Gentle Readers,
Now that I have all of you depressed and terrified with the story of my broken back, I hope you'll spend some time this weekend checking out our very positive friend, Cinderita. She will help you feel better: I promise. And the particular post to which I've provided a link compliments a number of bloggers and one is named Lola. Could it be moi?
I don't know, but if it's not me, I think I'd better do more sucking up so I've rewritten some song lyrics in honor (actually I should write honour because she's Canadian) of Cinderita:
Happy again to be at Cinderitaville.
Even found my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim the world's improved and we have Rita to thank,
And we know
It's because of her hugs.
I hope you have a lovely long weekend.
Infinities of love,
Lola
My motto as an editor: Authors are the authority on their work. I'm a full-service editor. For a reasonable fee, I'm your writing coach from the first suggested revision to the correction of the final typo.
Showing posts with label XXI Winter Olympic Games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label XXI Winter Olympic Games. Show all posts
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
THERE'S A LOT I DON'T KNOW
Gentle Readers,
Favorite Young Man was but a babe in arms, undergoing the inspection of two older women. They admired his tiny blue terry cloth shorts and top.
The shorts are getting too small, I said. He won't be able to wear them much longer.
They felt the waist band of the shorts and replied, Why, all you have to do is take out the elastic and blahblahblah make them bigger.
I don't know how, I said.
YOU DON'T KNOW HOW? they screeched.
No, I don't know how. I don't know how to sew.
I thought they were going to have heart attacks and die on the spot andrather than be responsible for calling the paramedics and have to clean up the damn mess because most people barf when they have heart attacks so I bade them a fond farewell and prayed to God I would never have to look at their stupid faces or hear their screechy voices again for them to be healthy, wealthy, and wise.
Yes, there's a lot I don't know. It's really easy to say that something is easy when you already know how to do it. But what's easy for me, like writing a blog post or creating a Web site, maybe somebody else wouldn't think it's so easy.
My skills are pretty limited, and I blame it on my mother, as we all must blame our mothers for something that's wrong with us, but don't go getting any ideas Favorite Young Man and Someone I Love.
Mother made my older sisters cook and clean, but in general, as the youngest, I was not allowed to do anything. I would not do it right.
I did not glory in my place of honor as Mother's baby who did not have to do the work. I knew my sisters hated me for it. I actually tried to step in and help at times. Once when I was home alone, I --GASP! -- washed the dishes. Mother yelled at me for not getting all the dish soap out of the cups and I was told to never do it again.
If I tried to wipe off the kitchen counter, I got it too wet -- as if it would never dry. I was not allowed to add an ornament to the Christmas tree because I would not do it right. I couldn't even put on a single fucking strand of fucking tinsel.
So, here I sit at my computer. I don't know how to sew. I don't know how to can corn. I don't know how to do this, that, and the other thing because Mother wouldn't let me and I'm still afraid I won't do it right.
BUT . . .
You want your Chaucer read in Middle English? I'm your woman.
You need some great quotations from poetry or Shakespeare or want an original poem for a special occasion? I'm your woman.
You need a 14-inch article? Give me the facts and in 20 minutes it's yours and will require little to no editing.
You need a wound cleaned and bandaged? I can do it as well as any doctor and I won't get grossed out and barf.
I have my talents. They just don't involve sewing machines or putting food in jars. It's not a problem. There are people you can pay to alter clothes. It's their job. And -- I know this one is hard to believe but I swear to GOD it's true -- you can buy food already in jars at a store that's meant especially for selling food in jars and cans.
I think Mother was proud of me for a couple of reasons when I was young: She loved it that I was very thin --didn't know I was anorexically thin -- and people quite often commented on how cute I was. Mother would whisper to me with delight about how someone behind her had been whispering about me, Oh she always looks so cute.
And if Mother were here today, I don't think it would bother her that I can't sew or can food or do a lot of the things she did. She would be thrilled that I finished college and that my writing has been published in magazines and newspapers. She would show strangers on the street my byline.
She would go on and on about how hard working and good looking Favorite Young Man is and what a cutie Little Chick is and how sweet LL, RL, AR, and NL are and how talented and beautiful Someone I Love Is and oi! she would love Brilliant Buff British Boyfriend.
And she would still think I'm cute, especially since Sam cut my hair in a wedge recently and it's absolutely the most adorable hair cut I've ever had.
Yes, there's a lot I don't know.
But I managed to jump in and learn how to do a few things and then teach my children how to do those things and then they learned even more on their own.
Best of all, I know how to love, and I love God, my children, my friends, and my dogs. And I know that the more I love, the more love there is. The supply of love is never depleted because you've shared it. Love expands constantly. It's a law of physics.
That's why I have . . .
Infinities of love,
Lola
Favorite Young Man was but a babe in arms, undergoing the inspection of two older women. They admired his tiny blue terry cloth shorts and top.
The shorts are getting too small, I said. He won't be able to wear them much longer.
They felt the waist band of the shorts and replied, Why, all you have to do is take out the elastic and blahblahblah make them bigger.
I don't know how, I said.
YOU DON'T KNOW HOW? they screeched.
No, I don't know how. I don't know how to sew.
I thought they were going to have heart attacks and die on the spot and
Yes, there's a lot I don't know. It's really easy to say that something is easy when you already know how to do it. But what's easy for me, like writing a blog post or creating a Web site, maybe somebody else wouldn't think it's so easy.
My skills are pretty limited, and I blame it on my mother, as we all must blame our mothers for something that's wrong with us, but don't go getting any ideas Favorite Young Man and Someone I Love.
Mother made my older sisters cook and clean, but in general, as the youngest, I was not allowed to do anything. I would not do it right.
I did not glory in my place of honor as Mother's baby who did not have to do the work. I knew my sisters hated me for it. I actually tried to step in and help at times. Once when I was home alone, I --GASP! -- washed the dishes. Mother yelled at me for not getting all the dish soap out of the cups and I was told to never do it again.
If I tried to wipe off the kitchen counter, I got it too wet -- as if it would never dry. I was not allowed to add an ornament to the Christmas tree because I would not do it right. I couldn't even put on a single fucking strand of fucking tinsel.
So, here I sit at my computer. I don't know how to sew. I don't know how to can corn. I don't know how to do this, that, and the other thing because Mother wouldn't let me and I'm still afraid I won't do it right.
BUT . . .
You want your Chaucer read in Middle English? I'm your woman.
You need some great quotations from poetry or Shakespeare or want an original poem for a special occasion? I'm your woman.
You need a 14-inch article? Give me the facts and in 20 minutes it's yours and will require little to no editing.
You need a wound cleaned and bandaged? I can do it as well as any doctor and I won't get grossed out and barf.
I have my talents. They just don't involve sewing machines or putting food in jars. It's not a problem. There are people you can pay to alter clothes. It's their job. And -- I know this one is hard to believe but I swear to GOD it's true -- you can buy food already in jars at a store that's meant especially for selling food in jars and cans.
I think Mother was proud of me for a couple of reasons when I was young: She loved it that I was very thin --didn't know I was anorexically thin -- and people quite often commented on how cute I was. Mother would whisper to me with delight about how someone behind her had been whispering about me, Oh she always looks so cute.
And if Mother were here today, I don't think it would bother her that I can't sew or can food or do a lot of the things she did. She would be thrilled that I finished college and that my writing has been published in magazines and newspapers. She would show strangers on the street my byline.
She would go on and on about how hard working and good looking Favorite Young Man is and what a cutie Little Chick is and how sweet LL, RL, AR, and NL are and how talented and beautiful Someone I Love Is and oi! she would love Brilliant Buff British Boyfriend.
And she would still think I'm cute, especially since Sam cut my hair in a wedge recently and it's absolutely the most adorable hair cut I've ever had.
Yes, there's a lot I don't know.
But I managed to jump in and learn how to do a few things and then teach my children how to do those things and then they learned even more on their own.
Best of all, I know how to love, and I love God, my children, my friends, and my dogs. And I know that the more I love, the more love there is. The supply of love is never depleted because you've shared it. Love expands constantly. It's a law of physics.
That's why I have . . .
Infinities of love,
Lola
Monday, March 1, 2010
OH CANADA
Gentle Readers,
I have finished watching the Olympic Winter Games on my DVR and I pronounce them a great success. You can now tell me who won the medals and I will say, Yes, I know.
Unfortunately, the games began with a tinge of sadness when a Georgian bobsledder was killed in an accident on the "world's fastest track," but life and the games go on.
From the Opening Ceremony to the closing on the last night of February, the Canadians conducted themselves with grace and humor. I'm not even upset that the Canadians managed to whip it out in the end and win gold in ice hockey. Our American team did a great job and brung home the silver. That's fine. I know that gold means the world to Canada.
If you don't know how Canada rescued six American diplomats in 1979 during the Iranian hostage crisis, then do yourself a favor and conduct a little research. Our neighbors to the north are some darned good folks. We could learn some lessons from them about health care, manners, and most important, how to stop shooting each other.
Canada, long may you run, long may you run, long may you run.
Love ya Canada,
Dumped First Wife
I have finished watching the Olympic Winter Games on my DVR and I pronounce them a great success. You can now tell me who won the medals and I will say, Yes, I know.
Unfortunately, the games began with a tinge of sadness when a Georgian bobsledder was killed in an accident on the "world's fastest track," but life and the games go on.
From the Opening Ceremony to the closing on the last night of February, the Canadians conducted themselves with grace and humor. I'm not even upset that the Canadians managed to whip it out in the end and win gold in ice hockey. Our American team did a great job and brung home the silver. That's fine. I know that gold means the world to Canada.
If you don't know how Canada rescued six American diplomats in 1979 during the Iranian hostage crisis, then do yourself a favor and conduct a little research. Our neighbors to the north are some darned good folks. We could learn some lessons from them about health care, manners, and most important, how to stop shooting each other.
Canada, long may you run, long may you run, long may you run.
Love ya Canada,
Dumped First Wife
Friday, February 19, 2010
PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN
Gentle Readers,
I kinda ran out of gas today. It's been a hard week, and I was feeling pretty sad.
But then I went back to Vancouver.
How about them Americans?
Six medals on Wednesday - three of them gold. The most medals the U.S. has ever won in a single day in the Winter Games.
And now I really have to gloat.
Yevgeny Plushenko, who won gold in men's figure skating in Torino, came out of a 3 1/2 year retirement because he wanted to win back to back golds like American Dick Button in 1948 and 1952.
Plushenko thought he was The Shit. God's gift to figure skating. In first place after the short program, but if he didn't notice how good reigning World Champion American Evan Lysacek was, then he wasn't paying attention. Maybe Plushenko was too busy admiring himself in the mirror.
Lysacek was in second place after the short program and not far behind Plushenko at all. For me, it was almost like the Cold War was back.
Then Thursday night, it was Lysacek standing on the center podium while The Star Spangled Banner played. I sang along although my favorite younger man said, "That's about enough of that" when I got to the high notes. But I didn't quit. I was too proud. I said, "I'm just not warmed up" and kept on singing.
Lysacek is the first American to win Olympic gold in men's figure skating since the great Brian Boitano in 1988.
Yes, Plushenko is a jumping machine, but he's really not much else. He still got his silver and he now has three Olympic medals, quite a rarity in figure skating.
But Lysacek had it all - the jumps, the grace, the spins, the foot work, the perfect choreography.
Take a look and learn what a true champ looks like Plushenko.
Evan Lysacek, I am so proud of you.
And kudos to Johnny Weir, who took sixth place, and did it his way. A lovely program.
Love,
Dumped First Wife
I kinda ran out of gas today. It's been a hard week, and I was feeling pretty sad.
But then I went back to Vancouver.
How about them Americans?
Six medals on Wednesday - three of them gold. The most medals the U.S. has ever won in a single day in the Winter Games.
And now I really have to gloat.
Yevgeny Plushenko, who won gold in men's figure skating in Torino, came out of a 3 1/2 year retirement because he wanted to win back to back golds like American Dick Button in 1948 and 1952.
Plushenko thought he was The Shit. God's gift to figure skating. In first place after the short program, but if he didn't notice how good reigning World Champion American Evan Lysacek was, then he wasn't paying attention. Maybe Plushenko was too busy admiring himself in the mirror.
Lysacek was in second place after the short program and not far behind Plushenko at all. For me, it was almost like the Cold War was back.
Then Thursday night, it was Lysacek standing on the center podium while The Star Spangled Banner played. I sang along although my favorite younger man said, "That's about enough of that" when I got to the high notes. But I didn't quit. I was too proud. I said, "I'm just not warmed up" and kept on singing.
Lysacek is the first American to win Olympic gold in men's figure skating since the great Brian Boitano in 1988.
Yes, Plushenko is a jumping machine, but he's really not much else. He still got his silver and he now has three Olympic medals, quite a rarity in figure skating.
But Lysacek had it all - the jumps, the grace, the spins, the foot work, the perfect choreography.
Take a look and learn what a true champ looks like Plushenko.
Evan Lysacek, I am so proud of you.
And kudos to Johnny Weir, who took sixth place, and did it his way. A lovely program.
Love,
Dumped First Wife
Thursday, February 18, 2010
OH CANADA
Greetings from Vancouver, Gentle Readers!
O.K. I'm not there in body, but in spirit - you bet! I am lovin' the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, British Columbia.
If you've never been to British Columbia and you have the opportunity to travel there, then by all means, go go go! I have visited Vancouver and Victoria more than once and loved it every time. Beautiful parks, amazing gardens, nice restaurants, great shopping, lovely scenery, and I have never met an unfriendly Canadian.
I have been in love with the Winter Olympics for quite some time. I prefer them to the summer games. Maybe it's because they seem a bit smaller and more intimate to me and I just like looking at people who are capable of sliding around on the ice and the snow more than I do people running around a dry track in circles.
My first Winter Olympics memory - and I was scarcely more than a toddler - is of Peggy Fleming skating at the 1968 Winter Games in Grenoble, France. She brought home the only gold won by the U.S. during those games.
There she was in her sweet little green costume that her mom sewed for her. Peggy epitomized beauty and grace. I was in love.
We weren't a family that gathered around the television to watch the games so I'm surprised that I even got to see Peggy. But I got a great gift from God that year.
I happened to be alone in our living room with the barely watchable black and white TV. I'm amazed we got the right channel because most of the time we only got one. That night I saw Peggy skate to gold, all by myself, in peace and quiet - something that was rare in our house.
Many, many years later my husband and I went to a tour of champions ice show and Peggy performed. She didn't do the big jumps like the Mexican jumping bean kids, but she was still just as beautiful and graceful, and I would guess she was 40+ years old.
All Peggy had to do was pose on the ice wearing her skates and she represented perfection.
Then in Innsbruck, Austria, in 1976, who didn't love Dorothy Hamill? That cute hair cut, the Hamill Camel, and she was kinda sensitive. She was known for rushing off in tears occasionally. Well if she cried the night of the long program, they must have been tears of joy. Gold for Dorothy!
And how about the 1980 Olympics in Lake Placid? We watched with our first child inside of me. MIRACLE ON ICE! The only time I've ever been fascinated by ice hockey. And don't forget Eric Heiden and his five gold medals in speedskating. Man, that guy had some legs on him.
I have also enjoyed some men's figure skating. Scott Hamilton comes immediately to mind. He won gold in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, in 1984. How sad it is now to see the ruins of the Olympic sites there.
We also saw Scott skate in Stars on Ice, which our children were old enough to attend. He did his famous back flip, but I think the most exciting moment of the night came after all the stars were introduced and did their opening number.
The 1992 games in Albertville, France, had just been held.
The arena went dark.
I saw a young man on the ice through the darkness. His presence had not been announced, but I immediately knew who it was. I whispered to my son, "It's Paul Wylie."
And then Scott Hamilton introduced Paul and the crowd went wild.
Paul was a great favorite of ours who just never seemed to quite make it. He was a close but no cigar kind of skater. In fact, he had skated so poorly prior to the Olympics that some silly people questioned his presence on the team.
But we knew he could do it. Paul, we had faith in you. Paul went to Albertville and in a stunning upset won the silver medal. We were so proud.
Well, I could go on and on and maybe I will in another post, but that's enough reminiscing for today. Don't tell me who won medals last night. I record the games with my close personal friend DVR and then watch them the next evening so I don't have to put up with commercials.
I do have some questions though.
Why are most male figure skaters said to reach their peak at 25 - 26 years of age, while the "women" so often look like little kids barely out of diapers? Remember Tara Lipinsky?
And when in the hell are you people - and you know who you are - going to stop reminding Lindsey Jacobellis and the rest of the world that she ONLY won silver in snowboard cross during the 2006 games in Torino? Quitcher dumping on Lindsey.
Let
It
Go
And why is Bode Miller named Bode? Is it his real name? Is it a nickname? And if you are Bode's parents, what in hell led you to name him Bode?
Just curious.
Keep up the great work Canada.
Love,
Dumped First Wife
O.K. I'm not there in body, but in spirit - you bet! I am lovin' the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, British Columbia.
If you've never been to British Columbia and you have the opportunity to travel there, then by all means, go go go! I have visited Vancouver and Victoria more than once and loved it every time. Beautiful parks, amazing gardens, nice restaurants, great shopping, lovely scenery, and I have never met an unfriendly Canadian.
I have been in love with the Winter Olympics for quite some time. I prefer them to the summer games. Maybe it's because they seem a bit smaller and more intimate to me and I just like looking at people who are capable of sliding around on the ice and the snow more than I do people running around a dry track in circles.
My first Winter Olympics memory - and I was scarcely more than a toddler - is of Peggy Fleming skating at the 1968 Winter Games in Grenoble, France. She brought home the only gold won by the U.S. during those games.
There she was in her sweet little green costume that her mom sewed for her. Peggy epitomized beauty and grace. I was in love.
We weren't a family that gathered around the television to watch the games so I'm surprised that I even got to see Peggy. But I got a great gift from God that year.
I happened to be alone in our living room with the barely watchable black and white TV. I'm amazed we got the right channel because most of the time we only got one. That night I saw Peggy skate to gold, all by myself, in peace and quiet - something that was rare in our house.
Many, many years later my husband and I went to a tour of champions ice show and Peggy performed. She didn't do the big jumps like the Mexican jumping bean kids, but she was still just as beautiful and graceful, and I would guess she was 40+ years old.
All Peggy had to do was pose on the ice wearing her skates and she represented perfection.
Then in Innsbruck, Austria, in 1976, who didn't love Dorothy Hamill? That cute hair cut, the Hamill Camel, and she was kinda sensitive. She was known for rushing off in tears occasionally. Well if she cried the night of the long program, they must have been tears of joy. Gold for Dorothy!
And how about the 1980 Olympics in Lake Placid? We watched with our first child inside of me. MIRACLE ON ICE! The only time I've ever been fascinated by ice hockey. And don't forget Eric Heiden and his five gold medals in speedskating. Man, that guy had some legs on him.
I have also enjoyed some men's figure skating. Scott Hamilton comes immediately to mind. He won gold in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, in 1984. How sad it is now to see the ruins of the Olympic sites there.
We also saw Scott skate in Stars on Ice, which our children were old enough to attend. He did his famous back flip, but I think the most exciting moment of the night came after all the stars were introduced and did their opening number.
The 1992 games in Albertville, France, had just been held.
The arena went dark.
I saw a young man on the ice through the darkness. His presence had not been announced, but I immediately knew who it was. I whispered to my son, "It's Paul Wylie."
And then Scott Hamilton introduced Paul and the crowd went wild.
Paul was a great favorite of ours who just never seemed to quite make it. He was a close but no cigar kind of skater. In fact, he had skated so poorly prior to the Olympics that some silly people questioned his presence on the team.
But we knew he could do it. Paul, we had faith in you. Paul went to Albertville and in a stunning upset won the silver medal. We were so proud.
Well, I could go on and on and maybe I will in another post, but that's enough reminiscing for today. Don't tell me who won medals last night. I record the games with my close personal friend DVR and then watch them the next evening so I don't have to put up with commercials.
I do have some questions though.
Why are most male figure skaters said to reach their peak at 25 - 26 years of age, while the "women" so often look like little kids barely out of diapers? Remember Tara Lipinsky?
And when in the hell are you people - and you know who you are - going to stop reminding Lindsey Jacobellis and the rest of the world that she ONLY won silver in snowboard cross during the 2006 games in Torino? Quitcher dumping on Lindsey.
Let
It
Go
And why is Bode Miller named Bode? Is it his real name? Is it a nickname? And if you are Bode's parents, what in hell led you to name him Bode?
Just curious.
Keep up the great work Canada.
Love,
Dumped First Wife
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