Vegetable Days

I’m pretty good at figuring out when my body needs a break. Because of the way I travel (and work long hours when I’m not traveling) I run on a lot of adrenaline, just to keep going.

Yesterday, I realized I needed a Vegetable Day (Veg Out for short). Veg Out days for me mean that I stay in my pjs all day. I don’t do any housework, or cook, or work in the garden. I don’t do any job-related work. I read. I nap. I watch movies. I nap. I listen to music and I nap.

Sometimes, if the weather is really nice, I feel a little guilty taking a Veg Out day. But those unwelcome feelings usually don’t last very long. Curled up on the sofa with my doggies, my book and a good cup of coffee, I feel the stresses of the last few weeks slowly and peacefully melt away, recharging my batteries for the days ahead.

War

I was watching a news report on a soldier who just returned from the war in Iraq (yes the war that officially ended two years ago). He was describing the constant fear of being ambushed or killed by a suicide bomber. He talked about how he worried about his soldiers, his soldiers’ families, and his own family. What would happen to them if he died? His son was only a year old, “he would never remember me” he whispered, his eyes filled with tears. He’s going back to Iraq in two months. He’s going back to the place he called “pure hell on earth.”

The reporter asked him what this experience had done to him. He sat for a moment looking in to the camera, his face working to hold in the emotions that were streaming from his eyes: sadness, grief, fear, pain. “It has changed me” he said. “I know longer believe in happy endings.”

“War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good. We will not learn how to live together in peace by killing each other's children.” – Jimmy Carter

Think More, Drive Less

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a capitalist. I believe that companies should make profits. But frankly, I think it’s time that something is done about the price of gasoline.

Facts:

• The average price for unleaded gasoline is a dollar higher than the same time last year.
• ExxonMobil reported a $36.1 billion in profit for the first quarter of 2006, making it the largest corporation in the world and larger than the next four companies on the Forbes 500 list combined.
• Oil prices have increased 240 percent since George Bush’s inauguration in January 2001.
• ExxonMobil’s recently retired CEO received a $400 million (yes, I said million) “payment for services.”
• According to the Los Angeles Times (April 13, 2006), Exxon raised Chief Executive Rex Tillerson's pay by 33% last year to $13 million. (The average U.S. salary increase last year across the country was 4%).
• U.S.-based oil and gas companies have nearly 900 subsidiaries located in tax haven countries, such as the Cayman Islands and Bermuda.
• The industry has spent more than $500 million on lobbying activities since 1998.
• The industry gave more than $100 million in campaign contributions in federal elections since 1998.
• Higher gasoline prices have a “trickle down” effect on other consumer goods, making it even more difficult for working families to make ends meet.
• The greater the profits of oil companies, the greater the risk to our national security.

You make take issue with the last fact, but the reasoning is straightforward. Higher oil company profits go hand in hand with higher oil prices (now in excess of $70/barrel).

Higher oil prices result in the massive transfer of wealth to nations who wish us ill or fund the dissemination of hate filled propaganda against this nation and the West. High oil prices are the enabler of dysfunctional governments, tyrannical to their own and in an era of the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, increasingly dangerous to the world at large.

In addition to making these countries wealthier, what is it doing to the working families in America? It borders on criminal.

The Vigil

In the Middle Ages, an elaborate ceremony surrounded the conferring of knighthood. After certain rites had been performed, the candidate was conducted into his lord’s chapel, where he was told to keep a vigil until sunrise. He was to pass the night by “bestowing himself in visions and prayer.”

This ritual was vividly captured by artist John Pettie in a painting he entitled The Vigil. In it, a young armor-clad knight is seen kneeling before an altar. The light of dawn illuminates the dim aisles of the chapel behind him, but the knight doesn’t seem to notice that his vigil is over.

His weary face is still turned to the altar. His eyes have the look of one who has meditated at length on divine and holy things. His helmet and armor are laid on the steps leading to the altar, but he holds his sword in front of him. Its silhouette is the shape of a cross.

I love this painting for many reasons. Mostly, it is a romantic illustration of history. We all know that the Middle Ages were no picnic. It’s a fairy tale on canvas.

Grand Cayman Day 3-8

Too busy and too tired to post. I thought I could do it (post every night) but I was wrong.

Grand Cayman Day Two

The ocean is the most incredible blue-green color here. Crystal clear and calm. The weather has been perfect.

I walked alone on the beach tonight. The light from the moon was so bright, reflecting off of the white sand. The breeze was warm and soothing. After a long day of work, it was therapeutic.

I sat for a while and watched the moon rise high and though I am far from home, I did not feel alone.

The lyrics of a song played over and over in my head..

"Swim to me through the deep blue sea
upon the scattered stars set sail
Fly to me through this love-lit night
from one thousand miles away
And come into my sleep
Come into my sleep
As midnight nears and shadows creep
Come into my sleep"

I breathe the night air deep, and call it a night.

Grand Cayman Day One

3:00 a.m. alarm....time to get up and get ready to go to the airport. :( Decide to bath my dog Taz as it appears he has gotten in to something during the night that smells very bad.

4:15 a.m. depart for local airport.

6:00 a.m. depart local airport for Atlanta (at this point I've had nothing to eat or drink and I'm thinking I'll get some coffee on the plane, right?)

7:30 a.m. arrive in Atlanta (got nothing on the plane). So I head for the international terminal and locate a Starbucks. (Halleluia!)

9:30 a.m. Depart for Grand Cayman. The flight was uneventful except for the B.P. sitting next to me (see previous blog posting). Got a itty bitty bag of pretzels and a ginger ale. I read most of the way and got really sleepy...but just as I was about to fall asleep....

11:45 a.m. Arrive in Grand Cayman.
As soon as I stepped off the plane, a blast of hot, humid air hit me like Dallas in July. Can you say HOT? The airport is teenee tiny, but quaint. After standing in long lines to get through customs, I got a lift to the hotel.

Much of the island still has the scars left by Hurricane Ivan. There was tremendous damage to the vegetation. Fortunately, it is beginning to return its former lushness. However, there are still a lot of palm trees with no palms.

I arrived at the hotel, checked in to my room, and immediately had to leave for a meeting. And that's what I've been doing all day. I got a brief glimpse of the ocean from a hallway window.

7:30 p.m. I've been awake for 17 hours. I decided not to have dinner - I'm just too tired. So, I'm back in my room. There is a steel drum band playing down by the pool. I like steel drums. Sounds like Jamaica. The breeze on the balcony is relaxing. I think it's time for a bubble bath and some serious sleep.

8:00 p.m. Now they've added real drums (base, snare, etc.) to the steel drums.

8:30 p.m. I've decided that I no longer care for steel drums.

9:00 p.m. A little steel drum goes a long way.

disclaimer: spelling, punctuation and grammatical errors may be caused by the sleep deprivation of the author and should not be used to judge her general intelligence.

Grand Cayman, B.W.I.

I'm heading to Grand Cayman for a business trip. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking..."tough business trip" right? Actually it will be, for me. The other 265 attendees will hopefully have a great time.

I'll be keeping a travel journal here and will try to post every evening about the day's adventures.

Here's a link to the Cayman's website. It really is a beautiful place.

http://www.caymanislands.ky/

The Blame Game

Whatever happened to personal accountability? It seems as though our society has become a society of “blamers.” Everything bad that happens is someone else’s fault.

If I eat fast food five times a week and become obese, it’s the fast food company’s fault. If I smoke and get lung cancer, it’s the tobacco company’s fault. If I place a steaming hot cup of coffee between my thighs and then spill it on myself, it’s the store’s fault (how dare they make hot coffee)! If I get drunk in a bar and trip and break my leg going out the door, it's the bar and the wine company's fault (as well as the door-frame maker, the shoe-maker, and my parents for passing on the Clumsy Gene).

The parent blames the teacher for the student’s poor performance. The teacher blames the school system. The school system blames the Board of Education, and so on. The CEO blames the CFO, the CFO blames the auditors, the auditors blame the accounting department, etc.

We’ve become a society of finger-pointers. Whenever anything negative happens to us, we look for someone to blame, or worse, sue. The personal injury lawsuit phenomenon is a multi-billion dollar industry. What disturbs me the most is that we’re raising a generation of children into a world of “victim thinking.”

When we don't accept responsibility and our kids see that, then they think they don’t have to accept responsibility, and the cycle continues right up through the highest levels of our government.

What's going to happen if this trend continues to get worse? I don't know, but don't blame me when it happens.

Eye on the Sky

Spring has sprung in the South, and with it, the typical outbreak of violent thunderstorms and tornadoes. This time of year, it’s not uncommon to have a couple of tornado warnings a week. Warm air from the Gulf of Mexico collides with cold air from Canada, and before you know it, your house is in another state.

Savvy Southerners have created tornado shelters in their basements that serve double duty as a wine cellar. That way, when they have to spend a couple of hours hunkered down in a basement – at least they can enjoy themselves.

Last week, we had a “super cell” storm in the area that spun off several twisters. I was home alone and spent an hour in the basement with the bare essentials: flashlight, blanket, dogs, plain M&Ms, book, cell phone, lip gloss, and weather radio. It was a little scary, but for the most part, not too bad.

Unfortunately, some people aren’t so lucky. Also know as “The Finger of God” these storms can be devastating and deadly. But unlike earthquakes in California, at least you know when a twister is coming (which is a Southerner's excuse for not living in California).

Today however, the weather is divine. The sky is blue and the grass is green and the trees and flowers are blooming like crazy. This brings up another topic – pollen – which I’ll discuss in another exciting edition of Beyond the Blue.

It is Time

The night was black velvet, full of stars. The snow was deep and soft and the purest white. The trees limbs bowed under the weight of it. But the light of the full moon reflected on the snow, making everything seem half-lit, like a pale blue dream.

I stood beside the road in a long red coat and boots, with a white scarf wrapped around my head. The night was so still I could hear my heart beating. I waited.

From a distance, I heard a horse galloping. Out of the dark, the Messenger appeared. He rode a beautiful black horse and wore a hooded cloak of fine grey wool, leather gloves and boots. He reined the horse to a stop beside me. Its powerful breaths sent billows of warm air in to the night.

The rider reached inside his cloak and removed a fold of paper. As soon as the message was in my hand, he kicked his horse and without a word disappeared in to the forest.

I turned over the paper. A beautiful red wax seal adorned it. Embossed in the seal was the image of a tree. The tree was surrounded by a circle of vines. Above the vines three birds flew towards a crescent moon.

I gently folded the paper until the seal broke in half. Carefully, I opened the page.

Inside were three words, written in black ink from a quill.

I hate to complain, but....

I don't know about you, but I think airplane travel has become a bit of a testy experience these days. The amazing thing about the decline of the flying experience is that it is neither the fault of the airlines nor of the federal government. OK, it's mostly their fault, but the biggest problem for me lies with our fellow passengers, and you know the people I'm referring to.

These are folks who wait until they get to the head of the security line before they start fishing around for their boarding passes and IDs. I call them bad passengers, or "BP" for short.

The BP is clueless at the X-ray and metal detector. They never know what to place in the X-ray machine, so let me answer all of their questions right now. Yes, your shoes have to come off (hint: wear shoes that are easy to remove and put back on). Yes, you have to take your jacket off. Yes, you have to take your laptop out of the case. No, you don't have to put your folding money through the X-ray machine, but if you do, the security officials can declare it a tip. No guns. No knives. No razors. No fingernail clippers. No scissors. How hard is that?

Once they get to the gate, the BPs continue their mayhem. Carry-on bags are supposed to be… carried on, but some insist on dragging onboard a duffle bag that's large enough for a whole cadaver (vs. a partial one). Then they wrestle their gi-normous sacks into the overhead compartment and consume all available space. Sometimes BPs don't even use the overhead space by their own seats but selfishly take the overhead space near the front of the plane. I think that if anybody puts their luggage in your overhead space, you have the right to look through their stuff during the flight and help yourself to whatever you want.

Since the airlines no longer serve meals, they allow passengers to bring their own food on board. This is all well and good, but if you are going to pack in your own food, you should make it as non-offensive as possible for the rest of us. All I ever pack for the trip is a granola bar. If I can't go for four hours without eating more than a granola bar, I have a problem. However, I've been seated next to BPs who pulled garlic and Limburger sandwiches out of their carry-ons.

How do you spot a BP? They are easy to find. They're always seated right next to me.

Ode to Casual Day

I love to wear my jeans to work
I get so much more done
If I could wear them every day
this job would be more fun

In fact, I think my pjs
would make work days so fine
I’d even like to go so far
as not to start ‘til 9:00

Southern Spring

Spring is arriving in the South. The daffodils and bright tulips are blooming everywhere. The plum, pear and apple trees are clouds of pink and white. Along the roadsides, the fragrant purple wisteria vines hang in beautiful grape-like bunches. The yellow bell-shaped flowers of forsythia shrubs are electric mounds of color.

If you grow up in a place that doesn’t have the four seasons, you really miss out. I would prefer that there were only three seasons, Spring, Summer, and Fall. Winter is my least favorite, although a crackling fireplace and a cup of hot cocoa can change my mind about that.

Winters in the South are not nice. We usually have a lot of rain (instead of snow) so everything is cold and soggy. The other day it was pouring rain and the temperature never got above 35 degrees. Just a few degrees lower and we could’ve had a real snow day.

The reward, however, is the beautiful flowers and blooming trees that announce that….ahhhhhh spring is here (which brings up a topic to be discussed in another post – tornado season)!

When Ice Melts

I was alarmed recently by a news story about the melting of polar ice and the impact this could have on the world’s oceans and weather patterns. So I did a little internet research, and got even more alarmed.

http://www.cbc.ca/story/science/national/2006/02/15/sea-ice060215.html

This phenomenon is being blamed on global warming. 2005 was the warmest year on record. Ocean temperatures were also the highest ever recorded. Greenhouse gases and the melting of the polar ice cap are primarily to blame. Warmer ocean temperatures mean larger, more destructive hurricanes.

With every month that passes, we're given increasing information to motivate us, to embrace renewable energy. Here are three of those compelling reasons:

-Americans use 30% of the world's oil supply yet only 2% of that comes from our own soil. By embracing renewable energy, we can significantly reduce our dependency on foreign oil.

-Renewable energy and conservation projects create 300% more jobs than the construction and operation of new traditional power plants of equal costs.

-With every mile that we drive our gasoline powered cars, we send 1 pound of CO2 into the atmosphere.

We need to reduce our 'ecological footprint' which is the measurement of what we consume and the 'footprint' it leaves on the earth.

Americans make up only 4% of the World's population yet we consume nearly 26% of its resources. Americans spend more annually on the purchase of garbage bags than the combined GDP of 90 of the World's developing nations.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe in balance – I’m not an environmental activist. But I also believe that we have a moral obligation to do everything we can to reduce our own ‘ecological footprint.’

Scientist have determined that by the end of the century there will be no more ice on the North Pole. Sea levels will rise. Some species will become extinct. I believe it’s time for all of us to take a serious look at our own excess and do everything we can to preserve our planet for our children and future generations.

Relaxation 101

Bubble baths aren't just for kids. A nice, hot bath is a great way to relax and unwind. For that reason, I personally take several a week.

Here's how:

1. Turn off cell phone.
2. Lock the door to prevent intruders like kids or dogs.
3. Stop the drain in the tub (duh).
4. Light aromatherapy candles. Choose lavender to relieve stress and sandalwood to relax.
5. Turn on the water and adjust the temperature to your liking (I like it HOT).
6. Pour bubble bath into the running water.
7. Allow the bathtub to fill with water and suds.
8. Turn off the water when the tub has filled. Replenish hot water as needed (which you will have to do if you stay in there until your skin pickles, like I do).
9. Slowly enter the bath water, feet first (you don't want to bump your head).
10. Breathe deeply and relax.

Tips:
Try putting on a little background music to help you relax. I usually listen to classical music or smooth jazz.

You can also add essential oils directly to the bath to keep your skin soft.

It helps to have a little "tub pillow" that rests on the back of the tub so you can literally take a nap if you want.

Don't forget your friends Ben and Jerry. (A bottle of Cabernet isn't too bad either!)

Meet My Dog Taz

He’s a bad, bad dog. Oh, don’t be fooled by that cute little teddy bear face and those innocent black eyes. He’s a devil.

You see, Taz is a “special” dog. He is very sensitive. He gets really upset when his mommy has to go to work. So, he eats the house – the baseboards, the sheetrock, and the door frames. Taz’s vet prescribed a form of doggy antidepressant for him. It didn’t really help. We had him neutered, but that didn’t help either.

Taz likes to run around in tight circles until he cracks his head on the coffee table. He likes to jump off the end of the deck and bark at birds and squirrels. He’s deathly afraid of cats. Taz loves to climb on furniture like a goat. He eats things that were not meant to be eaten such as sticks, plastic, and wood. Taz does NOT like for anyone to touch his tail, and if you put a leash on him, he freezes as though he is paralyzed and will not move a muscle, until you remove the leash.

Still, you gotta love him. Who could resist a face like that?

The Vine That Ate the South

Can you find the house in the photo? Having trouble? It is easy to spot if you are from the South. Believe it or not, there is a house underneath all that Kudzu vine.

Kudzu was introduced to the United States in 1876 at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia. Countries were invited to build exhibits to celebrate the 100th birthday of the U.S. The Japanese government constructed a beautiful garden filled with plants from their country. The large leaves and sweet-smelling blooms of kudzu captured the imagination of American gardeners who used the plant for ornamental purposes.

During the Great Depression of the 1930s, the Soil Conservation Service promoted kudzu for erosion control across the Southeast. Hundreds of young men were given work planting kudzu through the Civilian Conservation Corps. Then in 1953, the U.S. government stopped advocating the use of kudzu, because they began to realize how invasive it was, not to mention almost impossible to kill!

The climate of the Southeastern U.S. is perfect for kudzu. The vines grow as much as a foot per day during summer months, climbing trees, power poles, and anything else they contact. Under ideal conditions kudzu vines can grow sixty feet each year!
_________

Bored yet? Ok, I know. This was a lame post. I can't be brilliantly entertaining EVERY day. :)

A Walk in the Woods

When I was growing up, every weekend (weather permitting) my mother would take her children for “a walk” – all six of us. She would drive us out to the middle of nowhere, park the car and off we would go. Sometimes it was obvious that we were trespassing (because of the “no trespassing” signs) but my mom, determined to get us out in nature, ignored the obvious.

Often we would walk so deep in to the wilderness, that I wondered how we would ever find our way back. But we always did. And almost every time, there was something incredible waiting for us in those cool, primeval places – a waterfall, a cave, a hidden clearing, a field of flowers, or a secret, glassy lake. My mom seemed to have a special knack for finding natural treasures.

But the real purpose of these walks (which were really hikes) was to learn about the plants and trees and animals that we would see along the way.

My mother could identify every tree, every flower, every creature. She would show us how to tell the oak from the birch, the maple from the elm. She would point out the ferns and wildflowers, mushrooms and moss. She would show us where to look for arrowheads and fossils. She would reveal to us the differences in the rocks and minerals. My mother could always find the wild fruit as well – blackberries, blueberries, persimmons, scupanines and muscadines (large, wild grapes that are most delicious).

I remember how quiet the woods were. Sometimes we would hear the rushing creek, or the wind in the trees, or a Mocking Bird upset by our presence.

What my mother’s walks did for us was to connect us to nature in a real and endearing way, and to illustrate the beauty of the circle of life. To this day, I would rather be deep in a forest, than anywhere else on earth.

The naturalist John Muir wrote:

"Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life."

I Hate Clowns

I have a serious clown phobia. The technical term for this is coulrophobia. I’m not talking about just disliking them. When I say phobia, I mean, I hate clowns. I don’t know exactly when the true phobia began. I never liked clowns as a kid, but something happened to me around 18 years old, and the dislike, turned in to terror.

Maybe it was Stephen King’s book, IT, which featured a demonic clown who lived in the sewer system and ate little children. Or, maybe it was the clown doll in the movie Poltergeist, which hid under the bed and attacked a little boy. Or, maybe it’s just the fact that they’re creepy…with their painted on smiles and white faces.

Whatever the cause, they make my skin crawl. They scare the woohoo out of me. Evidently, I’m not the only person who suffers such distress.

Check out www.ihateclowns.com and see for yourself!