Homeostasis- just another name for balance.

I’ve had a lot of responses to my article on death, most of them going to my e-mail rather than the comment section.

Most of them have been questions like- is this fiction? No
Are you kidding? No

And I've had a bunch of comments like this: I thought you were so healthy!
Well I am! If I wasn’t we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.
I know you are brain washed by the medical profession, but really guys, what do you think being healthy is?

Don’t kid yourself- You have 9 gazillion cells in your body ( actually, it's aprox. 70 trillion cells). It’s a very complex system. Do you think it’s always running perfectly in a ”healthy” person? Nope, it's not. At any moment there are dozens of things going wrong.

To begin with, Your cells are constantly dieing, and your body replaces them. In fact, 98% of the atoms in your body are replaced each year, the stomach lining replaces its cells every 15 minutes, the heart replaces its cells every 120 days and 8 million red blood cells are produced by the bone marrow every second.

Add to that the fact that invading bacteria and viruses are constantly replicating, and your cells are killing them in a never ending battle. Cells are mutating constantly and your body is destroying them. Your blood pressure and temperature are fluctuating and your system brings them back to normal. You add to much acid to your stomach, and your body neutralizes it. Your genetic code predisposes you to all kinda health problems, and , as you age, more genes are damaged. It never ends, something is always going wrong in your body.

IF your body is achieving balance or homeostasis, it does so because it’s healthy. A healthy body is one that takes cues from it's environment, adapts to stress (biological stress is called illness or injury), and returns to normal. If your body is healthy you do not need to add chemicals (drugs) to achieve this return to homeostasis.

At this point, my mind meandered on to artificial intelligence, and the similarities.

We started thinking of AI as a model of biological systems, but, because most people now days understand computers better than their own body, we can turn it around and look at the way biological systems (our bodies) are like AI.

AI was meant to be a “thinking machine”. It would be able to take a certain amount of information from it's memory and from the environment and calculate from there. This process meant that the AI would learn and grow on its own, and remain in balance.

Now, the thing is, it seems to me that AI is modeled not so much after the human mind, but after the body. The body is constantly taking information from the environment, processing it and making adaptations with in its self to achieve balance, or homeostasis.

If your body is healthy, it does this, even in the most stressful situations. With out the use of chemicals. Take the common cold for example. You have a response to invading bacteria that includes a fever, runny nose, coughing and sneezing. All of these symptoms are ways that the body fights bacteria. If you are healthy your body exhibits all these symptoms, overcomes the bacteria, then returns to normal in a day or two. Or, if you are not healthy, you have to dose yourself with lots of over the counter drugs, you suppress the symptoms, and it takes you forever to get well.

When I was in the hospital, I refused all drugs. My body had a serious malfunction, and it regained balance on its own. That’s what I call very healthy. Health doesn't mean never being sick. Health means being able to regain homeostasis, even after incredible stress, with out outside intervention.

Now, I'm going to take even better care ( more exercise, more rest) of my body, so it remains healthy. I hope you do the same, so when a serious malfunction in your biological system occurs, you are healthy enough to regain homeostasis, just like I did.

My brush with death, what death looks like, and why I don't think we should call him the grim reaper.

I recently had a brush with death. I don't know why they call it a brush with death, I don't think I brushed by him like you brush by others in a crowded store aisle. It felt more like I was a fish who happened to slide off death's line while he trying to reel me in.

I didn't exactly see the face of death, I mean, I was unconscious through most of it, except for a few times I surfaced and yes, it was like swimming up from a dark depth, just like they say on tv. Three times I surfaced long enough to think things like- what am I doing on the floor? What is that buzzing in my head? This must be a nightmare, but I don't remember going to bed. This can't be good. Oh no, what am I doing on the floor again? What is that buzzing in my head? I better call an ambulance, hope I can remember the number for 911. What is that buzzing noise? Damn, it happened again. I better call an ambulance. Oh, I'm in an ambulance, good idea.
So I didn't actually see the face of death but I'm pretty sure I felt his presence while I was laying on the floor. He was tip toeing around trying not to wake me.

At the hospital they figured I was a rather young ( and charming) cardiac case and they did all kinda scans and tests and what not and found nothing. So then they figured I was a head case and they did all kinda tests and scans and what not and found nothing. I had to wonder about their accuracy when they told me my brain was perfectly normal.

I let them them fish around for an answer for about a day and a half. I had to draw the line a couple of times. "No, you can't inject my blood stream with dye and send me through a tube with super magnets that make all the hydrogen atoms in my body spin on their axis. What? You want a better view of blood flow to my brain? Well, sweetie, you seem like a nice young doctor, why don't you just run down to the library and look up what all they did do to see brains better before they invented that MRI." ( answer: ultrasound of the carotid artries, non invasive, simple, and quite revealing). I figured they did the best they could and I checked myself outta there. I'm feeling fine now, I still don't have any answers, and I have to admit it got me thinking about death.

What happens when we die? Do we go somewhere? If we do, can we choose where we go? I'm just asking because I figure if we get to choose I want to go to my photo albums. I mean, think of it, that is where you have all your loved ones, your happy times, your wonderful vacations, every person and event you enjoyed enough to want to remember.

Do we just become nothingness? Return to the void? Sit at the right hand of God? Become one with all things? ( I thought we already were one with all things...) or is it just a blank?

Then I started thinking about the grim reaper. That's a name for death, right? "Death comes to get you". Well, if he's gonna escort me to my photo albums I don't think it's gonna be all that grim. Yes, I know it's really sad for those we leave behind, I know this because I've been left a few times, but grim? I've never seen what I would call a grim face at a wake. ( and why do they call it a wake? That's a whole 'nother article)I've seen sad, and tired, and distraught, and calm and pained and radiant and even cheerful but not grim. So I'm thinking it's a misnomer and theres gotta be a better name for the grim reaper.

Then I saw death. It came to me in a flash, a vision really. And to me, death looked just like a rodeo trick rider.

I swear I saw death ride up from behind me on a huge brown horse. Hooves thundering and kicking up clods of dirt, mane flapping, nostrils flaring, death's horse came at me like the devil himself was chasing it down. Death rode like a expert. He was dressed in faded jeans and leather chaps and worn, dusty cowboy boots with silver spurs shining. Death had on a denim shirt and a buckskin vest, a bandanna at his neck and big leather gloves reaching almost to his elbows, with fringe swaying up the sides. Death had long hair tied in a pony tail and a real fine brown suede cowboy hat. No, I didn't see his face.

Death and his horse came thundering up behind me and death let go the reins and slid off the saddle so he was hanging on just one side of that horse. His weight was balanced on one stirrup, his other leg gripping the horse and saddle. Both arms were out stretched and as he passed I held up a hand and he reached out and grabbed me by the hand and around the waist and flung me right up on the back of that big horse without slowing down one bit. A warm, dry wind was flowing through my hair and I put an arm around death and looked up to take in the brilliant sunset we were heading into. I was thinking this is gonna be fun.

So maybe the grim reaper should be called "Billy Bob" or "Tex", or "Alabama Slim", or "Ol dog eyed Joe" or some other fine cowboy name. "yep, siree 'Ol Bobby Sue come and took grandmammy home last night". See, doesn't that sound better? And maybe we could leave out piles of oats for death's horse like we leave straw for santa's reindeer....ok, now you think I'm crazy...but really....

Now, I'm not sure when that 'ol cowboy is gonna show up, but I'm not worried about it and I'm certainly not afraid. I've always liked cowboys, and that whole riding like the wind, get along little doggies, where the deer and the antelope play thing, and if my vision has shown me who's gonna escort me to the afterlife, I'm sure it will be a really fine ride.

TGIT?

I don't know about ya'll, but I'm having a long week. I woke up this morning wondering what day it was and felt a tiny bit of relief that it was only a couple days 'till the weekend.

This is pretty unusual for me, generally I don't even think about things like when do I get to sleep late and lay on the couch with a good book for a couple hours, but hey, like I said I'm having a long week.

Now, I know everybody has a long week now and then. And so do entrepreneurs. Contrary to popular belief, we actually do work and we have challenges at our jobs just like some one who punches a clock. Unfortunately (or fortunately- it's hard to tell sometimes) we have absolutely no one to blame it on except ourselves. I can't whine about the boss who asks for to much, or the enormous amount of overtime I'm putting in or the nasally co-worker who keeps interrupting me or the fact that the network isn't cooperating. Nope. It's just me. And when I'm having a long week, it's because I am asking myself to achieve more than normal in a 4 day work week. ( yes, I said 4 day- see why I was saying earlier unfortunately or fortunately- it's hard to tell sometimes).

Anyway, when I woke up and was wondering what day it was I had this picture in my head of splashing around in shark infested, choppy seas and coming upon a life preserver. I grabbed that life preserver and started tugging on the line and as I did I pulled myself right up to the weekend- and I flung myself off the life preserver and onto a sandy beach. Palm trees and gentle waves and sunshine and all that. whew! Made it.

That made me think of this song "Some Beach". I found the video for ya, just in case you are having a long week too, you can take a tiny break and enjoy this:

http://www.cmt.com/videos/blake-shelton/33798/some-beach.jhtml

there, don't you feel better now?

OK, enjoy the rest of your week and I still am working on that "next post" about my brush with death, so check back in a day or two.

Carrie didn't appear to be working hard...

Whew, who would have thought blogging was such hard work! I Guess writing is like anything else, it takes practice and I am thinking that like anything else, the more you do it the faster you get.

So far, my average time for posting a article is 2 hours. Yes, two hours, not including the percolating time when the little goober is rolling around in my mind being formed.

Now, part of the challenge is , like I told ya before, taking 38 pages of notes and condensing it into something readers can read between the time your boss heads to the restroom or coffee bar to the time your boss trails back into the room and ya gotta get back to work.

Another part of the challenge is my typing. Yes, I type approximately one-half a word a minute. I'm not a two fingered typist, I'm more like a one thumb and four fingers typist. I envy people like my little sister who types about 6000 words a minute. She's so fast you don't even see her fingers when she types, they are just a blur. There is no way I can IM with her, she just ends up on the floor in fits of laughter wondering what I'm trying to say one syllable per screen.

I'm not that good at it because I haven't spent that much time typing, which leads us to the other part of this challenge - I'm spending a lot more time at the computer and I think I'm developing typist's elbow and mouser's shoulder and blogger's butt. Don't laugh! I'm not used to sitting at the computer this much- my butt is achy!

Then there is the whole editing thing, where I gotta go back and correct the spelling and insert jucier words and change the order of sentences and rewrite that whole paragraph and that takes some time. Besides the fact that I don't want to post a bunch of stuff that doesn't make you want to visit this blog again. I want to post stuff that makes you think, smile, re-read and comment. I want you to be glad you took a few minutes of your bosses time to take a peek.

So, I wish I was like the mythical Carrie Bradshaw. In one hours time she could shop for shoes, share revelations with her girlfriends over a meal, change clothes about 30 times, have time for coffee, hit some cool nightclub, drink 27 cosmopolitans, smoke a full pack of cigarettes, talk to Mr. Big on the phone, have a date with some new guy she just met, and write an incredible article for her paper and actually make the deadline! Now, we never really got to read any of her articles, but I'm assumimg they were incredible or why would they put her picture on the side of that bus?

I'm not there yet, but I've heard that practice makes perfect, so I'm gonna keep practicing. I've actually started making drafts ( that's an article in it's embryonic stage) and saving them so I'm ahead an article or two. Then I can take a second or third read, and make sure they are mighty fine before I post.

Thanks for reading, and check back in a couple days, I've got a story about my brush with death just about ready to post.

Four Pawed Purring Turban

I think there are two types of people in the world, those who love cats and those who don't.

Just like there are two kinds of people when it comes to living in the southwest desert. there are those who arrive, are enchanted ( the light, the vastness, the colors!) and vow to never leave; and those who arrive, start to whine (there's no green, it's to hot, it's to dry, my wood furniture is cracking , I miss the rain, I found a 5 inch poisonous millipede in my bathtub. whine!) and can't wait for the economy to pick up "back east" so they can go home.
But I confess, I digress.

If you are one of those who have not yet been enchanted by cats, let me clue you in. Research shows cats heal! Yes, hallelujah, praise the lord and be healed.

Apparently someone asked these questions- why do cats ( from the big wild cats to the smallest domestic) purr when they are sick and injured? Aren't they only supposed to do this when content and relaxed? And then they set about figuring out why.
You can read the whole story here:

http://www.animalvoice.com/catpurrP.htm

In a nutshell folks it says that the frequency of a cats purr aids in tissue healing and increases lung function. This is not really that far out, I mean , for years the medical profession has been using electrical frequency to repair and build bone cells.

So the researchers took it one step further and asked, if the purr helps heal the cats injuries, can it heal someone who hears the cat purr? The answer? Yes. So now you can buy a CD with the sound of a cat purring to listen to when you are sick or injured. Personally I would rather have my very own cat purring in my ear.

I was thinking of this as I lay in bed and listened to the cat who was wrapped around my head. Now, if you are a cat person you know it's not unusual to find a cat wrapped around your head. In fact, for years it was thought that a cat could steal your dreams by wrapping around your head, but I haven't found that to be true. Maybe it just allows them to listen in.

If you are not a cat person, it might seem a little odd to wake with a four pawed purring turban, but believe me it's worth every nip on the nose, lick on the eyeball and little paw in the ear. I've got no problem with picking a cat hair outta my eye lashes now and then, or waking up and finding my pillow is under the cat instead of my head. It's worth it to awake to the healing purr of a cat.

I always take a moment to just press my ear against him and listen. I let my mind find the vibrational frequency and my breath find the rhythm of his purr. I may not be sick or injured, but hey, a little healing vibe can't hurt, and it's a relaxing and comforting way to start the day.

So I was thinking, isn't this a really good, scientifically proven example of the way nature heals? Maybe those feline worshiping Egyptians were right after all, maybe cats do have incredible powers we haven't fully realized.

Even if you are not hep to the new age lingo and theories of energy and chakras and all that, I'm sure you have heard at least a whisper of what the new quantum physics tells us about this energy field we live in. There is energy all around us, and everything is connected, right? And maybe nature was designed or evolved to give us everything we need. We just have to listen.

My own good advice for writers part 2

I woke up this morning with a article on my mind ( or should I say sitting on my head, but more about that in the next post).

Before I even had a cup 'o joe I was scribbling in a note book. On and On and On it flowed, like a huge river, meandering all over. Branches going this way and that, here and there. Some branches of the river became torrents with whitewater and whirl pools and an twisty turning run to the sea. Other branches of the river ran slow and steady over varied terrain and eventually became small streams meandering to and fro and then little trickles that lost their way in a dead end.

(It was kinda like Bogart and Hepburn and the African Queen, "where the hell- sorry sister- is that passage".)

All these thoughts are part of the story and they all illustrate concepts that are important and entertaining and this leads to that and twenty seven pages later...
If you have ever seen me speak in public, you know I can go on and on and on. Apparently I can do so when I write as well.

For me writing is not so much about what to write as it is deciding what not to write. Staying close to the true story is the hard part.

so, my advice for writers part two:
1. let it all out.
2. now focus on the true story and decide what not to write.
3. keep the scraps for later, you never know when they might add to a torrent in the making.

The Middle Way

In the Buddhist philosophy, they talk about the Middle Way. My interpretation of this concept is that if you are to lax, or to overzealous in your efforts to reach enlightenment you will never get there. The middle way is the way of balance.

In life I think we are all seeking balance whether we know it or not.

In my life, it's quite apparent on Wednesdays, when I set aside my afternoon to hang out with my sister. She is developmentally disabled, (she wonders who thought of that "PC" label which she and most of her friends can't even say), and bowls on an ARC league. We get together early in the day and go to lunch, hang out, then go to bowling.

By Wednesday,I'm caught up in "Busy". I'm an entrepreneur. This means I'm the boss, office staff, accountant, marketing department, sales force and custodial staff for my own business. I'm a doctor and as much as it may suprise most people, a doctor's office is a business. So on top of the aforementioned, I also have patient management and paperwork. Now add in the stressors that we all have like relationships, finances, home maintenance etc. etc. etc. and I'm certainly in need of some balance.

When Wednesday comes I try to put aside my "stuff", and be in the moment. My goal is to focus on my sister and have a fun, stress free afternoon so she's relaxed and ready to bowl.

Yesterday I found myself challenged to put aside the "stuff". I know you all know what I mean. When you are consciously trying to be in the moment yet your mind meanders all over the place, here and there, pointing out challenges ahead or flaws in your planning or what you forgot to do yesterday.

My sister is very smart and perceptive, and about the third time the car got really quiet and I realized she was looking at me waiting for a response to something I didn't even hear, she asked me what was up.
"Just stuff on my mind"
"that's OK, sometimes I got stuff on my mind too"
"everybody has stuff on their minds sometimes"
"Yep, you are not smiling"
"well, let's do something fun to take my mind off my stuff"
"Like What?"

We went to the arcade and I taught my sister to play air hockey.
Once she got the hang of it we giggled and squealed our way right into the moment. We were present. We were one with the game and the "stuff" was gone.

When my sister started her bowling later that afternoon, she started off strong with a 9, a 9, and a spare. Then she threw a few that were off.
One to the right, one to the left, I said
"hey, you are supposed to throw it down the middle"
She replied with
"I'm having trouble finding the middle"

I know exactly what she means.

Oh My!

I was just logging on to write my next post, a bit about balance, when I found that another comment had been posted to my last entry. I just get all happy when I find another comment. It's like opening a box of cracker jacks and digging for the prize inside. What could it be? It's fun!

It's also nice to see that I have written something that made enough of an impression on someone that they took the time to put in their two cents.

So I clicked on the comment section and found...Oh My! Well, lets just say it wasn't X rated, but it wasn't G rated either.

I have a couple of suspects in mind, people that I know love to tell a joke and they are very talented in that way. I'm sure ( because spending to much time in a pool hall warps you a little, and I know because I've spent many a hour there myself and I will tell you all about that someday), they didn't stop to think that my audience might includes all ages. And I do mean all ages. I'm not so concerned about the grandparents, aunties,and uncles but I am concerned for my neices,nephews, and their children who check in with "weird old aunt meandering".

So, I deleted the comment and enabled the thingie that lets me read comments before they are published. It's not as much fun because you, the comment-ors will not see your words published instantly, but it will help protect the innocent and I will publish your comment next time I log on, as long as it's rated G.

And ____________, I know you got a million of 'em, and at least 20% are rated G. Thanks for reading and thanks for leaving comments, and next time I see ya, be ready to "rack em"

Set those chickens free!

A few days ago as we were wrapping things up at the office after a grueling day, I asked my dear friend who happens to be the massage therapist, if she was all done and she said something about yes, she was set free.

Well, I don't think anyone really knows why our neurons work the way they do, and memory is a tricky thing, all tied up with olfactory neurons and coded chemicals and a little guy with a bunch of file cabinets inside my head trying to find just what I'm looking for - but just like the proverbial flashback, as soon as she said - it the chicken song popped into my head.

I can't say for sure the origin of the chicken song, but I think it was first published in a mad magazine complete with comic drawings of some wild lookin' hippie guy and a bunch of scraggly chickens and had a introduction that said "sung to the tune of_______________". My little guy is looking, but hasn't yet found the correct file cabinet drawer from which to pull the name of the tune.

I was born down south on a chicken farm in Nashville Tennessee
Weren't nobody there but a sky full of air, 17 billion chickens and me

and much to my delight and surprise, my friend joined in-

Well then one day I said Hey Hey Hey , think I'll drop a little LSD
well it blew my mind and I got real kind and I set those chickens free...

How incredible! She remembers the chicken song! I didn't dream it, I couldn't have imagined it, she knows the chicken song!

There were chickens in the kitchen, chickens in the barn, chickens in the califlower, chickens in the corn-( ok, I think there were more chickens here and there but our memories were not quite complete- so if you know the chicken song, fill in the blanks) there were chickens driving Cadillacs to Washington Deeee Ceeeee, when I set my chickens free!

By that time we were standing in the middle of the office, arm in arm, taking a bow with a flourish.

"My God, I can't believe anyone else remembers the chicken song" I say, astonished and joyful and lighter than I had been all day, because that little bit of singing restored my balance.

" Your sister taught me that song" she said.

And in that moment I knew it was all true, you know, what they say about "what goes around comes around", and "what you give, you get" and " it all comes back to you in the end" because years ago I had taught my younger brother and sisters the chicken song. We had laughed and pantomimed and practiced and giggled 'till we knew the whole thing, and here it was years later coming right back to me. All that laughter and joy was returned to me on a day when it was just what I needed.

Why I love disaster films!

I love disaster films.

Give me a huge meteorite headed straight for earth, or any one word related to nature titled film-
Volcano!
Tsunami!
Earthquake!
Hurricane!
Tornados!
Comet!
Blizzard!
Artic Ice Storm!
(OK, yes, I made the last one up, just because of where I’m living right now…)

And giant mutant lizards and never before seen aberrations of nature sized monkeys and living dinosaurs either forgotten by time or created in the lab from DNA found in the blood of a mosquito stuck in amber a few eons ago.

I’ll take anything from some unknown planet, from some far reach of the galaxy, with some unknown intent and design for human kind from “To Serve Man” (It’s a cookbook!) to Alien (Does it always drool like that or just when it’s about to eat?) as long as there is not an overabundance of blood and gore.

You can keep the wild eyed slashers, the limb chewing, hazy eyed zombies and the demons that make the walls bleed. I’m not looking for a gross fest, just a nail biting, blanket tunneling, small jump with a little shriek good time.

Because honestly, nothing makes my life seem as quiet, easy and sane as watching a disaster film. I mean, hey, my life is perfectly fine, at least I’m not stuck in the back of an overturned truck with a T-rex trying to nuzzle it’s way through the window.

And yes, it may be snowing but the sun has not, I repeat, has not imploded and the entire world has not frozen solid in a matter of seconds, and we do not have to live in tunnels to avoid freezing.

I mean, how can I possibly be concerned about the infintesimal problems in my life when I’ve just survived the War of the Worlds or Armageddon?

Problems?
Yes.
Prozac?
No thanks, just give me a handful of disaster films and a few hours to watch them and I will be just fine.

My Own Good Advice for Writers

If I had a "do over", I would "do over" that last posting and change the last two paragraphs. Oh, wait, maybe I can do that!

Hey, I learned that you should never answer the phone when you are writing because then you allow the world to come rushing in and when that happens, at least for me, all h-e- double hockey sticks breaks loose and I find myself rushing to finish up the writing and get on to "my life because there are so many things I have to get done today"! Yikes!

Ok, that was a good lesson, don't answer the phone.

Now, I also have found that I am just spewing musings all over the place, like the dam just broke, I'm meandering all over the place, and at an accelerated rate as if years worth of musings are surfacing all fighting for a chance to be heard.

This has resulted in a instillation of approximately 87 hundred postie notes hanging from just about every surface in my home. It could be misconstrued as some ( now I need a french dictionary as well- I just happen to have one) avant garde work of art with a hidden meaning, but it's not, it's just a mess.

So I found my mini recorder ( which I used when I was writing my first book ) to help me keep notes because I just can't carry this desktop with me everywhere I go, and even if I could, when I meander into a musing that needs to be heard I really can't wait for the darn thing to boot-up. I need instant relief and a quick way to note my musings. Lesson 2- a quick convenient way to keep notes is essential.

Lesson 3- a real biggie- I can concentrate better on my writing when I don't have something else I would like to do- I didn't say need to do - I said like to do, on my mind. Right now I have Jessie's painting on my mind, the light today is perfect for working on this painting I am doing for my niece.

To highlight what I learned: when writing
1. don't answer the phone
2. use a tape recorder to keep notes
3. if you want to do something else first, do it.

So I will get back with you all tonight, when the light isn't fabulous for painting.

Do over! Do over!

I ended my first post with the question- If life is a test why aren't we born with a lifetime supply of #2 pencils? And true to form, Mike came up with the perfect witty reply ( with the very first comment to my very first post on my very first blog- thank you Mike) something like- forget the pencils, I need erasers!

Then Camille said she thought Mike had said it all, there was no need for her to comment and I thought - what if we could have "do overs" in real life?

Remember when you were a kid, trying to do something and if you messed up all you had to do was yell "Do Over!" and you got another chance?

You know what I mean, right? Like when you are learning a really complicated pool shot and you miss and your practice partner says "do over, try again", and they set the shot back up, just like the first one never happened and you shoot that one shot over and over until you get it right because this is something you need to be able to do flawlessly if you want to win the game.

Just think- How many times in your life would a do over come in handy? I can think of a couple times I've said things that would have been better left unsaid- a "do over" would have been handy at those times.

I could have used a "do over" the day I decided to go to the top of the mountain when all I had skied was the bunny hill- honestly, it just didn't look that BIG from the bottom! In case you don't ski, the rule is what goes up, must come down- one way or another - and in my case it was head over heels all the way down the mountain, realistically I would say I actually skied a total of 5 foot of a 2 mile run.

"Do overs" would be nice when you get into the rhythm of your chosen career and find its waltzing when you want to be jitterbugging. Not uncommon I think, It's not necessarily "bad" it's just not fantastic! If you had a "do over" on your career- what would you do? Me? I would go to the University of Hawaii, become a marine biologist and study sea turtles.

I can think of a few times I could have used a "do over" in my personal relationships. The hurtful words that could have been erased, the thoughtless action I could have un-done, The help I could have offered when asked by someone who really needed help.

I wonder, by visualizing the times when I could have used a "do over", can I learn something that would help me the next time the situation occurs? I think so.

Even though we think we don't have "do overs" in real life, maybe we do. Maybe we really can shoot that one shot over and over until we get it right because this is something we need to be able to do flawlessly if we want to win the game of life.

Sisters,sisters, there were never more devoted sisters...

In the holiday classic "White Christmas" Bing and Danny dress up as sisters and sing the devoted sisters song. When we were kids, my sisters and I had to get up and perform the number right along with them and even today we sometimes break into a random verse of the chorus of that song.

Today is my sister Jena's birthday, so today I'm going to tell you how lucky I am to have sisters.

I don't know how I would get along with out them. There are four of "us girls" in my immediate family and I can guarantee you that "you don't want to mess with us girls". My sisters are strong, confident, independent and beautiful. They are "go to girls", if anybody needs a problem solved, a crisis diverted or a helping hand with something my sisters are there. They are like female versions of McGuyver. Remember him? Put him in a jungle with a roll of tape, a butter knife and a q-tip and he could build a resort.

Now over the years, yes indeed we have had our personality clashes, because although we all come from the same background we are all very different ( nature vs nurture playing out before our very eyes) and, as my brother-in-law would say " each one of us is always right".

But over the years it's also been proven over and over that I never have to wonder if my sisters are going to be there for me- it's a given. They've got my back no matter what, and I've got theirs. We can function very well as a pack, banding together as one, and we each fly solo equally well.

If I feel there is something missing in me at the moment, I know it's present in one of them and all I have to do is call and ask to borrow it. Be it knowledge, strength, warmth, understanding, joy, laughter or love, one of my sisters has what I need at the moment, and I'm confident that when she calls me searching for something she has temporarily misplaced in her heart and mind, I'm gonna have it right here at my fingertips, and be able to pay her back because that is just the way "us girls" are.

Was that me that said that?

Yesterdays post contains a blatant error, and I do take full responsibility. I am responsible for not drinking enough coffee to wake me up before I started posting.

Did you catch it? I bet my Mensa certified friends did...planet earth is in our solar system, perched on the edge of the galaxy on the same side as the milky way. The milky way is in fact our view of the spiral arm of the galaxy as it stretches out to space.

Does that photo make anyone feel little, tiny, small?

What's in a profile?

OK, here I am going into day two and with only a half a cup 'o joe in me I'm treading precariously.

I've found one necessity for blogging already- a dictionary. I have mine, my old faithful right here on the desk where it lives. Pages yellowed and tattered and the book torn in half from overuse- the first half ends on page 444 at incense and the second half begins on page 447 at incorrigible and heaven help me if I need some word in between.

I've never been great at spelling, I recall hours as a child doing homework that consisted of writing missed spelling words over and over (as if that repetition would teach me how to put sounds and letters together in my mind so I would spell correctly) and we all know how these wonderful handy spell checkers are- really wonderful and handy but not always correct.

I was recently thinking about getting a new dictionary, I mean this one is pretty beat and probably outdated as it's almost thirty years old , and we all know how much the language has changed in thirty years-mouse,server,virus,cell,blog...- but then I look at it and I know which half to pick up when I'm looking for a word that begins with "s" like sanctuary, or a word that begins with "g" like grace.

The pages a soft, now feeling more like cloth than paper, and now and then I come across a word I've underlined somewhere in the past. A word that, for what ever reason, resonated with me on that day long ago, and, when I see that underlined word again, I spend a moment or two contemplating... illuminate. faith. enrich. doer. creed. manifest. abundance.
joy. health. illusion. courage. balance. connection. circle. energy. growth. spirited. realize. conscious. wake. ascend.
Think I will just keep this old dictionary a while longer.

Now back to the topic at hand- what's in a profile?

So, here I am, all giddy because I figured out how to add a photo to my page and links to my favorite web sites. Ahead looms the real task though- creating a profile. I mean, it's like writing a resume or a personal ad or an epitaph. Space is limited, and you certainly want to make a good impression. So how would you describe yourself with just a few words?

If my profile describes not just me, but me in relation to the world what would it say...woman, daughter, sister, aunt,friend? Doctor,artist,teacher, writer? Yankee,Texan,New Mexican,American, Human, resident of a small planet on the far edge of one spiral arm of the galaxy on the side opposite the milky way?
You can see what I mean. And I thought figuring out what to write about would be the challenge.

Peace be with you.

Like a drunken monkey on a rope...

A friend once told me her mind was like a drunken monkey on a rope, always in movement,jumping here and there, swaying and chattering.
I can relate to that.

As the water of a still pond on a windless night, reflecting the full moon... well, that is how I would like my mind to be and as much as I try, my mind still meanders. Sometimes I'm meandering to the past, sometimes to the future and sometimes just to ideas and visions from my inner self.

It's possible that a still mind is the ideal and something worth striving for, however, I do find that the musings of my meandering mind at times can lead me to some pretty interesting stuff, and that is what I want to share with you.

Like this...is it possible that all the original thoughts are already taken? I bring this up because over the past few weeks I've been contemplating my jump into blogdom and I came up with just the most original fantastic just perfect name for my blog- Musings of a meandering mind. It's perfect, it's just what I want to say, it has a nice rhythm, it reads well and it's...TAKEN! When I went to set up my blog, this title was not available.

Of course I meandered over to the blog that already has this name. It's worth a peak. Then I went back to the blog create site and tried again. It's a tiny change I know, not much really , but it still amazes me how truly original you have to be to be original!

OK folks, I'm about to click on publish post...for the very first time.
My intent is to post at least 3 times a week, and in doing so I hope to entertain, enlighten and amuse you. And hey, maybe all this writing will help me meander my way to that book contract I've been wanting. Talk soon, xoxoxo

ps if life is a test, why weren't we each born with a lifetime supply of #2 pencils?