows and bright colored flowers.
I'm thankful for raindrops and soft summer showers.

Each sunset is special - each sunrise is new.
Each breeze in the trees is a promise come true.

Each evening's a wonder where beauty abounds.
Each morning's a harvest of new sights and sounds.

And it's nice to know that beneath winter snow,
the blossoms of spring are beginning to grow.

I'm thankful for friends for laughing and sharing.
I'm thankful for family for loving and caring.

I'm thankful for all the kindness I see.
I'm thankful for peace and pure harmony.

My body's a present of perfect design.
My mind is a power as endless as time.

And if I ever worry that trouble is near,
I always remember there is nothing to fear.

For each hour is laden with infinite love.
Each second brings comfort and joy from above.

And I guess in the end the best thing to say,
is I'm thankful for living - I'm thankful each day!

I'll take a Life in Synergy, thank you very much!

After many years of searching, I've finally found a fitness studio that I love.  Yes, folks, Life in Synergy studio in Boston is my new favorite place!

Growing up, my life revolved around competitive gymnastics. Each day, I spent hours at the gym, in the ballet studio, or traveling to competitions.  It was time-consuming, intense, stressful at times, and yet so fulfilling. I loved it. I ate, slept, and breathed gymnastics through college and then "retired" at the age of 21. 

From that point on, I'd hadn't been able to find a fitness regimen that I liked. To me, working out was associated with swinging, tumbling, dancing...performing. Everything I'd tried post-gymnastics was just monotonous and boring to me. I couldn't find something and make it stick. I tried running - and realized I'd rather poke my eye out than suffer down the street to the sound of my feet slapping the pavement. I'd join gyms, pay the monthly fee, and rarely show up. Even adult gymnastic classes didnt' satisfy me because I found them too basic, which was frustrating. So after bouncing from attempt to attempt, without success, I just gave up, and settled on the couch.

Then, one day at the office, a friend mentioned a place called Life in Synergy and suggested I try it. I said, "I hate gyms." She assured me it's not a gym. It's a studio - classes only.

I said, "Well, even so, I'm sure it has those mean girls that look you up and down and smirk to themselves as you walk in. I'm against them." 

She said, "No! It's not like that! Really!"

So, after she finished telling me about the classes, the fitness method they are based on, and how amazing and fun the owner, Helena, is, I decided to give it a try. And, yay, the first class was free!

Well, my friend was right. I love it. Everyone is so nice. Helena is great, and no mean girls in sight! I actually find myself looking forward to class each week. Who knew? I'm so pleased I found Life in Synergy, and I know it will stick. Stay tuned.

http://www.lifeinsynergy.com/

The triumph of the ruffle collar coat.

OK, so I'm watching my dear Liam in one of his recent films, Chloe, and Amanda Seyfried had on this amazing coat with a feather pattern and ruffle collar.

It was one of those things where, at first sight, you say "Oh, cute coat." Then, you say "I really like that coat." Which then leads to, "I wonder where they got that coat." and finally, "I MUST have that coat." By the end of the movie, I found myself on google frantically searching, using phrases like "chloe coat seyfried" or "amanda seyfried chloe feather coat". 

I learn that I'm not the only one looking for this coat, which as it turns out was from Anthropoligie's Spring 2008 collection. There are websites, and posts, and blogs, all from women who, just like me, "Have to have that coat."  The coat, that is nowhere to be found.

Fast forward a week or so later. I'm on ebay doing my daily search to see if the coat shows up and lo and behold, not only is there in all it's glory in the Clothing, Shoes and Accessories section, but it's there in exactly MY SIZE, listed with a NWT (new with tags) condition.

Game on, people! I WILL HAVE THAT COAT. I notice that I have 6 days, 21 hours, and 7 minutes until the auction ends. I plot my course, deciding to lay low, slinking around in the sidelines while the bidding wars rage on. I watch as three women go back and forth over the course the 6 days, outbidding each other, over and over, only to find one of the others swooped in again with a higher bid. What are they DOING? I want to yell, "Cut the crap, Fargo957! You're driving the cost up!"  Yeesh.

Anyway, it was getting close to closing time, and the question was, "How will you feel if you don't win this item, and how much, after realizing you've lost, would claim you'd have paid?" (I've done this before...I know the pain.) I arrive at an answer, and as the auction is nearing its close, I'm at my computer, sleeves rolled up, feet planted, logged into ebay, ready to key in my top price.

It's brutal in those final minutes folks. Fargo957 is not letting go, but SanFranGlamGal and AnthroGirl are putting up a good fight. Oh, wait, and there's a newcomer, Susan (really?). Anyway, this goes on throughout the final 20 minutes, and the price goes up, up , up - thanks, ladies.

Fifteen seconds to go. Now is my time to shine. I kick my plan into action, placing a bid at my top price, confirming my entry, and suffering through the eternal 2 seconds it takes before telling me where I stand. I won! YYYYYYYYYES! Oh the joy, the joy!! Take that Fargo957! The coat is MINE! (Personally, a coat that lovely does NOT belong in North Dakota, anyway.)

So I've won. Mission accomplished. I am happy. The coat arrived and it was so worth all the plotting and auction stalking. It's glorious.

The best part is, when the auction ended, and the winner was posted, there were three women spread out across the US, each sitting in front of her computer going "Who the HELL is Bozo-the-Cat?!"  :-D

Poem: A Spike of Green - Barbara Baker

I've lways loved this. It's neat - something so simple as seed in a pot of soil, yet so profound at the same time. It's all perspective!

A Spike of Green
by Barbara Baker

When I went out
The sun was hot
It shone upon
My flower pot

And there I saw
A spike of green
That no one else
Had ever seen!

On other days
The things I see
Are mostly old
Except for me.

But this green spike
So new and small
Had never yet
Been seen at all!

Poem: Filling Station - Elizabeth Bishop

I've always loved this poem, because it reminds me of what I call the certain "quality" of looking that my parents tried to instill in me. There's a story - a history - in everything.

Filling Station by Elizabeth Bishop

Oh, but it is dirty!

—this little filling station,

oil-soaked, oil-permeated

to a disturbing, over-all

black translucency.

Be careful with that match!

Father wears a dirty,

oil-soaked monkey suit

that cuts him under the arms,

and several quick and saucy

and greasy sons assist him

(it’s a family filling station),

all quite thoroughly dirty.

Do they live in the station?

It has a cement porch

behind the pumps, and on it

a set of crushed and grease-

impregnated wickerwork;

on the wicker sofa

a dirty dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books provide

the only note of color—

of certain color. They lie

upon a big dim doily

draping a taboret

(part of the set), beside

a big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant?

Why the taboret?

Why, oh why, the doily?

(Embroidered in daisy stitch

with marguerites, I think,

and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily.

Somebody waters the plant,

or oils it, maybe. Somebody

arranges the rows of cans

so that they softly say:

esso—so—so—so

to high-strung automobiles.

Somebody loves us all. 

Every battle makes us stronger.

Recently, a friend asked me out for a drink, telling me she needed to talk.  She wanted an ear, and perhaps my perspective regarding someone close to her. I won't get into the discussion, but I what I'd like to say is below. I don't know if it's right or wrong, but it's what I've come to learn, and live by.

Life is full of ups and downs, and I believe that fluctuation in experience and emotion is what builds us. Without the downs, how would we truly appreciate the ups? Without having fallen, how would we know how to climb? It's having been there ourselves, that allows us to truly recognize that strength of character in others.

And we've all been there. We've fallen, we've hung on, we've climbed back up...and we're stronger for it. We can't steer clear of the pitfalls that line our path in life, but we can learn from them, and recognize what we've taken away: most importantly compassion, a lack of judgement, and strength of character.

I like to think that there is good in everything, and that sometimes it's just not so easy to see. I like to believe that's true. I hold on to that thought, and I look for the good. I look hard. It may be naive, but it gets me through.

And I do believe that though I couldn't see it at the time, I have gained something positive from each bump in the road, whether a small pothole, or a long, steep incline.

I can't avoid the negative. I know that. But I can, at least, try to see the positive - however small it may be.

"Remember Life"

Andy Cohen's tribute to Tasha, originally written in March 2009. It's lovely.

Remember Life - A Tribute to Natasha Richardson

Poem: The Albatross - Beaudalaire

There are many translations of this poem, but this is the one I prefer.

Often to pass the time on board, the crew
will catch an albatross, one of those big birds
which nonchalently chaperone a ship
across the bitter fathoms of the sea.

Tied to the deck, this sovereign of space,
as if embarrassed by its clumsiness,
pitiably lets its great white wings
drag at its sides like a pair of unshipped oars.

How weak and awkward, even comical
this traveller but lately so adroit -
one deckhand sticks a pipestem in its beak,
another mocks the cripple that once flew!

The Poet is like this monarch of the clouds
riding the storm above the marksman's range;
exiled on the ground, hooted and jeered,
he cannot walk because of his great wings.