Beatitudes of Mine

Even though I've been on a hiatus, I haven't been uninspired. I finally realized that with my short term memory loss, I'd better put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard) or I will lose all such inspiration forevermore. I DID have the foresight to make notes occasionally, but forgot where I put them.

 I've decided that it's time for me to take inventory. My blessings are many and varied. I am forever appreciative, and know that these gifts deserve recognition. I can begin with my most recent reminder.

 I live in Michigan and we are in the middle of a heat wave. I love Michigan, but no one ever moves here for the climate. Our winters are usually long and brutal, our summers hot, hot, hot and humid. Springtime here is lovely, as it is everywhere, and autumn is glorious. 

Today, to accommodate my heat exhaustion, I cranked up the central air to 'Arctic.' I then donned sweater and socks, and reveled in my luxury. Conversely, in the midst of one of our seemingly endless winters, I push the heat up to 'Hell' and open the windows. I know this is ridiculous, but I am fortunate enough to have been blessed with a life that has afforded me such wasteful luxury. Summer or winter, I sleep enveloped in a lush, down comforter, well aware as I nestle in for the night that I am in the minority, and I know not why.

 I'm overweight. That means I have too MUCH to eat. Even at my advanced age, I still eat like an unsupervised six year old. I consider chocolate a staple,and yes, I eat it every day. If there is none in the pantry, there soon will be.

 I live in a beautiful condo, tastefully done and adorned with my collections, hobbies and keepsakes, to which I am continually adding. It is my sanctuary, not that I'm in need of one, per se, because my life is mostly stress free and definitely happy.

 I have a designer dog who eats better than people in third world countries. She is pampered and spoiled and greatly loved. In fact, as it is with most dogs and their owners, we have a mutual admiration society.

I've enjoyed wonderful vacations, here and abroad and my idea of camping is the Holiday Inn instead of the Ritz Carleton . I've feasted on lobster and caviar and the the best of the best. I love a hot dog as much as a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon.

 I am so blessed in knowing that I am loved and respected by family and friends. Their presence in my life is especially fortuitous and I don't know what I would do without them.

 So, when my time comes, and I enter heaven (and I will) the first thing I will ask my Maker is why. Why is there so much wealth in the world and the ratio so wrong? Why are there Trumps and sheiks and places like Dubai? Why are there homeless and lost and broken and sick? Where is the middle ground? Why didn't God practice socialism?

 Why me? Why did You bless me in this way, so perfectly, so sumptuously and some, not at all?

 I'm healthy and wealthy and not very wise.

Back (with a vengence)

I did it. I managed to keep quiet for two months. That's not to say I haven't been running a monologue in my head. I realize now that if I don't put it in writing I'll self destruct. Mission Impossible. I'm about to choke on my own words,I'm that angry.

 It's this: (Evidently, I'm old enough to be cantankerous, and no longer a good sport.) I saw a picture,one I was surely not meant to see, of a ten year old,who happens to be related to me. Somehow, this ten year old has a Facebook page. While it is marked "private," a profile picture is there for all the world to see. One in which this pretty little girl looks like a pedophile's dream.She is in full makeup,wearing a cobalt blue, sequined costume, in a provocative pose.

 Facebook, to which I am addicted, admittedly, has some guidelines, but who is there to police them? Members should be at least thirteen years old and have a 'friend' base of mostly relatives. I have two nephews,aged thirteen and sixteen, whom I know are being policed. Their pages are funny, informative and wholesome.

 The girls frighten me. These kids,not even 'tweens' yet are getting routine manicures, go to Justin Beiber concerts,see Taylor Swift, travel on their own and, seemingly, have skipped puberty altogether. REALLY ???? It scares me, it does. Can't we keep them children, and free from harm a little bit longer? Maybe not, since everybody's doin' it. Peer pressure rules the senses.

 There is a reality show called "Dance Moms" in which little girls, clearly being exploited by their mothers, are showcased in unbelievable costumes,'flesh toned' skin tight, sequined numbers, gyrating to sexually explicit lyrics. Seems to me their moms are living vicariously through them and are reinventing the attention whores they, themselves have become. Jon Benet? Doesn't anyone remember her? I saw her father recently on a talk show and he will never be able to kiss her goodnight again and completely regrets ever condoning her competitions.

 People, get a clue. It goes so fast, so quickly, please don't rush them. Remember Brownies and lemonade stands?

 Remember too, that you don't get a do-over.

Speechless, for Once...

I, for one, have never been at a loss for words. Until now.

This is, evidently, a good thing.  Facebook friends, including my own daughter, have 'hidden' me from their news feeds. Evidently, I am omnipresent, therefore, a nuisance. Granted, I certainly have time on my hands & my IPhone ever ready, so yes, I would say I update my status frequently, but so do others. I have regulars who, when they're offline, are missed. At least by me.

Perhaps I would be better on Twitter, or at least more welcome. Twitter, in my opinion, is vapid and banal. Updates there are so trivial that people are posting the color of their socks. Facebook, on the other hand, with it's capacity for  photos,links to interesting articles, music and games is much more resourseful. I'm an addict, I admit it.

Especially since retired, it makes me feel less out of the loop, so to speak. When you're out there in the working world, you're inundated with stimulae. While I hardly feel isolated, it's nice to have my finger on the pulse and Facebook does that for me.


I was given the gift of gab, but absolutely no sense of direction. I'm so chatty that my brother has a letter our mother sent him while he was in Viet Nam. I swear he keeps it to hold over my head. Mom's letters to him were always newsy, with a paragraph or two about each of us still at home. The one he loves to taunt me with says this : "Molly remains ebbuliant,to the point of nausea, and tedium."  (Thanks, Mom) Doesn't matter, I know she loved me (most of all, haha)


At any rate, as mentioned in a previous post, I'm running out of things to blog about. When I started this, almost a year ago, I vowed not to become like Andy Rooney (RIP) who made a great career out of kvetching. So far, I've written about things that matter to me, important things, trivial things and a modicum of complaints. My columns are getting more and more infrequent. Even I am getting bored with me.

So, until the next chapter of my life, the next great adventure, I'll be posting even less. Right now, the next big goal is to move overseas with my daughter and her family. I have been invited, they have goals for themselves and plans for me. BIG plans. I hope this comes to pass.

I'm grateful for the people who've followed this, and a little surprised. I've learned a lot about blogging, more than I ever thought was out there, in the blogosphere. I've loved it, I will continue to read my favorite bloggers and hope I get inspired.


For now, though, I'm at a loss for words.