What...No Spell Check???

Good Evening...should anyone wonder by and type in the right write words...

Jean Blackburn just (Tuesday afternoon) stopped by for a quick visit to 504 Duncan. I asked her what she was going to do now tht she found she could write fiction. She talked about getting nothing done since BR and her need for discipline. I think that may be true for the vast majority of us. What we need is a Marine Corps Drill Instructor!

We are trying to get back in stride after the trip out to California. I certainly felt the week at Bishop's Ranch was very special. I just know some good writing is going to come out of BR 2007.

This entry is really more of a test to see if I could get through the system. So far so good and quite easy.

Hugs to all.

Ragan

This Present Moment

". . . we are alive in the present moment, the only moment there is for us to be alive.

Every breath we take, every step we make, can be filled with peace, joy and serenity.

We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment."

Thich Nhat Hanh

When I Grow Up I Want To Be . . .

I thought I wanted to be a skinny African American woman, but since I'm NOT black, and I'm NOT even CLOSE to skinny, and I DON'T have a vagina, I'm sort of having to rework my life's dream. Second choice: I want to be Michael Buble'. He has that awesome Frank Sinatra vibe without the dated crooning, and he's also sort of Harry Connick, Jr.-esque -- coolness factor without the N'awlins attitude. I'm obsessed with his vocal stylings this week, but the thing that keeps me listening to the guy is how much he loves women . . . and I mean he LOVES women. He sings "Try a Little Tenderness" on It's Time. That tune has been covered by a dozen other artists, but his interpretation oozes empathy, admiration, and, well, tenderness. Man, to have that skill. Better than that, to have that heart. Mmmmmm-hmmmmm.

Lost Blogs

I have absolutely no idea where the blog I wrote on Monday went. I'm assuming it's in outer space or something. Needless to say, I'm new at this and my kids - experts on any and all types of emailing, IM'ing, Face Book, My Space, etc., are at school.
Monday was not the best day. Besides trying to re-enter life after my idyllic week at the Bishop's Ranch, I discovered that I'd somehow scheduled my annual mammogram AND GYN appointment for the same day. Holy Moly. Tuesday was a huge shop-o-rama at Costco, given that the college kids are filtering back home (at least my son could carry all the guano up the stairs from the garage to the kitchen). Yesterday I also had two appointments and today, blessedly, nothing. I am determined to type up my writings from Nightwriters and write something new this afternoon.
Steve, I am sorry about your father. It sounds like you have a realistic view about his condition, which reminded me of a story. I began seeing a acupuncturist last year after I got 'frozen shoulder' following a severe dislocation/fracture of my left shoulder I received while skiing. Her name is: Raimin Liu, pronounced, "Ree-mee Loo." She is originally from Shanghai, where her parents and extended family live. Somehow we got on the subject of death and were comparing how the Chinese and American cultures deal with it. This is the story: One morning her grandfather came to breakfast and told the family that he'd dreamed about 'mother'. Everyone thought he was talking about his recently deceased wife. When questioned further, he said he meant his mother. The family knew, right there and then, that he would die soon. Chinese believe that when you have dreams like that, it means you will die. So they went out and bought him a brand new suit and had his hair cut. His death was something they were looking forward to - it meant he was simply going to a different place. It was nothing to be sad about. I marveled at the differences between their culture and ours.
It's supposed to be 94 today, so I'm getting ready to fire up the A/C already. UGH!! Gus and Emmy both have lacrosse games this afternoon and it'll be a scorcher. I miss you all and hope you're doing well. Take good care. Love, Diane

Ma'am thoughts

In one of my stories recently, I used “ma’am” as a doctor spoke to the wife of a patient. In reviewing it, Kirsten asked if doctors in Texas always did this, as doctors in California weren’t so deferential. In thinking about it, and talking to Jane we realized it was a universal part of Texas and maybe the South. We came up with several observations regarding this tiny title.

Ma’am and sir are equivalent but based on gender. To say ma’am to a male or sir to a female is a serious insult and is never done.
Ma’am defines a level of respect, makes the person one is speaking to know that you recognize them and will not cross the line of that respect. I found it particularly useful in connecting with older patients or African-American patients.
“Yes, ma’am” is the only acceptable response to a mother or grandmother’s question or command. Ex: “Will you get me a quart of milk?” “John, clean up your room.” No ma’am, or any other negative response, is not usually considered an option. Deep sighs, rolling eyes, books shutting and doors slamming can accompany the response to express displeasure, but the only words allowable are “Yes, ma’am.”
Ma’am may be used sarcastically when speaking to a younger woman or girl, indicating that the speaker is displeased with the level of respect being given. It is a siren warning of an approaching tornado that is usually recognized in Texas children by age five.
For a child to say “Yes” or “OK” or “all right” rather than “Yes ma’am” labels that child a smart aleck, which is a precursor to a life of crime.

Jane tells me that our son-in-law Matt has only recently stopped saying ma’am to her with every phrase. He married my daughter three years ago, and this is about the right time frame for him to relax a little. But he was raised by a fine East Texas woman and I am sure it is hard for him.

Everybody Dies

My dad got his prognosis yesterday: nine to twelve months, with or without treatment. He was practically giddy. My mother was devastated. I just watched. I felt like the character in "A Chorus Line" who sings, ". . . and I felt nothing, I felt nothing . . ." My dad's reaction was, "Well, I need to wrap up the sale of that business." Then he turned to me and said, "Let's make sure you have that Power of Attorney." He seemed pleased to have a goal, a task to complete before reaching the deadline. Taking care of business. That's what men in his generation do . . . or maybe that's what all men do . . . or maybe that's what people do. My mother just cried.

I made it

I'm back at work now. Not working though, as you can see. My heart aches when I think of the abrupt change from greenery to gray cube. I have a few bug bites and a few pounds left to remind me I was in a different world just a few short days ago.