Compliments

I have always appreciated beauty, but I really learned to "see" in Art School. The teacher instructed us to look at our palms. "How many colors do you see?", she said. After that my eyes opened wider.

I don't remember when I started giving compliments away freely to complete strangers.

I think I started after my Dad died. When I learned life was too short. Someone could be gone before you tell them what you wanted to. People need to be told the good things, or they may never know. Once I started appreciating more of what I was seeing, there was more to compliment.

So I became the Pied Piper of compliments. I still do it all the time, but it makes some people uncomfortable. For that reason, I try to keep it to a "drive by" compliment. I say it as I'm walking by them. "That color is fabulous on you", "you look lovely", "cool shirt". I do it slowly enough to be able to see a reaction and most people seem to appreciate it, and that makes me feel good too.

I never get tired of hearing compliments.
John Lithgow  

There are only three things women need in life: food, water, and compliments. 
Chris Rock


I can take criticisms but not compliments. 
James Taylor


I don't take compliments so well. I always hang my head and shuffle and kind of try to immediately forget.
Laurie Anderson 

Stubby Little Toe

I got a mosquito bite on my stubby little toe. It's been three days and it's still driving me crazy. I have the teeniest tiniest little stubby toe, with a barely there nail and right now it's so darn itchy and has been for three days its making me insane. I tried an emery board to stop the itch, but mostly I just keep rubbing against the toe next to it or on to my other foot. In reality I'm rubbing it on anything it gets next to.

At this point I want to cut it off.

Seriously, if the central air hadn't broken two days ago, I would be totally fixated on my little stubby toe.

I Almost Saw Paul McCartney

When I watched the Beatles consecutive appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show I was ten. When they left the stage after the last song on the last night, a few tears rolled down my cheek and my Dad made fun of me.

I had nightmares and would sleep with a nightlight on. My Mom was a waitress and sometimes she worked at night. When I woke up in the morning I'd find things she brought home for me sitting on the floor by my nightlight. Beatles magazines, Packs of gum that contained Beatles cards, Beatles buttons, a 45rpm.

I favored Paul, he was cute and he seemed nice, my second fave of the fab four was George, he was cute too and he seemed like a bit of a loner (always went for the loners). John always seemed too full of himself and Ringo just a bit silly. But they were a group and that's usually the way I thought of them.

I never saw the Beatles live, but I did see The Dave Clark Five at the age of eleven. I went to concerts, not as many as some peers, but enough. It was exciting when I was there, but at this age it's mostly just a blur. I still enjoy any kind of live music and will occasionally attend a concert out of nostalgia. I tend to avoid crowds nowadays.

Paul McCartney played in Philadelphia a few years ago, I thought about going, then forgot about it. The concert came and went and I was sad I hadn't even tried to get tickets. It may have been my last chance.

Regret sucks. I let it go.

Last summer he returned. Tickets were exorbitant and I think they sold out rather quickly. The idea of seeing Sir Paul left my brain, but still unbeknownst to me the idea never left my heart.

A couple of days before the concert a friend called and asked what I was doing on a particular night. I rambled on, I don't remember what I said. Then I heard my friend say; "You're going to see Paul McCartney". To say that I was dumbfounded would have been an understatement.

Somebody couldn't attend due to a business trip, so they asked my friend, my friend already saw McCartney, thought I would want the ticket, blah,blah,blah. Long story short, the friend of the friend of the friend went. Not me. It doesn't matter.

For twenty four hours I thought I might see Paul McCartney.
My heart was happy.

Just like when my Dad made fun of me for crying when the Beatles played their last song on Ed Sullivan, but my Mom brought me trinkets to keep the happy feeling alive.

In this instance too,
it most surely was
the thought that counts.

Arsenic and Old Feelings

Someday's I feel empty (negative), other day's I feel full (positive). We all have days that aren't so great, sometimes they come in a long string of days. The kind of day when nothing goes right. On the other hand, some of those days ~ when nothing goes right....I still feel full and complete.

Sometimes I love to be alone and other times it drives me nuts. I roam from room to room and I just don't have the energy to do or create anything. Jeez I even lack the concentration to watch a new film. On that kind of day I need to watch a movie I've seen a million times, eat pizza and have a glass of soda, preferably Black Cherry.

Then there are the times I've got that creative bug. I sketch ideas, I make lists of things to do and then I do them. I even run all of my errands. What gives?

I have cultivated good friends over the years. These people "get me" these are the friends who understand that on the day I feel full I say yes. They understand on the days I'm empty I need to say no, even if I've already said yes. I can be a pain in the you know what. Old feelings, old reactions, effect me when I least expect them, like poison.

If only I could bury my old feelings of negativity in my cellar.

Little Lawrence of Arabia

This is my daughter about eight years ago on a windy day at the beach. Today was such a day, but much worse. Today when you looked out across the sand you could see a thin mist. Today the lifeguards had long pants and long sleeves. Today the sand stung.

The minute I walked on the beach I remembered the time I was with my parents during a "sand storm", I was five and that's what I referred to it as my whole life. My Dad had several Restaurateur's in his family and one owned a place in Atlantic City, NJ, another owned a juice joint on the Boardwalk. The restaurant was a nice piece of real estate on a corner lot and had lodgings on the floors above, which is where we stayed most summers.

I don't remember much of the day just that my mom kept me wrapped in a towel. What I remember most are the stories I had to listen to about my reaction to the windy day at the beach.. How I whined, cried, was generally miserable and ruined everyone's fun.

Well, today I was not about to ruin anyone's fun!

I hung in there, my daughter and I walked up and down the beach, she played, I sat all the while with the sand pounding, getting into my eyes, my hair, and everything in the beach bag was covered with sand. My towel could have filled a child's bucket. But I waited until she said "Okay, we can go." I asked if she was sure and we walked back to our bungalow.

I think I can stop feeling guilty now.

The Dragonflies

My Small homage to Alfred Hitchcocks "The Birds"


My girls and I took a leisurely ride on Saturday to our vacation spot for the week. From our house it's normally a ninety minute ride. On an average Saturday in the summer if you get too late a start you can hit some bumper to bumper traffic as you get closer to the island and we did.


Aside from noticing the same vehicles moving ahead and behind, behind and ahead, over and over. I noticed an abundance of Dragonflies. As I looked closer I noticed most every dragonfly seemed to be flying atop another dragonfly. They were mating.


Boy were they. Once I became aware of it, I noticed hundreds of dragonflies, more than I'd seen in my entire life as a whole. Obviously delirious, there sex drive pushing them into over drive, they seemed to be flying with a devil-may-care attitude nearly dive bombing the car several times. It got to be like a seen from "The Birds" Everywhere I looked more dragonflies.


"Ristle-tee, rostle-tee, hey donny dostle-tee, knickety-knackety, retro-quo-quality, willoby-wallaby, Now, now, now!"


I was thankful that day that I was not driving a convertible.

Teen Guide: How to Hook up w/a Lifeguard

Me and my eleven year old daughter went to the beach early this morning like we've done every morning this week. We get there before the lifeguards set up. It's a ritual for the two of us. This morning we were running a little late and shortly after we arrived the lifeguards got there. About every two blocks there are different lifeguards.

This morning the Greenhead flies were all over, they out numbered the dragonflies and they were relentless. There was no way to sit comfortably or stand still without flies swarming. So we went for a walk along the beach. We had walked about two blocks when my daughter got a bad bite that started to bleed. I wiped it with my finger which made it look as tho I was the one bleeding. We were very close to the lifeguards, and the blood kept flowing, so I walked her over and asked if they had a band aid.

The tall bench held two male lifeguards, one seemed more in charge than the other, they pulled out the first aid bag and searched threw to find what they needed. Then the more senior lifeguard jumped off of the high chair and started caring for my little girls wound. He wiped it with a piece of gauze, cleaned it with antiseptic, and told her it wouldn't hurt, when it did he said "not for long". He dried it with another gauze pad and gently placed the band aid on her shin.

This guy was every teenage girls dream. Built like an Adonis, sandy blond hair, perfectly bronzed, sweet, caring and calm. Did I say handsome? My daughter kept her cool, but as we walked off waving our thank you's, I noticed my little girl grinning from ear to ear. I said "He was pretty cool huh?" her reply: "OMG!" She may have been swept off her feet. This was a moment she would never forget.

I tried to explain to her how teenage girls would have envied her position, had there been any on the beach. I joked that I was surprised that more girls don't make themselves bleed just for the attention. Lord knows I never thought of it when I was in my teens.




There is no real moral or point to this tale other than to mark this day in history by posting it on my blog.

Just because I can.