Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Boys in Red Cars

When I am off on a car journey by myself, I admit, it catapults me into a wondrous world, where I am glamorous, gorgeous and incredibly confident. My Kia becomes the universe where I know exactly the right thing to say at the right time. Where I can sing like Maria Carey and all my ambitions have occurred.

Recently I have been acting out my "Majorca" screenplay when driving, and during today's trip I found the perfect end clip. The final joke that completes the theme running throughout the movie. The bit that has people telling others to watch till the credits end. As I'm thinking this piece up, I'm aware of a sporty little red car overtaking me. A few moments later and now I find myself overtaking the same car. This happens twice.

Call me a daft old bat, because I think - well the handsome driver has seen me and we have a car flirtation going on. These occurred many times during my London Best Friend Brenda days - where boldness was as thick as our mascara and adventures were always found in a traffic jam.

So I'm loving that this reminder of my femininity has appeared and I continue acting out the movie scene with fevered determination. The clip involves a gimmick about David Bowie's perfect song "Suffragette City". If your male passenger joins in with the famous phrase toward the end of the song - the theory is; that if so desired, you will get blissfully and favorably laid by him.

I had the notion that I, the writer, would appear driving with Mr.Clooney, of course, who does indeed, enthusiastically join in with the song. I turn toward the camera with a look that says "I've won the lottery, the eagles will be landing and baptize me Jesus, this will be The Second Coming!"

Naturally, I replay and rehearse a couple of times, finally deciding to let out an orgasmic cheer. Just as I fling my head, I am aware of the red sports car driving up on my left again and I know the passenger is looking at me. I know it!
I decide to face them boldly, showing a woman who always gets excited with her own driving skills.
Yes, he's staring right at me. It's a bulldog. A white and brown bulldog, whose wrinkled expression I swear says; "Yeah right Mrs!"

Ahhh reality.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas

Sending warmest love and joy to all today.
Lets forget all the laws of what may be and enjoy what it is.
For those of us fortunate to have what we need
Surely that is all we truly want.

Lots of love to friends, pets and family.
Jayne xx

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

In search of Jimmy Tarbuck

You know when people claim to see Jesus on their carpet stain and believe it's a message? Well tonight, I found a strength while thinking about Jimmy Tarbuck. Hence my new empowered thought - The Jimmy Tarbuck Theory.

For those in the USA, Mister Tarbuck OBE is a popular British comedian. For those in the UK - well you know who Tarby is. So here is the journey to my theory and like all stories it has two paths.

One begins in London on a Sunday afternoon when I am traveling with my brother, his wife and two handsome male singers in the back of a tour bus for the brilliant tribute show - Want U Back -!gigs

David and Michelle had arranged a surprise for me. I knew we were driving to a theater to see a show, I didn't know which show and the choices are interesting considering it's a Sunday. I had read that Jimmy Tarbuck had a show in town and I hoped and declared that it wasn't to see him. NOW of course if anyone connected to the Tarbuck Foundation is reading (ha!) my blog is pure fiction. If not, you all know it's true. He's great, just not desired viewing for a girl looking for a thrill.

Fat story short, that includes a banana, a quick clothing change, a parking ticket and Mary Poppins, we end up at The London Palladium to see Michael Crawford in The Wizard of Oz. For me to be at The London Palladium is a major trip into pure bliss. It will always remain my favorite theater for many reasons starting from when I was a showgirl little girl with ambitions.
Anyway, in the lobby with a bag of  'white wine crisps' (yes you read that correctly) and a sighting of George from George & Mildred, an old British TV show, we find a poster of Jimmy Tarbuck. Everything connects in that glorious moment and I am standing with happiness. I love it.

The second path to my Tarbuck theory is the miserable Jayne who today is incredibly angry. I am bitter enough for lemons to go on strike. When I'm in that mood, my voice sounds like a cockney Popeye on a swearing marathon. Then the anger gets worn out and changes into Super Sad - the heaviness with a cape of depression that can freeze an expression and bring sarcasm to a birth and or wedding.

So I'm sitting in my Super Anti Hero costume, putting together a puzzle (hey, don't judge - its Christmas!)
When I wonder; "when did I last feel I was in the right place?"  London - Jimmy Tarbuck poster, Palladium Theater. And Bang! The simplicity and power in that memory hits me. During that time I was being happy because of something I had created and right now, I was being sad because of something someone else had created.
Their way of living, not good or bad, has nothing to do with my way of living. I make my choices for what I believe to be right and how I react is not how others react. In this particular "can not be named" scenario, nothing is the right or wrong way, it's just different.

My theory is more than just the realization that we control only our own responses.  It is also far more than just choosing to say you are happy. It is the courage to accept everything you feel. It's the strength to accept the difference, to embrace it, learn from it and answer back with action that demonstrates your pride and integrity. Not to others. Fuck others. Demonstrate it for and to yourself.

Now the hard part: to move on. In little steps or huge mountain strides, leave the sadness alone, because those who caused it are now meddling in another kitchen. They are blind to what you do. You're not.

I am sick of living my life in response to other peoples actions. Well, truth is, I never realized that's what I've been doing for forty five years. It only came to me tonight, thinking back to the moment with the poster.

Jimmy Tarbuck is known for having a gap between his front teeth. The gap between happiness and sadness is small and it takes a brave spirit to jump from one to the other. Some may need to build a bridge, some will dwell on the gap, while others make it a feature. Like Jimmy Tarbuck does and I like that about him! Thanks Tarby.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Breaking News

I have just heard on the news that they predict a shortage of chocolate in eight years time.
So in 2019 you may pay $20 for an Almond Joy, if you are lucky!
Can you imagine a shortage of chocolate?
They might ban Easter.
People will set up their own cocoa brewery in their basements and sell bars illegally.
You'll see code words on Bodybook (Facebook is bound to be upgraded by then) People will be selling batches of dark chocolate in exchange for a car or a small child perhaps.
Addicts will meet in back yards and suck quietly on a Hershey's (marijuana will be legal by then.)
"Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" may become the new bible and we will celebrate The Savior Wonka and his three wise oompa lumpas every December. you think I'm paying too much attention?

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Seasonal Tree

I love December and all the celebrations it brings. Including bright shiny things, cozy wearables and lots of cake.
Every year I have the ambition to have the perfect tree.

Life was good to me, in that it eventually gave me, a man who religiously swings both ways and who loves a REAL tree. Not that there is anything wrong with an artificial tree. I grew up with a magnificent one, that would suddenly appear overnight beautifully decorated by Dad. The living room ceiling would be home to dangling stars and Chinese lanterns in gold and silver foil, remember those? I would make the paper chains and we had those crinkled paper wreaths that were flat, until you unfolded the sides open and clipped them together.

This Saturday was the day Dearest Husband and I chose the tree, quickly named The Clooney Fir.  Following the sixty minute strategic operation that was bringing the tree inside, I calm down with a cup of tea, light pine candles and put music on. (Funny to note, that I light pine scented candles when I have pine tree!) One wishes to create the bright happy atmosphere that decorating a tree deserves. We'd eat popcorn if we had any and wear red Santa hats.  Jolly, jolly, jolly.

So, why do I turn into the girl from the exorcist over baubles and lights? Honestly, if Martha Stewart met Silence of the Lambs guy and had Kathy Bates in Misery as a baby and called them Chucky - they would be more pleasant than me!

"No, I want more lights on it!" I am foaming at one moment. "Yes, we always have a thing on the top - and no, it's not a religious Saint, she's just a bleedin' angel and I can see her price tag so I have to get up that bleedin ladder again!" For those that know me, bleedin' was perhaps a different word and getting up a ladder is like inviting a squirrel to cross the highway wearing a blindfold.

While up the ladder, Dearest Husband is holding onto me so tightly that he is actually pulling me over and I can see the ladder beginning to tip. I reach out to balance myself by holding onto the tree, which is always a bright idea, to get stable by clutching onto something that is not stable!!!

Nothing fell, all was safe, though it did not sound like it and the non religious angel is ashamed of me.
I'm ashamed of me! Honestly, who on earth, North Pole and in Massachusetts am I trying to please with the perfect tree? Does it really matter that I have two red baubles next to one another and that I can't get the tiny bulb to shine on the golden doves wings? Should I really feel guilty about not using the ice skating polar bears I bought last year, simply because the colors do not match "this years theme?"
AND, I will let you know, there's no "back of the tree so it doesn't matter" because The Clooney Fir is placed in the window! Get me, all posh and making a seasonal statement.

Dear Santa - please bring this woman Valium before she tries to decorate the Menorah.

Sunday, December 4, 2011


On Friday night I discovered a brand new experience that I have wondered and pondered about for a few years. In fact, I feel kind of embarrassed to admit that I have never tried before, despite being tempted many a time. I've seen people do it, I've been encouraged to do it and now I've done it and I can see why people get addicted.
Throwing all caution slowly into the air with a puff of smoke, I advise you to get to your local Shaws supermarket. This is my dealer.
They are running the Wish Big Win Big holiday giveaway. Which basically is a beginners introduction to voucher land. The more grocery shopping you do, the more tickets you receive.
Previously in my shopping world I have dabbled with the odd dollar off from sparkling water and the buy ten for five cat food. For the most part however, vouchers are the things I discover at the bottom of my bag along with dust, one paperclip and two discolored mints.

Friday night, after reading the game rules, I was pretty excited to get stuck into my pile of tiny voucher tickets.
For a few weeks now I have had an itchy palm when visiting Shaws, which I am putting down to the fact that I am going to win something. An itchy palm means you are coming into money. It does not mean you should sanitize the trolley handles I promise.

With the opening of each one I felt a positive surge and I swear I heard Liza Minnelli singing "Maybe this time, I'll be lucky."
Until 2am, I opened those tickets.I didn't care that I had too many canned peaches and not enough green beans. I just knew the possibility of the next ticket.I now only need a Hostess DoNut ticket to win a $250 gift card and just one Gingerbread Gingerman to win $25,000 for a car.

It is the big prize I play for. The ultimate, exclusive high that I believe will be mine. The $250,000!  And yes, though I still need turkey stuffing, jello, creme cheese and mozzerella, my palm itches with a guaranteed anticipation.
I can't wait to get back to Shaws to be awarded with more of those tasty tickets of joy. I know what Friday nights are made for!
AND, when I win, I will stop. I will. I know I can stop, I know I can. It's not a problem. It's just for now.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

London Shopping

Christmas shopping is well & truly under way in London. Their halls are decked and Father Christmas
is already yawning. I have loved wandering around and here are ten things that are different in London compared to Massachusetts:

1) Marks and Spencers - a store where you can buy a great pair socks, a great pair of trousers and a great stuffed chicken
2) Cherry Bakewells
3) Digestive Biscuits - chocolate coated cookies
4) Celebrity, get me out of the Jungle  - funny TV show where celebrities are forced to face spiders, snakes and things that make cockroaches look pretty
5) Bluewater & Lakeside Shopping Centers - funnily enough I still can't find anything to wear, apart from a pair of boots that suggest I could be part of a pantomime horse
6) A Burning Bush is not biblical
7) Driving on the LEFT!
8) EastEnders - tv soap opera where lips are pinched and people scream "wotcha ya doin?"
9) Emmerdale - tv soap opera where the main family are The Dingles
10) Really good Bangers & Mash

Sunday, November 20, 2011


On December 24th a small child maybe seen peering from a window, face angled toward the sky.
Waiting. Excited and knowing.
Their expression matches mine, every single time I walk into a clothing store. Every single time! What's wrong with me?
On this trip I wanted a blazer. A blazer! Remember them? Why don't we have women's blazers anymore? Who stole them? The school uniform thief?

Yes, there are coats and jackets. Plenty of jackets that stop at your waist. If like me, you have a love seat as a backside, one cant do anything that stops at the waist.

All I want in life is to wear a pair of jeans, a shirt and a jacket. A jacket that covers! AND, lets not talk about jeans. Jeans that fit my legs, leave Grand Canyon gaps around the waist. The store called The Gap was created by me. Jeans that fit at the waist, well, they cant even get there for all the Body Mass Index that are known as my thighs. Belts are pointless by the way and the trend of boys pants hanging at the hips was created by me.
Once upon a time I bought a pair of expensive jeans, that fit great on the legs and waist. Every time I sit down the zipper opens. I sit there like a personal ATM machine.

So, I wear a big sweater to cover everything up and Yeti monsters are asking for my number. Hence my sudden desire for a blazer.

I eventually leave the store with a pair of earrings, I have great ears.
You watch, female blazers will be back in fashion next year. I asked for them on my letter to Santa.

Saturday, November 12, 2011


She looked down and smiled.
So, it was all about science after all.
The scars, healed and unhealed. The laughter, stolen. The love, secretly kept in a drawer in the kitchen, marked recipes, so nobody would know. All about science.

Hey eyes widen seeing the cliff top, the village disappearing within a yellow haze. The church seemed as though a child were erasing the steeple. It was silent. She and it stared upon one another, like old friends meeting unexpectedly at an airport. I'm going this way, and you?

Carefully and strangely with ease, she moved her arms and turned toward the other side of the village.
Her favorite side, where it had all started. Here the haze were even thicker and lights from homes attempted to shine out in declaration of permanence.

Peering and peering. Dipping as low as she dare, she saw it. The tips of the pointed rooftop with it's four pink chimney tops. She was disappointed to find no smoke swirling seductively from them. On the side, the wooden framed window, now closed. Was that a lock? An ugly lock?
The bakery was silent, not even sleeping. 

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Andy Rooney

This morning I read on line that Andy Rooney has died at 92.
What a guy. I only knew him because of 60 minutes and I only knew 60 minutes because it came on before The Amazing Race.
Listening to Mr.Rooney was soon tradition and I loved his words, even if I disagreed with him.
So in tribute, here is my Andy Rooney style post.....

I don't like it when young people (and by that I mean those in their forties seeing as I'm in my nineties)
waste time by feeling sorry for themselves. These people wake up feeling sad, and decide to go to therapy to work out what's making them sad. What they explore is even more stuff that makes them sadder and what's worse, half of those issues, they can't do anything about now, because its too late. Can they now just focus on what was currently making them sad? No, because they feel too worn out and unmotivated by the deeper sadness.
So then decide to spend more money by going into hypnosis to uncover the even deeper sadness in order to solve it - which is like counting on a Thanksgiving wishing bone.
So now they wake up, they are sadder than ever and have less money and listlessly join a support group for other like sufferers. Two weeks later they have new friends who are all sad and broke - hurrah lets set up a party.
If you're ninety and you feel sad, you think that's good, I'm still here.
If you're forty and you feel sad, you should think - that's good, I'm young enough to start again.
Just get on with it and stop blubbering!

Respectfully and Thank you Mr.Rooney.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Sharing Wind Chimes

Men and those weak of heart - do not read the following post. It reveals too much!
I should also request that anyone reading from the UK, please stop, as this was told to me from a friend in England. I have her permission to share and the ultimate promise that her name will remain forever hidden. Even if the Clooney offered dinner, dancing and more, I shall never utter the persons name.

After many comments and stories, and recommendations, a friend reluctantly bought a pair of Spanx.
Yes the famous suck it all in and hope for the best undergarment.
First my friend never wanted to buy them for the reason of: "If I need to look that good in a dress, it's to pull a bloke, and if I pull a bloke, how can I keep him keen when he finds The Berlin Wall protecting my goodies?"
Then she decided to give in and wasted a day asking every store for The Sphinx.

Last week she finally got one and today was the day.
Her description of putting it on was "as painfully long and boring as losing my virginity".
Followed by a huge delight of "love the easy access hole."
I had to point out that this was for relieving purposes and not quick sex in the back of a car.
She was slightly disappointed!

Then my favorite piece of her experience. In her own words.
"My stomach is so pulled in, that I can't stop farting. And when I fart, it can't get out and I feel the air traveling down my leg trying to escape!"
Seeing as she was wearing the Spanx for an important job interview, I can only imagine her entertaining this sensation while being asked "what are your most important skills you would bring to this job?"
She also admitted to me that she was "too scared of a nursery school accident" to rely on the easy access hole. "I pulled it all down while my backside blew the 18th overture."
While trying to pull the garment back into place, she broke off a false nail, which remained in the roles of fabric she guessed, as she could not find it again. Plus she had spent too long in the bathroom already (in her opinion) and didn't want for the receptionist to call security.

"I thought I might just chuck the thing in the bin and leave it there. But then I thought they'd think I'd planted a stink bomb......I even sprayed my legs with their air freshener."

 When I asked my friend how did the interview actually go, she said, she had no idea, "but my bum enjoyed it - it was like a wind chime caught in a sail."

Sunday, October 23, 2011


This is no surprise to anyone and everyone who knows me - I'm going to publicly admit that " grown up serious things go over my head!" These grown up serious things fit the following categories:
Politics, religion, sports, war, history, foreign policy and financial issues.
Most Sunday mornings the television show Meet The Press barks throughout our home.
My David used to watch this show like a sponge and I would sit and read, or pretend to read while dozing with open eyes. It's a skill!

Today, I was determined to watch and understand, as I feel like earth is quickly becoming a volcano from the outside in.
On comes Hilary Clinton and within seconds I am starring at her hair, shocked at how dreadful it looks.
Flat to the head, with those flip up wings at the end, that I see as helicopter blades. Is that her own personal mode of transportation? She just tenses up her hair flaps and pops off to Iraq from Pakistan.

Last night we went to see Laurie Anderson. Many people do not know her while some people remember her for that odd song "Oh Superman".
I appreciated the production quality and some of the music. When she was speaking as a man and mentioned corporate America being run by psychopaths, everyone cheered. I don't know why. I don't get it.
I know when things are wrong, but if I don't have an answer, then surely I don't like something only because it does not benefit me?
I'm plain confused. This week on the news we saw Gaddafi before his death covered in blood and looking horrified. We saw a convicted death row killer, who pleaded guilty, who now is going to get a re-trial.
The Occupy Protests are spreading, the IPad gets smaller and does more and some days I have the stuffiness of tobacco in my throat and nose, and I don't know why.
It all goes over my head.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Dream Meanings

Had an odd dream last night about someone I know, who was acting as a magician, including black top hat and those trousers with a shiny black line down them. His magic tricks were pretty poor and incredibly slow.
I was chosen from the audience to take part, mainly because I could pretend to be amazed at when a toilet roll appeared from behind my shoulder. There was something about coffee and a doll as well.
I told you it was odd.
Some dreams stay with you for the day don't they. As though they are begging to be solved like mini episodes of a long running drama. The peculiar feeling I had during the dream, stayed with me all day.
No matter what issue I was trying to solve, the magician was right there, and it felt like nothing got solved.
Again, I told you it was odd.
Come to think of it, I have dreamt about magic shows before and they always feature me being selected from the audience to participate.
Perhaps it's something from a script, begging to be brought out from the drawer again?
Perhaps I could count this blog as a letter to the Universe, asking for clarity. "Please tell me in my next dream what message you have for me."
And now, I'm just plain scaring myself. Why do I suddenly see the Exorcist girl with her spinning head??
Why can I hear the theme tune to Amityville Horror? (My brother and I can never hum that tune without going into a rendition of  Funicul√¨, Funicul√†!)
Great, now I'm not going to sleep and will to sit up all night making myself jump.
Perhaps I should bake that box of chocolate brownie mix I have hidden in the kitchen and watch Encore Love movies all night.
Why did I have to think of asking for messages!!! Who does that?
I have to change my thought pattern.
I just opened a book at random and it says; "Why would anyone want to listen to the messages of the Lower Self?"
See, that makes sense.
Wait - lower self? Does that refer to hell?
Now I've gotRosemary's Baby in my head!!!!
I'm going for the chocolate brownie mix and happy QVC selling pretty scarves with matching hats and mops to clean your kitchen!
Who needs sleep anyway?

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Dancing with the Stars

Congratulations to me, I stayed away from Rachel Zoe tonight to catch the end of Dancing with the Stars.
Or Dancing with the Who are they Stars - as most of them were not familiar to me.

It's funny with the fuss over Chaz Bono, that I see all the women looking like they are men dressed in drag - there is so much thick make up going on. Eyelashes do their own twists and they have made Nancy Grace look like a pantomime dame. British reference, sorry America! No wonder she farted live on the show last week - so I hear. Maybe she's getting ready to endorse Depends?

Susan Boyle made an appearance, singing not dancing. In fact I'm not sure she actually moves. I swear a puppet master was under her dress forcing her arms to stretch at one point. Her voice does not match her pained, sad expression, nor her bad hair day which I think is a knitted hat. Did you see the dancers in front of her? Both with sandpaper as thongs, for their faces too were screaming ouch. It's a pity her face does not know how good her voice is.

The audience is interesting too on this show. At one point I saw a Red Indian woman wrapped in a Mexican blanket pretending to be Cher, then I saw one of the Baldwin brothers and Pee Wee Hermen. I can't even stand writing that name!

I felt sorry for the teacup woman, (I think her name was China) who apparently went blank last night and got the cowboy boot tonight.

I did however love the piece for the remake of Footloose. As one of the original dancers, and by that I mean in my bedroom jumping around pretending I looked good, I could not imagine that movie being re made.
Looked great though, and the Hoff brother and sister reminded me of my brother and I. Meaning that after two red bull and vodkas, and a bag of pork rinds, we think we move as well as them - except we don't, obviously.

Monday, October 10, 2011


Any experience is different for each individual. There is no standard way of responding to anything. On top of this, as a care giver you feel like you are the only one dealing with issues. On top of that, you feel guilty, because you know there are other people with far harder situations to deal with.  I am certain too, that the patient feels completely alone with the diagnosis reminding them that they are no longer who they once were.
It becomes a circle.

It would be totally remiss of me to say to anyone "I know how you feel."
You know what I would like to say and hear: "How do you feel?"

Do you realize how guilty I feel being the well one? Do you know how ashamed I am when I complain and moan about something trivial like a door banging or a burnt piece of toast? Do you understand that part of me is dying and I am saddened that it is only emotional as it can't match the physical  time left for my husband?
Do you know that I watch him sleeping and whisper "get well" for hours? Do you know the times I've cleaned the bathroom in a day? Found the missing belt in a day? Changed the odd socks and shoes, quietly, without words? How many times I have to alter my day? How many times I reassure that yes it is OK that people see him with me? How many times I have to lie and say everything is great? Do you know how many times I stop myself from telling him something, because I know it's too confusing? Do you know how many times I have to hear how fat I am, how old I look? When will I exercise, when I will I run, when I will get more money?
Constantly caring and constantly questioning - am I doing the right thing? And now? And now?

The well is not endless. Its not an award I want, it's reassurance. It's not advice I want, it's a listening ear.
It's not an hour given with an annoyed tut. It's an hour offered honestly and thoughtfully.

Loneliness, love, shame, sorrow, laughter, guilt, bitterness, despair, determination, hope, bewilderment, depression, curiosity, wisdom, anger turned inward, low self esteem, emptiness all come way before tiredness.

How do you feel?

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Rachel Zoe - again

Lieyeke, ohhhhhhhhh, woooow,  realeeeeeeeeeey, seeick.

Yes, I got sucked in and delighted with watching Rachel Zoe again. Honestly, tomorrow I am sending that woman a gift basket of pineapple pieces. The poor thing. Can you imagine, she is happily married, running her own business that she loves, living in a house she adores and is pregnant. What??? Why aren't people helping her? Quick Bono - start a fund!
 Let me just write that description again so you can realeeeeey get the seeeick point. She is married to a scruffy guy who she loves because she can wear the Valentino trousers she chose and boss him around, which he accepts while drinking Perrier water and peeking behind his hair. She has a fabulous business in fashion - not a part time job packing shelves in Shaw's Supermarket which she leaves at seven am to get to her real job, which is packing canned peaches till nine pm. She is living in a mini mansion with white walls, not a hospital unit with green walls and is nine months pregnant in Blahnik high heels while still looking like a size six. 
My favorite quote was "I just need to go to my room, sleep, wake up and try to remember what it is that I love about my life."
Yes, somewhere in Africa a woman is saying: "I just need to go to my hut, cook a thousand meals from two grains of rice and inspire my five children to go out and look for water." Do you think in Somalia they are saying "Wow, I'm just so stressed" from the back of their limos, to their assistants, while holding an espresso.

I know I know, I'm being over the top darling and why should I watch the stuff when I get, lets face it, bitter!

I am no better, in that today I imagined myself like one of those Garfield Cats people used to stick to the inside of car windows, that looked like it was screaming "Help me get out of here."
Tomorrow I'm getting me a red lipstick, a pair of dark glasses and a matching Prada bag of rice.
It's all about perspective!

Monday, October 3, 2011


Saw the new movie 50/50 yesterday and I loved it.
It sounds peculiar to declare such enjoyment for a movie regarding cancer. I even felt odd with my keen interest to see it.
Pushing that aside, I went and was blown away by a script that is so simple and honest, with subtle acting from Joseph Gordon-Levitt and in particular Anjelica Huston.
Included in this cancer story is the father with Alzheimer's, and I admit when it was mentioned, my eyes rolled and I waited for the rude, bland comedy of forgetfulness. I was so wrong. The scenes involving the father were perfect; watch toward the end as the family walk up to the doctor for an update. Again I have to use the word subtle. It is those little things that make the big story. I would like to count up how many lines Anjelica Huston actually had, because her story was so complete in few words and actions. Damn good woman!!
Thank you to Will Reiser for taking his own personal experience with cancer and writing this script. It's interesting to read that Will says he cut scenes out that seemed unbelievable, yet they were true. That makes me smile as I know so many people say about their own lives, "it's like out of a book!" Perhaps our lives are now in reverse.
We know as more people battle, face, win or lose illnesses that those who are clever and wise will use the media in a prudent fashion to deliver beautiful pieces that perhaps will make those that are "in the sick bays" to feel a sense of belonging, rather than that, we are standing on a cliff waiting to be pushed.
For those like Will Reiser and our very own Scott Winters, thank you.

Monday, September 26, 2011

45 th Birthday Lesson

First surprise came when I worked out my age and realized I was two years younger than I thought.
I believe I always do this and yet I love the joy of getting back those two years.
It's funny how 45 sounds better than 47. Seeming that I now have this secret "by the time I'm 50" phrase going on, my dreams feel attainable again with two more years on the Outlook calender.
In my actual reality, the aged number and the number of years means nothing. I just use it as one of my comfort foods. Like the quick indulge of an Almond Joy, which seems less authentic than a whole Sneakers bar.

Second surprise occurred on the day before my birthday. During that day I laughed so much and so hard that I swear I felt as powerful as Moses facing a swimming pool. Highlight was (probably) one of those, you had to be there moments involving nail polish, wax and feet. It certainly wins my Emmy award for slight deafness and timing.
Which leads me into the birthday lesson - Listening Skills. Featuring listening between the vocal chords.
As I experienced a soap opera sized difference between the day before and my actual birthday, this educational opportunity deserves it's own biblical chapter, such is it's greatness. The third book of Jayne, paragraph 22, verse 48.

Dealing with Alzheimer's you begin to limit your own language in order to share. For example, you know that you need to repeat so often, that the shorter the sentence, the better it is for yourself.
Those of us who do not have a disability need to walk in the shoes of those that do, to understand how much we take for granted and how often we abuse one another.
I see people, myself included, as though we are play acting with Greek masks. The frozen expression does all the work while the noisy sentences are just rude, barking orders. The words are not even required to be heard as their true objective is to silence the issue and thus end it.

We shouldn't need to do that. We shouldn't want to do that.

I'm typing out loud with a wish that we could all just listen a little more.
Perhaps that's what I asked for when I blew my candles out on my very red, sweet birthday cake.
I think I would have, if I had known.

Friday, September 16, 2011

September in Massachusetts

Massachusetts had the most glorious weather today. Yesterday we were sweating in a moody eighty while being supervised by dark grey clouds.

Today; absolute bright blue sky and a sharp coolness that reminds me of when you first step into the ocean.
I love Autumn here. The sun is bright on purpose to highlight the many shades of gold, yellow, orange and rust. I love the surprise of the sun embracing you as you turn a corner, flooding a Summer warmth, as if to say I'm not going away forever. I love seeing pumpkins, saying the word pumpkin, and remembering that we always go to a pumpkin festival this time of year.

I love going out and buying a sunny pot of Mums for my neighbor and I, so that our front doorways smile at one another. Bringing my beloved cardigans and scarves to the front of the wardrobe, knowing that my legs and arms can officially hide, instead of being the odd ones out in the land of t-shirts and shorts.

On Sunday I will sit on the beach, wrapped in a blanket, drink coffee and watch the sea roll in and out.
Its the simple things. The calm things and the peace that I crave this time of year. Time to walk and let footsteps be the only action required. To feel sleepy with the fresh air and to appreciate how nature changes, maybe even inspired to do the same ourselves. Just little by wonderous little.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

It Felt Love

I opened a book at random just now asking for advice. I wanted to share the poem that greeted me.

Did the rose
Ever open it's heart

And give to this world
All its

It felt the encouragement of light
Against its

We all remain




Sunday, September 11, 2011

Peace - 911

Who am I to say anything about the tenth anniversary of 9 11?
Watching the tributes, hearing and reading about the stories I am in awe of humanity.
That there is within people a line to survive and to help, and a line that is to destruct and prove something without care for others. It frightens me that we expect to share the same planet.

With any death, it is both absurd and calming that life continues. That children are born, that seeds are bought to grow and people say I do with hearts full of hope and love.

Personally, this year, I am understanding more about peace. Inner, world, quiet, pudding, prize or movement.
I want it all.

Anyone who has been effected with a loss because of 9 11 - my love and respect reaches to you.
Nothing makes any sense apart from that.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Rachel Zoe,Toddlers and Tiaras

My switch off and zone out TV indulgence tonight was The Rachel Zoe Project followed by two episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras.

There is something about Rachel Zoe that I really like and I think I want to be her. Or should I say to be like her.
Here's the thing - everything she says includes a despairing sense of doom and gloom. One cannot tell whether it's a positive doom/gloom thing or truly a disastrous one. You would usually study someones expression to gather a clue as to which, however Zoe only has two expressions.
Those are; one: with sun glasses and two: without sunglasses. It is tough to decipher.
Example one: "Oh my goodness it makes me so, soooo's sooooooooo good."
Example two: "Oh my goodness it makes me so, like sooooooooooo mad........I just don't know."
She would be an incredible spy because you really cannot tell what she means. Plus, no matter how busy her schedule is, there is always a scene of Zoe and her gay possibility husband in white bathrobes calling one another babe.

My recommendation for Zoe would be to watch "Toddlers in Tierahs That Their Mothers Wish They Had Really Won For Themselves".

Those characters are all over the town with their expressions, winks, falsies and the classic pout, kiss and wave. Of course that's what attractive people do all day. Pout, wink, kiss and wave. Where on the sprayed sun tan planet did anyone think those over extended actions look good? It's like watching the seven dwarves, pumped up on Red Bull doing sign language for idiots.
Whats worse, the camera swings into the audience and you experience all the Mums/Dads (toothless, tight t-shirt, big earring types) all doing the ridiculous moves. AND, what's worse than that, is, I catch myself mimicking the moves and some of them I can't even do. How do they manage that irritating head bobbing thing? I challenge any of you to watch without trying it for yourself.

I also HAVE TO share that tonight featured a three year old girl, struggling, while a giant ferret hair enhancement was pinned to her head. Then the kid bashed her forehead on the door causing a big bruise, despite the reinforcement of the wig! On top of that the mother was not pleased with a fifth place trophy they received. "I don't even want that," she spat. I so longed for the kid to scream "Oh grow up!"
This poor kid had been pinned, tackled, whacked and it was her mother who was sulking! OH and did I mention she was also scared witless when she came face to face with someone in a costume of the big bad wolf? What an episode for us and what a ton of future therapy from just one day in this three year old's glittery life.
AND don't get me started with the kid who danced as Julia Roberts in "Pretty have to be a Prostitute Woman" style - including fake leather boots and yellow wig. I was stunned to head bobbing silence.

When I was three, I tap danced as a sun beam to Zip-Dee-Doh-Dah and I was not referring to Zip-Dee-Doh-Dah my fake leather boots!

And as they say, that's show business kid!


Monday, September 5, 2011

Fig Butter Recipes

I am happily surprised when I taste an adult food to discover that it is likable and sweet. Fig butter is a great example.
My friend Karen makes the most elite picnic sandwich you will ever experience. I say experience, because she makes them "live" on a beach with seagulls licking their becks saying "no way!"
The picnic sandwiches I make are two basic slices with something in the middle, not even cut and thrown into a zip lock bag.
Karen arrives with a loaf of freshly baked walnut bread. Then out of a bag we find pots, YES, containers of the sandwich contents. We have balsamic vinegar mixed with Greek olive oil, arugula, ricotta cheese and the now infamous fig butter.

Let me just say that being from London, I was once described as a snob because I bought uncut white bread from a bakery. I was (still am)  in constant need of approval and have never purchased fresh bread since.
Balsamic vinegar, I had never heard of before my emigration, (one imagines I came over on a ship in 1945.) All I knew was malt vinegar on fish and chips. As for arugula, as far as I am concerned, there only exists lettuce. In fact I remember being disappointed once when I ordered something from a menu called curly endive. Come on people, lettuce is lettuce, big green non tasting plants that I pull from my garden and call weeds. Salad is the most successful marketing con there is, that however is another blog!

Anyway, my point is that when Karen offered said fig butter - I was in full child mode and squealed "I don't think I'll like it". You have to understand that my brother and I grew up thinking that pineapples grew in cans.
Our introduction to most things was; that we wouldn't like it, it wouldn't be good for us, or work for us or be worth the effort. Best not to try anything new as defeat would then never be a problem.

"Just try it" Karen suggested convincingly and because I know I am now old enough, I did. Big surprise, fig butter was sweet and not like the burnt moldy avocado I thought it would taste of. I loved it.

One of my first "adult" dinners I had on a date; I ordered steak, as I loved steak. When it arrived, it was not the thin black meat Mum served with mashed potatoes, in fact why on earth was it bleeding? I was horrified and my date must have thought I hated him, for ordering something expensive and then leaving most of it.

Now I have been around for a few restaurant years and tasted stuff that is not like chicken, even when it says it is chicken. I learnt to use chopsticks in Paris, had wild boar in France, octopus in Greece and food poisoning in Bali. I have been privileged to eat in some of the finest restaurants and yet; faced with something new there is still the little kid inside that only wants cake and will always imagine unknown food to taste like sour milk.

Karen beautifully awarded me the whole jar and for six days solid I enjoyed a less than sophisticated version of her sandwich. Mine was balsamic vinegar, fig butter and cheddar cheese. Like a kid at Halloween, I over did it with my mixture amounts, and finally over dosed on Tuesday at 6pm.

Here lies Jayne - content at last, please bury in front of the fridge....with fig butter.........and cake......just in case.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Matthew McConaughey - The Inarticulate Lawyer

Proving that you can't have it all, I move my attention to Matthew McConaughey.

He is a good looking man and I can see why movie directors include at least one scene that features Matthew without a shirt on. I now add a mumbled, however. Mumbled, because, quite simply I can only understand one in four sentences that he utters. I guess he has a fear of the dentist and has bad teeth, as he never opens his mouth, unless it is to suck on some actresses body who simply asked him "what did you say?"

I just watched "The Lincoln Lawyer" and for the first hour thought I was on a foreign station lacking subtitles.
The story is so confusing that I ponder, was he cast because of his lack of diction?
What is he saying? What is the story? What on earth were they thinking when the mother shows up with her tight suit and matching hair bun? For a moment, I thought she was going to say; "and I would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for you dastardly kids."
I swear the movie has four alternative endings and the director decided to show them all just to make up the time.

As you know, I am one of the few who knew Bruce Willis was already dead in "The Sixth Sense." Yet, if you ask me how the drug woman was cleaning the floor in the male wing of a prison - I could not explain.

Another thought - why was Marisa Tomei smiling throughout the whole movie? Perhaps because she got to make out with Matthew rather than Mickey Rourke or John C Reilly.

I was wondering how Matthew could be this poor of an actor when I loved him so much in "Limitless", of course to later discover that Bradley Cooper was in that movie and not incoherent Matt.
So I guess the joke is on me, as this must be another sign of getting old before your years, when handsome people begin to look the same!  Oi you Matthew - get off my screen!

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Oh my lucky stars - Chinese Style

 Wanting to write a quick blog, I took a trip down memory lane and looked up my star sign for today, however I found the option to look it up through the Chinese horoscope. So here it is.............(I'm a horse by the way.)

Progress with little increase in effort comes easily to hard working artists, artisans and performers at this time.
That being said, the moment you do devote a little more elbow grease, you may notice that it has little effect. The sense that working harder makes no difference could cause lethargy. 

Honestly - what is the point of letting me know that with a little effort I will progress and yet the more I do it will not make any difference? AND, further more, because I know it will not make any difference I become lethargic. Which is not a desire of mine to be described as such. "Oh yes, I like Jayne, she's sweet sometimes and mostly lethargic."
Because Virgos worry, I am concerned that I will not recognize when my little increased effort goes into the area of big effort. If I do too much will that knock out the progress I would have made with the little effort? How do you know when your little turns into too much? Especially me! I have no idea of things like that. I only know when I've eaten too much when finally I'm grabbing for a bucket. Then I'm kind of hopeful that I will not put weight on. Please note this is not an advertisement for Jenny Craig Bulimia.
I guess I better stop now, as writing more will equal more effort and we know that will not increase my success at completing this blog.
This will NOT be continued.....................

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

HGTV Design Star

Dear HGTV Design Star -
I deserve a bedroom make over because I cannot for the life of me choose a paint color.
Currently I awake every morning and my first reaction is to scream as I peer to my left and face a wall that
perhaps Picasso on Ecstasy would say "wow I'm liking it."

It looks as though a painter from Arizona was murdered with a blunt knife while eating chocolate cake with yellow frosting. We have creme, blue (which said it was gray) pink (which said it was red) orange, salmon, rust and the original color of prison green. Each color owns its own large patch, some neater than others.

Anyone sensible may just paint a small square - I however can't trust a small square. Depending on where the light falls a red turns to a mauve which turns to a pink, so how can you commit from one small square? That's like being satisfied with only eating one square of chocolate instead of the entire bar. Impossible!

Also - why are cushions so expensive? $104 for one bedroom cushion which features a lobster on it! Who on earth, apart from Hugh Hefner, desires a lobster on their bed?
So please HGTV - send your manly men carpenters in their tight t-shirts (there's always one on the set) and I promise to gasp with tears at the reveal and say how the experience has changed my outlook on life.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Alzheimer's Peace

If I eat any more comfort food - there will be a famine in Massachusetts.
If I chew my nails any more - I will have reached my elbows.
If I take any more head ache pills - I will fail a drug test.
If I roll my eyes any more - I will be mistaken for a slot machine.
If I accept all the above and title it as my normal, then
If I continue to love this much - I will have done my job
And in that there is my peace.

Love you David x

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

What Not to Wear & Ten reasons why (#6) I should be on that show

Stacey and Clinton have returned with What Not To Wear. Any readers (ha readers!) with a life, need to know this is a TV show. TV is that square thing in the corner that you play for background noise as you get ready for 1) last minute trip to St.Johns or 2) the Tea Party Rally in DC  or 3) Nightclub Ultima in New York.

For me without much going on, I am pleased to see the shows return. It is your traditional make over show, where they lie about throwing the victims entire wardrobe away and send them shopping alone for two days in New York until a break down is on the fashion horizon and said hosts, come to a trendy rescue. I sit and complain, drawl, laugh, swear, scream "shes already pretty" or "you have got to be kidding!" Pretty good fun as you sit with slippers on and your hands still dripping from cleaning the bathroom. (By the way I can not recommend Mr.Clean enough! Used the Mr.Clean kitchen eraser pad tonight on the downstairs bathroom and it was fantastic! I can not find the bathroom one anywhere and then suddenly thought how would a cleaning pad actually know the difference?  Voila, I am free from the pressures of purchase advertising. Go buy it though its brilliant.)

As we discuss fashion, here are my all time ten reasons why I am not fashionable
1) Mum always told me that I look like a baker when wearing white trousers (she is correct)
2) Mum always told me that I look like a dentist when wearing a white shirt (she is correct)
3) Mum always thinks that she looks like a waitress when wearing black (she is correct)
4) Mum always thinks we both look like prisoners from Australian TV show Cell Block H when wearing denim (she is correct)
5) I can never, ever, no matter what width or 3d dimension I am - wear a belt
6) I love wearing Capri pants until I see myself in them
7) Any British person who thinks they look good in shorts is suffering from heat stroke
8) Me in a striped top is instant Pirates of the Caribbean
9) Me in anything animal print is instant old girl hunting
10) No matter how I try I can not do that tie up thing that people do with scarves - it just looks like I'm covering up a neck brace.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Gaslight - the remake

In the movie, Gaslight, Ingrid Bergman is driven slowly mad by her cruel husband, who tries to convince her that she is doing things when she is not. The only thing that remains in place is the bun in her hair.

I wonder if I am in the modern version? Where a group of people decide to destruct me, comically, bit by bit.
This week I have been feeling as though I want to pull my skin off. Literally, tear my own skin from my bones with the utter frustration, fear and sadness that follows me around.

For a time, I thought magical living was possible. That we controlled our own lives through our thinking and the thoughts we sent into the universe. Boy was I wrong. That was pure luck and the only year I was obviously allowed to have it.

Now whenever I call out for support, I know to expect the very thing that arrives will slam me down.
I just got told I did not have a conversation, when I know very well that I did have the conversation only an hour ago. And my dear readers (ha readers!!) that's not even from the beloved person with Alzheimer's!

Here's a tip: When you are faced with a person who looks great like Ingrid Bergman - then by all means have a go. When however, you are faced with someone who is dangling from a cliff looking like they have not slept in 48 hours, because they have not slept in 48 hours, how about smiling at them and offering a hand?

OK folks, I give in - you have me beaten! Can we rest now?

And now for Jen because she likes them - here is a list of things I have been in my previous lives:
1) Egg
2) Doormat
3) Failed Boxer
4) Tambourine
5) Nail
6) Door knocker
7) Tennis Ball
8) Fly Swatter
9) Car Brake Pedal on a driving instructor car
10) Donkey Pinata

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Kindle - our generations

As Charlie Kindel prepares to leave Microsoft for new adventures. Your very own Jayne now comes complete with her very own Kindle.

For the older generation readers (ha! readers!!) Or should I type for THE OLDER GENERATION
a Kindle is the new electronic book.
I personally devour books, my favorite places include book shops. The weight of a book, the smell of the pages. So I never imagined I would like the Kindle as much as I do and I love it.
Its pretty different when purchasing a book - as I tend to choose and judge a book by its cover.
Plus I like to flip to a page to see if I understand a sentence or two. You can still do those things, just electronically.

Into my first book I found myself stupidly thinking "wow its exactly the same as reading a book."
Kind of like when I first used a computer instead of a typewriter. Younger readers (ha readers!!!) Or should I type for The Younger Generation can look that word up in their history section on Kindle/Nook/Facebook/IPad/Kneepad/Mac point two triple zero.

Yesterday I downloaded a free crossword game onto my Kindle and became addicted. I could not believe tonight when the long much sought after word was SUCKER. I kept looking around to see who was watching. How delightful I thought to be electronically told that I am a sucker!

For my own enjoyment here are a couple of inventions I have witnessed from their beginnings and now use on a daily basis.
Microwave - Mum burnt everything as she could not believe that four minutes would truly cook anything.
Color TV - from black & white, I remember the color test card that would come on after 11pm when TV  was not a 24 hours transmission
Video Tape - now that seemed like a miracle, especially when you carefully removed the video without all the ribbon getting caught inside. For some reason we always blew inside the machine, kind of like a magic trick, in the hope that all would work well and a white rabbit would appear.
Cameras - where you didn't have to send off the tubes of film anymore and wait two weeks before you got them back. Mum & Dad used to take two photos of every shot - just in case one didn't come out!!
CDs - which side were you meant to play first?
DVDs - again which side is the movie on?
Tennis Atari to Lara Croft in Tomb Raider - my brother was addicted to Lara jumping into the pool in the cave.
And just because I am rambling here are modern things I can not trust:

Roladex to Computer Database - how do you know the info is current? On a Roladex card you can see all your crossing out of numbers and you know the latest scribble is correct.
Electric Blankets - that's a sad ending just waiting to happen. What if you spill your water or cough and dribble?
Coffee machines at home - no cup tastes the same twice.
Coffee machines at a hotel - where has that water been that you didn't put in there?
Bloody 'glades plug ins' compared to candles - you're sticking perfume into a socket and looking for a smell.
Hairdryers - I am frightened of my own hairdryer, yes.
Invisible fences for animals - what if you've cuddled the dog all day and leave the house drunk on all fours?
Electric Toothbrushes - oh my goodness, anything buzzing is not coming near me!
And yes, I think I will leave it there on purpose as that's another thing that I am not convinced beats the original!

Monday, August 8, 2011

Ten Reasons Why #5

Ten Reasons why you should suspect your partner is cheating on you with food:

1) they find reasons why they are the only one to clean the kitchen at nighttime and yet the kitchen is never clean
2) the Chinese Take Away is speed dial #1 on their cell phone
3) you find chocolate smudges on their clothing
4) they have started to wear elasticated waists
5) they say they hardly eat anything and yet they're not skinny
6) the only time they take out trash is when they are throwing out bags from their home office
7) sometimes the car just smells of McDonalds
8) the chocolate cake in the fridge gets smaller bit by bit
9) the Dunkin Donuts staff pass coffee without asking what the order is
10) their email is full of bonus points from Panera bread and other shady venues where people slip a five dollar bill into a tasty pastry

You know I'm right!

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Ten Reasons Why #4 Today could have been better

Ten reasons why one should question yourself before doing anything:
OR ten reasons why you should never take advice from me on how to handle a sad mood

1) Why would one actually expect the right answer when one calls out to the universe "send me a sign"
2) Why would anyone seriously look at the next email as being the answer to example number one
3) Why would anyone spend 30 minutes then looking at the email which is a Sandals vacation to St.Lucia; to the point of even chatting with the sales person to ask if you could pay with installments.
4) Why would anyone think that example number 3 above would cheer themselves up
5) Why would anyone overweight and exhausted, think that a Sandals vacation would be good for her and her sadly confused husband (That is a screenplay right there!)
6) Why would anyone be surprised that they then cry for an hour
7) Why would anyone think that then going on a binge of coffee, French Crullers and Pretzel M&Ms would make them feel better
8) Why would anyone then think that a large strawberry colatta would solve the upset stomach
9) Why would anyone then be surprised when tugging on the old spanx - that vomiting comes to mind
10) Why does one always open ones wardrobe with optimism that you will find something suddenly perfect in there to wear

I will now sing Tomorrow from Annie!

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Ten Reasons Why #3 Its time to.......

1) time to clean your house when mice pack their bags to leave
2) time to clean your house when tumbleweeds of dust roll through the kitchen
3) time to get a new hobby, when you re-think the planning of your own birthday celebration, because "the TV is good that week"
4) time to get a new hairstyle when even your hairdresser wont phone you back with an appointment date
5) time to get a life, when you awake from a fantastic dream that featured you as a character at Disneyland where your best friend was Sleeping Beauty (Is it at or in Disneyland?)
6) time to get more friends, when the only voice-mail messages you receive are from CVS telling you your medications are in
7) time to get more insight, when your highlight of the day was hearing a child in Loews say "but I've wanted a flashlight all my life!"
8) time to admit you have a problem with guilt, when you feel so bad about agreeing to cut down a tree in your garden, even though it is causing damage. (I can't even look at that tree in the trunk now.)
9) time to admit you have a food issue, when you are annoyed to find that a squirrel has jumped in your car and dragged out a piece of lemon cake, you had hidden in a bag on the backseat to eat in private! (It was really good cake)
10) time to question your sanity when you are seriously considering joining a Zumba class for seniors

Thursday, July 28, 2011


Please forgive me, dear man, who was jogging on the path by Buttonwood Park today at approximately 4pm.
I was driving. You were jogging, in slow motion (how did you do that?)
You were jogging on your way to fitness while I was driving to DunkinDonuts.
The traffic had slowed, at first I thought for lights and now I wonder if it were simply a line of drivers (male and female) slightly braking just to catch a glimpse of you.
I am not a fan of people walking, running, gardening, working without shirts on. Unless you are at the beach, swimming pool or getting lucky.
You, Mister Buttonwood 2011, as I will now remember you, you must have invented shirtless.I bet your family tree leads you back to Adonis.
Oh my, what a great vision of tan and muscles. What a great chest, as the furniture salesman said to another.
I remember the doll of the Bionic Man, he had a chest like yours. Not in size of course, that would be weird.
Action man too, though he had that little scar on his face, that made you think -"ohh, he's a fightin' man!"

Anyway, apologies that I looked stared for a moment. I promise the licking of lips was aimed for DunkinDonuts and I promise I'm not getting glasses for a better view.
It's all part of the circle of life. Those that once were looked at, will soon look back, happily stop looking, then return to looking with memories and then eventually forget why they are looking.
Cue Lion King song and me holding up a chocolate frosted with sprinkles!

Friday, July 22, 2011

My Positive Friday Morning 10am to 10:15am

This is a great morning and here is how I look at it:

My main duty today is to print & organize clues for a large program I have on Tuesday.
We are talking about 1,000 various print outs, folded, stuck and organized into divisions.
Approximately 5 hours work.
So my positive spin is: it is great, just great, when your printer jams on the very first page!

My lovely, lovely husband has a different ailment each day. We have had blindness in one eye, lack of a throat, lumps in the stomach and now we have a pain in the foot. All deserve love, and for David he wants immediate medical attention.
So my positive spin is: I'm glad it's only Alzheimer's and not the real problems happening.

I am truly pleased that I just received an email saying that a long lost relative in Xigwangcoxlin has inherited $10,0000 and just needs my bank information. Followed by a phone call declaring that I have just won a Caribbean cruise.

Honestly - this just happened in the last 15  minutes. It's going to be a good day.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

The theory of the young and older

In my younger, slimmer, perkier days I had a theory; the first time you gave a new man a blow job, your mascara would never smudge. One would look as gorgeous as the receiver was picturing. The second time, same man, ones mascara would double and the receiver would be faced with Gene Simmons in another type of Kiss mode. One would never know this until you caught a reflection of yourself or the man had screamed and fainted, which you mistook as blissful joy.
Which is why, gentleman, you only really get one good blow job from the same woman - because she is thinking of her mascara!

Now that I am in my older, heavier, lower days and a blow job means the vacuum cleaner is not working , I have a new theory.
When one is getting ready in the morning and quickly winds up their longish hair and simply mounts it to the back of the head with a plastic claw grip, they will look in the mirror and say; "Wow that doesn't look bad, I will leave it like that. Hair spray will keep that baby in place."

Then two hours later when they arrive at their destination, which is a public place, the mirror will laugh as one  realizes they look like they have a mans toupee stuck to one side of their head and a tail of an old fox sticking up on the other. Yes indeed the hair spray has hardened and nothing can move. Delightful.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Scott Winters

What can be said about today?
I am at a loss to put words to so many feelings.
I am no newcomer to funerals, memorials and not someone who has not lost a friend before, and yet,
I can not move my Rolodex from your name.
Perhaps my high respect for you has no where to go. After all, you brought me two degrees from Kevin Bacon! Then I realize it doesn't have to go.
As it was said earlier with two perfect eulogies, your children are magnificent shadows, they now move into their own sunshine. We have so much to look forward to in that regard. Sandy too, there are achievements yet to come that will inspire us.
Driving away down the road, through Providence and all I want is to send a confirmation and ask if you can pick up another bag as "they added another team!"
Life is odd, I guess we all know that. If there is a lesson, it is the one you gave to all of us and that is:
"That everything is great."

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Ten Reasons Why #2

Ten reasons why:   I know I cannot live in a really hot climate

1) me wearing sunglasses resembles a little kid with her first pair of glasses. no matter which pair I buy, they just look stupid. Audrey Hepburn, Jackie O and Doris the Explorer
2) shorts! what is wrong with people! why do men get long & baggy, while women either get sexy, tight or the elasticated waist get Grandpa excited look
3) thong bleedin sandals hurt me. I don't want my toes being segregated
4) once we hit the eighties my thighs stick together
5) once we hit the nineties my thighs down to my knees stick together. I currently look like a walrus
6) drying my hair with a hairdryer is pure torture in hot weather
7) when I stop moving, I am like a car whose water from the air conditioner trickles, in that a pool of sweat trails behind me (yep really attractive).
8) I am so full of water my stomach slooshes
9) tan lines on my double chin (yep really attractive)
10) sitting on the beach I constantly smell bacon and get nervous that I'm frying myself

Monday, July 11, 2011

Ten Reasons Why # 1

Here are ten reasons why:     In a previous life I was a dog.

1) love bacon -  I laugh every time that commercial for beggin bacon comes on with the dog who says "I'd get it myself but I got no thumbs! I love you I love bacon I love you I love bacon"
2)  totally adore driving with my windows open, I would stick my head out if I could
3)  despite being on two feet, I am still close to the ground
4)  do my own version of chasing my tail - that's a regular day for me
5) as a kid I cried all the time when Lassie was on - must be jealous that some other bitch got my movie role
6)  get so excited when going to the beach
7)  love food, cuddles and sleeping
8) get scared now when I hear Sarah McLuhan singing. I used to love "In the Arms of the Angel" - now
I just think of that unwanted pet commercial and get sad. It must be a huge decision for an artist to agree for their music to be on a commercial.
9) want to eat anything I find on the floor
10) bathroom visits involve alot of fuss, howling, waiting, deciding and dithering

Thursday, July 7, 2011

What's a bad day like?

Knock knock. Who's there? Alzheimer's. What? No, Alzheimer's who? What?
You get the point.
I miss conversation! Easy banter. Warm loving words. Discussions. Plans. Inspiring stories. A sharing of dreams or the grocery list.

Ninety percent of my time is now spent in pure stress mode. Lost glasses, a lost wallet (now called clothes), what day it is, what time it is. Searches for the three telephones, finding water still running, finding dirty washing spinning in the dryer complete with washing liquid. Keys, the constant checking for keys.

I feel like I'm in a whirlwind and there are moments when I say, just lift your feet up and whoosh I'd be gone.
Anxiety. Fear. Desperation. Giddiness. Need. Want. Now.  All of these things that no longer have names and explanations are jumping beans in my husbands head.

I miss so many things about my marriage. The biggest thing are the ease of words and the ease of a shared silence.Who knew those were privileges?

Taking Tylenol PM quickly I go to bed to forget the day and how sometimes, I dread the next.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The Balance

I need to write my blog on a regular basis. I have ideas, and then days go by and when I recognize that I want to write something I have lost my inspired thoughts. Kind of like looking forward to eating grapes, then remembering where you put them to find they now resemble tiny prunes that have invited irritating fruit flies into your kitchen. If fruit is healthy - why does it welcome flies?

There is a heavy issue currently surrounding me regarding cancer and a dear friend. It is on my mind and for sure, is changing me. With respect, I will return to this as my thoughts are evolving.

I want to say SCREAM: life is unfair.
I can not sit comfortably imagining that Casey Anthony will be walking through an open door. She can now write her biography and begin her reality show about swimming lessons and party planning. I know I have not followed the case and in this situation there are two hundred sides to the story. Am I being judgmental  in my decision to feel so angry about the verdict?

I did not sleep last night for weighing up two outcomes. Her one and the one that I am having to accept for my friend and his family.
Again I return to the personal responsibility that we all have. The tiny decisions that each day may or may not impact others. The opportunities to support or ignore, and the times we have to watch control float away.

Come on people - what is wrong with us?

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Here we are again

I know, I know better. I often scream "I wish I could quit you!" Of all people, I recognize how short life is and how pointless it is to get caught up with material issues. Especially materials that become either size four dresses or size twenty.
Yet, again this morning for at least forty minutes - I was convinced I could go on a detox diet.
I read the magazine article I have already read five times and felt inspired and excited at the thought of juices, salads and clean bowels. Just imagine - not yawning at 10am, not slapping yourself across the face in order to get some color to your cheeks, and not having to buy a dress and ALWAYS a cardigan to match in order to cover yourself.
The after photo of the victim successful detoxer made this look possible and of course the 21 day promise allowed me to see myself wearing a summer dress that did not look like something from Walton's mountain.

Then I begin to plan buying the blender that is required, oh, and the juicer that is required. Is there a blender that is a juicer? Should I empty the fridge now and start tomorrow? What about July 4th? That means ribs and I should not be reluctant to partake in celebrations, being the true American (well British) person that I am.
I'm not even hungry as I plan this detox - probably because I had just eaten a packet of chocolate Rollo's (you have to eat them quickly in case they melt).
Anyway, it is nearly 10pm, I've just had ice cream and I'm salivating over a cooking TV show.  The importance of this blog is WHY? What is it that states that I am not OK right now?
If cupcakes, tiny dogs, calling yourself Princess and coupon shopping is trendy - why can't plumpness be acceptable?

Thursday, June 23, 2011


Do you think there are days when Mr.Obama puts his head in his hands, then suddenly inspired shouts:
"Hey 'Chell, come on babe, lets get to Aruba, get drunk and do the business!"
I wonder if he ever feels "I have no time for me!"

Do you imagine that a big, burly, hells angel bike rider, radios over to his leather and beard burdened bro to say: "I'm chucking in my diet, lets pull over for a strawberry ice cream!" That sometimes he thinks, I just want to wear cotton today!

My point is, at times I feel like I'm the only person not doing their work properly. By that I mean all my work and all the personalities that are required. The 9 to 5 stuff, the life issues, the care partner, the daughter bit. Some days I can't ram a do-nut down quickly enough, while other days I let myself feel the fear.

I don't mean to be down all the time, I truly am the person to say my bag of fries is half full. It's just the odd day really gets to me, when I can't find a saucepan lid, when I don't have time to shower, when I go to cook the box of pasta that has always been there and yet has now disappeared.
I am the rope in a tug of war, yet I remain this short, fat, ineffectual being, instead of being stretched into Heidi Klume.

I wonder if somewhere - Heidi Klume is writing her blog at this very time, with the same wish, except in reverse. A light wind will blow through the curtains and tomorrow I will wake up in Paris with Seal bringing me breakfast and a kiss from a rose. The wheat-grass is always greener - right?

Monday, June 20, 2011

2:45am - in other words - Chapter ?

I dislike not being able to sleep and I love not being able to sleep.
My thoughts accompany me through such television adventures.
Miss California became Miss USA tonight, despite Kelly Osbourne's lipstick making her look as though she had kissed a frozen orange stick. You would have thought better make up on a beauty competition.
Then I stumbled upon The Glee Project.

Not being a fan of the show Glee, (I have only seen it for five minutes). I was happy to lose myself in this show where actors are competing for a role in the new series. It is described as the best talent show there is, and I agree. This is as close as you can get to auditions and learning how TV works. Of course, as close as you can underneath the umbrella of: we all live in a house and have to do weekly tasks before we all walk miserably to a bulletin board that tells us who is going home.

The comments from the directors and producers were actually inspiring. One actor was nervous, and the director was pointing out that they are all saying you can do this, and you're saying you can't.

So, here is my point. I am picking up on many signs telling me to do something, yet habit prevents me from jumping in. I am the only person telling me no at the moment. I am the only publisher stamping reject on my work, because I haven't sent any writing out since April. (One piece is out there, lets not send the word reject too loudly into the universe). 

We have a tendency to focus on no, on rejection, on failure. In sickness and in health. Yep, lets start with the sick bit. For richer or for poorer, perhaps we should just stop at richer, on the assumption that most of us are not rich, and those that are, still need to have more.
Or we bounce to the opposite extreme.
"How are you?"
"I'm absolutely fantastic, thank you, bless you for asking. May you have the bountiful day that I wish for you."
Insert Icon of Smiley face and bouncing monkeys swinging from rainbows, and play the soundtrack from Hair.

If you had a reality show about you - what would it feature? What would you go for?
In this decade do we now bring in the dream/ambition that a reality TV show will allow us the push we could have given ourselves? Is it added to resumes? I was featured in the audition crowd of episode one of "So you think you can cook/dance/act and model".

Is that now an excuse we can legitimately add to the underachievers excuse? Well, if they had a show on writing, I would enter that!

This is where I say, I dislike not being able to sleep because my habit is to say "not in this lifetime Jaynnee girl." Instead of typing Chapter One.


Thursday, June 16, 2011

The disease

A funny thing happened to me as I was knocked off my feet by an Ocean Job Lot cart pushed by my husband, who then got worried because he could not find me, because I was stuck on the floor struggling to get up.
It occurred to me that I am so lucky to love and to have a sense of humor.
If Mr.Weiner had a sense of humor instead of an ego, we would not know that he is an idiot in grey underwear.

The thing is, I hate the disease, not my husband. I love him.
I had plenty of chances to fall out of love with him years ago. If those times did not change my feelings, an illness he did not invite for dinner, is not going to make me hate him now.

Can you imagine waking up with a blindfold on and woolly socks stuffed in your ears?  You stumble to the phone and there's a message on your voice mail instructing you to go ahead and live normally, go on just try.

That's how I view Alzheimer's. David knows something is going on, yet he cannot find the words to describe it. He is not aware of repeating or talking to the wall thinking its me. He is aware of constant changes and that it hurts when you walk forward into space only to slam into a door. Or when you cant be understood by your family and when the effort of putting on a t shirt takes twenty minutes. Here is the wonder though - he still gets up and tries every day, to do the things I take for granted. He still tries to inspire his children and tries to share life with friends.
Some nights I watch him sleeping and imagine a gremlin sitting on his head, nibbling away his brain. I would smash that gremlin if I could and throw him to the lions. 
Davids passion for living still races around. It may now speak a garbled language and wear odd socks, it is still David. It is our role just to acknowledge that and accept. He is still there and nobody should shy away from that, just because we choose to see what has now gone.
Give every percent a chance to shine, as too quickly it all will fade. 

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Happy Birthday Brother

It's my big brothers birthday today June 7.
Please can everyone in the Universe wish him happy birthday fortune. He deserves some luck!
If someone had a winning  lottery ticket and would have it blown away in a sudden gust of polluted London or Spanish air - it would be my brother.
He never feels sorry for himself and maybe he should! His charming smile always deceives (as much as his hair color!) His amazing sense of humor and warmth makes you feel he hasn't a worry in the world - plus he has no wrinkles. He is my older brother that looks younger and far better in a dress than me. (You have to know his job to understand!)

I have always, always loved my brother. From the days that I dressed him up as Jesus in my living room production of Jesus Christ Superstar. To the night I first saw him drunk as he was screaming "All aboard the Skylark" and to the days we were TV extras together in EastEnders.
I will never forgive him for the time he convinced me that he was a visiting alien and was leaving to go back to his own planet. I will never forgive him for having Dads ankles instead of Mums and I will never forgive him for complaining when I threw up, yet again, in the white Mercedes.
I will however, always love and smile. And David - if I could give you fame, fortune and your Indian headdress back with all the feathers in tact, I truly, truly would.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAVID -
Love little Sis xxx 

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Jaynes Observations and I think I think too much

Today the weather is in the low seventies and I am sitting in the garden. I have done alot of work in the garden this year and spent quite a few pennies on flowers. Yesterday I did my impression of Tom Sawyer and painted a fence white. I recommend that you thoroughly clean a fence first before painting, unless you want "the dead spider and bird dropping caught in white paint effect." Which is what I did want, of course!
Though for me painting a six foot fence without a ladder was not easy and I am proud. To my neighbor who may now have splatters of white paint all over their drive way and possibly a kitchen window - it was not me!

As I sit in the sun, which is one of my favorite things to do, I imagine that my laptop will suddenly explode! Five minutes later....
I have now moved and am sitting, cold in the shade, less scared of the laptop blowing up. I guess too, I should be grateful that I am not turning myself into old leather skin. Though I am planning on leaving my body to a bunch of Chinese children who can make at least two thousand handbags from me.

Last thing to share, I visited someone in hospital this morning. All will be well. As I got into the lift (elevator for American audience) we went up to the 5th floor. I know the 5th floor has several LOCKED doors and heavy medication, if you know what I mean. I wonder why they send the ones who believe they can fly or those who want to jump, up to the highest floor? Anyway, I felt a touch sad/scared/bad when two lads got in who looked like a staple gun had won the fight. Both held plastic bags with their belongings and tattoos were breeding on their arms and necks.
Doors close, down we go to the 4th floor and in walks a Priest.
Now, I know I am going to die!

Isn't it funny when a member of the church comes into your personal space? You either think this is a good sign or a bad sign. I always think they can see that I am an atheist and will throw water over me and force feed me bread. Anyway, I feel more nervous, so to break the ice I want to say: "I hope we're not all going down to the basement!"

I keep quiet though, while the two young men chew and the Priest hums what sounds like "Who let the Dogs out" - and I am not kidding!

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Until we meet again Oprah

Wednesday May 25th at 4pm USA Eastern time.
I was glued (such a funny description) to the television watching Oprah say "until we meet again."
When it is released for a seasonal special, please buy me a copy. No sarcasm either, I'm being honest. I found it captivating. So eloquent, confident, charming and damn honest.
My favorite message was validation.
I see you. I hear you. What you have to say matters to me.

For far too many years I have enjoyed conversations with Oprah in my bathroom or car.
Mainly celebrating the Oscar win for my movie, written by myself from the best selling novel, written by myself. Not many people realized in the movie either, that the woman in the Lycra sweat suit with buck teeth and bum to match, was actually me.Yes, I prefer to hide behind a funny character, I admit to Oprah, looking shy yet amazingly attractive.
In interviews I am always slim and always happy with shining hair. My message with Oprah was at first, humor, then hard work, then hard work and luck, then saying yes and then finally in these later years, it's never too late.
Now who do I have such dream conversations with? Who is left?

I wonder how many dreamers have chatted about their success in the bathroom, holding onto hair brushes as microphones, posing against the door for a glamorous photo shoot.
I wonder too if wanna bes in other professions do the same? Did Obama ever act out receiving the Noble Peace Prize in his bathroom? I wonder if Sarah Palin still does!

So farewell Oprah. Perhaps there will be another place for us to meet. In fact I will send you an invite to my bathroom for an inspiring chat. We can each have a hairbrush and pretend the flush of the toilet is applause.
It all starts with a dream on a bathmat, I guess.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

The Root of The Purpose

Today at 5:10pm, just 6 minutes ago I finally realized my purpose.
It has been a concern of mine to reach my mid forties and not to know it. Now I do.
No surprise to others to learn I am in the wrong profession. My purpose is not even to write.
It is, drum roll with toasted cheese please......................
My purpose is to be a dentist.
When I work, I feel most of my day is like pulling teeth.
A simple request evolves into a Lord of The Things Trilogy.
A yes or no answer is all that is required, yet never discovered, despite drilling, drilling and drilling.
I am in the chair for hours, yet all I get is to spit!

Dentist school application on it's way.


Friday, May 20, 2011

The Day Before for Karen & Mark

So I may not have found anything new to wear,

I am however going to get blond in my hair.

And as I think that tomorrow for Karen and Mark

There is a magnificent shining spark

I can't wait to hear them say I do

And together become The Scalia Two.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Conversation about honesty and a duck

I am in two minds as to whether to share this story.
I believe I will, as it would mean an awful lot if something I said could/would/should make a difference to someone.
Topic is: communication through conversation and how much we take for granted.

My husband now has difficulty in communicating. He has described to me, the frustration of seeing a word and then it fades, quickly and he is left with a hollow feeling, that ne needs something, yet has no idea of what.
Sometimes he tells me a story, and I truly have no idea of what he is saying. Sometimes he tells me something perfectly and I check to see if my David is back. We find ways of communicating, and just when I get the hang of it, I need to change tactic again, as I realize something else is proving too foreign for him.
 I see my David as though he is falling far away into the depths of a hole, like Alice. I'm peering down and I cannot fall in after him - it's not in the rule book or the chapter listings.

As much as my intelligence, love, whatever it is, allows me to have and to hold, my impatience gets the better of me and an anger that I have living in me, suddenly comes out. It is truly a nasty anger. It is, however, extremely young and shows off like a six year old leaving a party before the cake is cut.

This week end touched on the subject of taste, and it was suggested to me that I have none. Now instead of reminding myself that I have an 'Ignore' button and that I have heard worse within the B.A.T zone (Bermuda Alzheimer Triangle), I act up to the comment and a million other memories that have nothing to do with my husband, yet I am angry and bitter about them all. Result: I packed up a number of things that I had bought for David, or bought for the house and threw them in my car. Drove and donated them to a charity shop! Yep - packed them up in a couple of baskets and donated the lot!
Now the really, really, stupid thing is that my dear David would not notice if I painted my face purple and wore a Lady Gaga costume. So how would he notice that a wooden duck statue is no longer by the television. The person who ends up hurting is me, because I loved my wooden duck.

The fact and truth I wish to share is, when you are fortunate enough to have ears, tongue, eyes, limbs, everything functioning - do not waste moments with mindless communication. Just talk. It is a privilege to be able to do so. If the other person can only add dead worms to the conversation, then that is all you will ever receive. Stop imagining they will suddenly quote Ghandi.  They won't!
Stop playing games or holding onto past battles and wins. Listen, think and be honest. I sit in meetings and see mouths working and yet nobody listening. People playing chess, with the intention of making the other player lose - yet nobody has any pieces because there is no game of chess!

I wonder what in our human chemistry makes us this way? Is that why there is illness, in the hope that it inspires others to do differently?
Why do we bother learning languages when we can't be bothered to talk the truth?

If you ever feel that the only way you can be understood is by donating your own things to make someone realize something - than you have it so wrong.

If you start with fear and anger - how will the other person answer? Most likely with their fear and anger.
And so it goes.

I am ashamed of how I acted this week end. I know better and I am going to learn.
 I am also going back to the charity shop and, buying back my wooden duck.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Just In Case

I had heard that it may be the end of the world tomorrow! So, just in case, here is my wish for the future species that will produce the next mankind.

Please learn to listen wisely to the wise and know you are a fool to listen to the foolish.
Please love yourself first, freely with respect, passion and laughter.
Please protect yourself from everyone who tells you what to do, when they never share with you how or why.
Please hold your own hand, talk with your own heart and sing with your own voice.
Please know all you can about you, before you allow others to tell you.
Please learn, love, protect, hold and know; every day, every moment, be you.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Angry Teacakes

People should only hire unhappy people to work. Or, losers. Perfect employee would be unhappy losers.
It is Friday evening and I'm working, not even from pressure of having so much to do! Just because I'm angry and have to hide it by working.

Instead of The Incredible Hulk, I have created a new super hero - The Incredible Teacake.
In normal mode, she is a coconut doormat with "Welcome" printed in bright orange happy letters.In smaller letters, bright pink - the words say "go on and dig those heels in!" It always makes people smile and they follow the instruction with great enthusiasm.
Occasionally, Doormat begins to sneeze with the level of dirt and unwanted debris that is being pushed onto her. She knows it's her life's purpose, yet still, just that one pair of too many high heels, pushes her over the door step.
Bits of thread stretch and rip, the yellow turns red like fire, until suddenly you hear a big loud PING.
The Ping from an Easy Bake oven. There right before your eyes is a giant Teacake. Round, warm, smelling of raisins and on the top unusually for a Teacake, a pile of white frosting.
Teacake growls and runs off into the woods - leaving dieters and skinny people fearing for their weight.

That's how pointless and without ambition my anger is. A Giant Teacake.
Cue soft sad music as I fling my recipe book across my shoulder and walk down the bakery aisle in Shaws.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Insanity and Robert Bruce

Insanity is when you keep doing the exact same thing expecting a different result.
Yup, tick that box - I do that!
Robert Bruce said: If at first you don't succeed, try and try again.
Yup, tick that box as I also do that.

So dear fable and moral writers which should I do....because they don't work together it seems!
Example - today I thought to get myself out of a bad mood, I would take 30 minutes to mail a package to my Mum and brother.
Love gets to me and I realize I do not have anything for my brothers wife, Michelle. So I stop and buy her a few little care package things. Nice right?

Get to post office - no computers working its cash only.
Drive back down the road to an ATM.
Drive back up the road to the post office.
45 minutes later and 8 people behind me screaming "Get Out!!" - the post office have convinced me that my Mums town does not exist. Even though I have shipped there before, NO, it does not exist. I have it incorrect, when I know I don't! Package is brought back home and bad mood continues.

So, am I wrong to try and try again to break my bad mood? I have plenty of examples to show of this type of activity. Paint my home office a really nice color. The second gallon I purchase is exactly the same as the first one apart from the shade. Re paint again!
Make a nice meal - Moroccan Salmon - answer work phone to try and assist someone, salmon burns and could have been steak!

So is trying and trying again simply being insane? Help me !!!

Oh well...therapy tomorrow, that's always good for a laugh.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011


3 Ginger Lemon Biscuits from the hidden emergency box in the car
Dunkin Donuts Coffee
Toasted Croissant with butter

2 Hot Dogs with fries
Soda Water

Small fries
Small diet coke

Chocolate Rabbit

I know! Right!!!!!!!

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Scott and Sandy Winters

I am pretty well full of feelings and yet at a loss for the right words.
Tonight was the benefit evening for Scott and Sandy Winters. An idea my boss had, with the aim of helping Scotts family as they face cancer.
I have known Scott for nine years. We have laughed about so many things. Including his and my husbands adventures with cancer.

I was, and still am as I type this, in awe of seeing how beautiful Sandy looked and how much pure love glowed from that incrediable woman. Without a single nerve showing, she sung to Scott from her heart as he gazed on, looking as though their love had just arrived. That was courage, strength, a true connection that is rarely seen.

It was an honor to be there - and again I am reminded that I really do not understand our lives. What I do recognize is the bravery of giving everything, because.........what else can you do?
Scott & Sandy - you are remarkable - I love you.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Indulgent Moan

It has been a while since I last wrote.
When I get busy I tend to hide and by that I mean completely disappear and leave my true self standing alone, waiting at a bus stop in the pouring rain, feet feeling soggy in velvet shoes and hair hanging heavy against my cheeks.
That is how I feel, when all I do is work. When all I do is exist as a care partner and not as the lover, or the wife, or even the best friend.

I crave a need to fly to somewhere glorious, wear red and sip Merlot. A man once promised to take me to Vienna to hear music. He died instead. When I got engaged for the first time, in Paris, the moment was tainted by drunk rude group at the next table and my future husband getting frustrated that he was being charged for the champagne. When I got engaged for the second time, my future husband was sad to realize he was in the wrong restaurant and not the one his Mum had given him the gift certificate for.

Why do I mention this? As an example of looking in and never entering because I feel I do not deserve.
Promises are excuses for not doing now.

Yep, I'm tired, a touch on the bitterness side of the martini glass. There are days when I feel like I have been around for eighty or ninety years and that I have not done a damn thing.

Before you see finding the phone in the kitchen sink as an achievement - I encourage you to say yes to the next invite for a weekend in Amsterdam. Then again I guess the grass is always cheaper.....I mean greener!

Monday, March 28, 2011

A Water Cooler Conversation

I truly cannot share with you the conversation I enjoyed today in the office.

No, truly I should not.
It was an education into something that has an interesting name, which actually means nothing like it suggests. OR, it may actually mean what it suggests, just in an unusual, embarrassing, appalling, funny, alluring, exciting, revolting, stimulating or disgusting manner depending on your preference.

I had never heard of it before.  I am frightened to even look the name up on a computer for fear of the CIA knocking on my door or a brigade of scary pop ups jumping from my screen. They might be in 3D too!
No, I still cannot share with you this name!

It was so refreshing to me, that I was the only one not to know. Especially as there was a time, years, years ago when walks of shame were expected and I did indeed play my part in that specialized activity. 

I thought I knew everything, even though I had not done everything.  If you get my meaning!
Yes, I am talking about the old knickers in your pocket act. Creeping out before "The Guy" (because now you cannot remember his name) stops snoring and turns over to reveal his face and you scream "Dear Lord, I did that?!!"

Please know our office has a water cooler, named Michael Jackson, and our conversations move rapidly through the varied adventures of life. If you ever need to talk about more than photocopying, diets and lawn seed, then please come over to Production. You might just learn something.
No, I cannot share that name!

For my Universe

I have had so many thoughts recently for blog posts that could be inspiring for those around me, and yet I can never quite find the words. M...