Source: Sensual Starfish
Pamela Druckerman, author of “Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting” shares 20 Lessons she has learned in her 40′s upon turning 44. Here’s a few nuggets from her article in the NY Times: What You Learn in Your 40′s:
3) Eight hours of continuous, unmedicated sleep is one of life’s great pleasures. Actually, scratch “unmedicated.”
4) There are no grown-ups. We suspect this when we are younger, but can confirm it only once we are the ones writing books and attending parent-teacher conferences. Everyone is winging it, some just do it more confidently.
7) Emotional scenes are tiring and pointless. At a wedding many years ago, an older British gentleman who found me sulking in a corner helpfully explained that I was having a G.E.S. — a Ghastly Emotional Scene. In your 40s, these no longer seem necessary. For starters, you’re not invited to weddings anymore. And you and your partner know your ritual arguments so well, you can have them in a tenth of the time.
11) More about you is universal than not universal. My unscientific assessment is that we are 95 percent cohort, 5 percent unique. Knowing this is a bit of a disappointment, and a bit of a relief.
12) Just say “no.”
14) Do not buy those too small jeans, on the expectation that you will soon lose weight.
Read entire NY Times article here.
I know. I know. I am a handsome devil.
Image Credit: Paul Meriweather
dk: Lately or average?
dk: Bit testy, no? Ice cream and pasta.
G: Do unto others…?
dk: Come on Father. I can’t believe we’re all created in your image.
G: Do unto others…?
dk: Oh for G…Sakes. (Sorry) Some of them deserved it.
dk: No. Closer to celibacy. Desert here Father. Monk. Parched.
dk: Mostly. Yes.
dk: OK. OK. There’s work to be done here.
G: Be sure you wear your thermals.
G: And, don’t forget your tuk and mittens.
Ben & Jerry’s releases four ice cream flavors with gooey ‘Core’. The four new flavors are:
- Hazed & Confused: chocolate and hazelnut ice creams with fudge chips and a hazelnut fudge core
- *That’s My Jam: raspberry and chocolate ice creams with fudge chips and a raspberry core
- Peanut Butter Fudge: chocolate and peanut butter ice creams with mini peanut butter cups and a peanut butter fudge core
- Salted Caramel: sweet cream ice cream with blonde brownies and a salty caramel core
Source: NY Daily News
* DK favorite. Thank you Rachel. Exactly what I needed.
Where’s Caleb on Hump Day? Merzouga, Morocco. Here he’s posing with his friend before a long walk in the desert…
Source: Russell Bevan
12” snowfall overnight. DK working from home.
SK: Are you going to shovel the driveway?
SK: (Eye roll) You’re going to let me do it? Again?
DK: I’ll do it this afternoon after I finish my calls.
SK: No you won’t.
DK: Are you going to keep riding me on this all day?
3” of additional snowfall overnight.
SK: Are you going to shovel the driveway?
DK: No. Not before work. I’m not showering again.
DK: Just leave it until I return tonight. It will warm up and melt.
SK: Really? You’re kidding right? (She heads outside to shovel.)
DK: I told you to leave it. (She has this Thing about a clean driveway)
SK: How do you plan to get out?
DK: Get out of the way. I’m going to ram through the piles with the car.
DK ventures outside to clear the back steps. SK opens the door.
SK: Why don’t you use the steel edger/chopper to break the ice?
DK: Oh come on. Really? I’ve shoveled show before. Get inside.
SK: OK have it your way.
(Mumbling. Girl telling Canadian how to shovel snow. What’s next?)
I get after it.
I bend the show shovel trying to break the ice.
I lean on it to try bend it back.
I look through the back door to see if she’s watching.
Coast is clear.
I stomp through the snow to get to the garage to get the steel chopper.
I start slamming the ice.
On the third swing, I hit concrete.
Cold, vibrating steel.
Shooting, stabbing pain in my lower back.
Air whooshes out of my lungs.
I fall to my knees. (Dear God help me.)
SK: What’s wrong?
DK: My back.
SK: You’re joking, right?
DK: Does it look like a joke? (I crawl upstairs to bed.)
SK: (Laughing) Do you see any irony here?
DK: No. I don’t actually. None.
DK: I do see you getting enormous pleasure seeing me keeled over in pain.
SK: Oh, come on. Big Man clears 2-steps. I shovel massive piles of snow. (Still laughing)
DK: Stay away from me. Way back.
Snow forecast 3″-5” tonight.
Last Wednesday, this Man is walking down a Brooklyn street as two snow plows pass by. The action is recorded on an auto dealer’s security camera. ”Pedro, who was looking at his feet as he walked along the snow-covered sidewalk, says he had no idea the wave of slush was headed his way.” The force of the snow also broke the window of the dealer.
Following the brutal knockdown seen half a million times on the Internet, Pedro says, “I wake up and just go home.”
Pedro said he hadn’t heard from the city — and may file suit after the smack down. The unleashing of an avalanche of snow on an unsuspecting pedestrian is “not safe,” Pedro said. “It’s a problem.”
Source: NY Daily News
I bet you didn’t know…that Caleb is ticklish!
When I carefully consider the curious habits of dogs
I am compelled to conclude
That man is the superior animal.
When I consider the curious habits of man
I confess, my friend, I am puzzled.
— Ezra Pound
Ezra Weston Loomis Pound (1885 – 1972) was born in Hailey, Idaho and was an American expatriate poet. During his stay in London in the early 20th century as foreign editor of several American literary magazines, he helped discover and shape the work of contemporaries such as T. S. Eliot, James Joyce, Robert Frost and Ernest Hemingway. His political views ensure that his work remains controversial; in 1933 Time magazine called him “a cat that walks by himself, tenaciously unhousebroken and very unsafe for children.” Hemingway nevertheless wrote: “The best of Pound’s writing – and it is in the Cantos – will last as long as there is any literature.”
I resolved that at 30 I would know more about poetry than any man living, that I would know what was accounted poetry everywhere, what part of poetry was “indestructible,” what part could not be lost by translation and – scarcely less important – what effects were obtainable in one language only and were utterly incapable of being translated. In this search I learned more or less of nine foreign languages, I read Oriental stuff in translations, I fought every University regulation and every professor who tried to make me learn anything except this, or who bothered me with “requirements for degrees.”
For more: And this is why women live longer than men…
My journey from NYC westward continues. A five hour non-stop flight has morphed into a surreal 2 day experience with stops at JFK (with 2 plane changes), LGA (with full airport evacuation), Detroit and Chicago. This is the last leg of the journey. (Prior posts for this trip are referenced below along with the post dedication.)
The 45 minute hop from Detroit to Chicago was quiet. No chop. A Quiet cabin. Light snow was falling in Chicago carpeting the catering trucks and the luggage carriers. A slender, stoop-shouldered man guided the aircraft in. His hoodie was covered in snow. His fluorescent batons offered a soft illumination. It’s feeling a lot like Christmas Eve. In February.
The City that works. The Machinery was humming this evening. Plows. Sand trucks. Baggage handlers. Crew. De-icers coating the aircraft in a lemon colored bath. A beautiful orchestra. All to get us somewhere safely. I’m feeling gratitude.
My Son was born here. In Chicago. I burroughed deep and back to find a moment. Susan is pulling him on a red sled to greet me as I walk home from the train station returning from work. His chubby cheeks are red. His hair is matted and wet from layers of clothing. His smile…a lighthouse beacon. His arms reaching up. “Dada! Dada!” I reach down to grab him. I hold him close. I can feel his warm breath on my neck as he nuzzles. I miss my son often. And especially when I’m tired. Like now. When the aching just won’t stop.
Cheryl found me eerily calm during this journey. I had many hours to contemplate why. She no longer covered my business and left about the time I started blogging. This hobby. This community. This labor of love. This stringing of words together and having someone actually care to read it. A miracle drug. It stills and softens the mind. It injects peace where none formerly existed. Albert Camus said “In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.” This. THIS allows me to turn away from the world.
My finger lingers over the Publish button. The cabin is dark with the exception of a handful of us hunched over our screens. 35,000 feet in the air, my wireless icon is flashing. I’m wired.
It’s a miracle. All of it.
Me. Family. Our dog. Friends. You, yes you, reading this. This iPad. My Eye sight. This plane flying. Pizza. (I’m famished.)
All of it.
Too big to figure out.
Too important not to find a small corner of it to call my own.
My finger hovers over the Publish button again. Proof read it again? Is it too much? Is it over the top? Is it good enough?
Friend, you’re asking yourself the wrong question. The only question that matters to help you decide if you should hit Publish:
Is it a miracle?
Same trip – related posts:
- Just another manic Monday
- Star Log: Flight DL2282. The Epilogue.
- Flight Log DL1131: Y.C.M.T.S.U.
- Flight Log: Motor City USA
This post is dedicated to Shara who worked tirelessly behind the scenes to book and re-book flights, get seat assignments, and keep me moving forward to my destination at all hours of the day and night. Thank you Shara.
My journey from NYC westward continues. A five hour non-stop flight has morphed into a surreal 2 day experience with stops at JFK (with 2 plane changes), LGA (with full airport evacuation) and now Detroit. There are still two legs to go however let’s camp out in Detroit for a moment. (Prior posts for this trip are referenced below.)
Heading to MotorCity USA.
We are descending on a gentle, clockwise turn into Detroit Metro. The pilot touches the giant bird down – a 30 ton sparrow gliding into her feathered nest.
I catch myself humming a tune from one of Detroit’s finest: Seger.
I think I’m going to Katmandu,
That’s really, really where I’m going to.
If i ever get out of here,
That’s what I’m gonna do.
I step out of the jetway at Detroit Metro Airport. It’s gleaming. Lined with wine bars, a Spa, a Suishi Bar and a Online Café. My lungs are pulling me to the aromatic L’Occitane En Provence body soaps drifting onto the walkway. I’m traipsing through a meadow in the South of France.
I’ve lolly gagged over to Gate 38. My flight leaves from Gate 30. Plenty of time.
Then. I stop.
I’m in the Delta Terminal. I missed my connection from Detroit due to delays out of NYC. Shara re-booked me on American Airlines: DET – CHI – West. Yes, another painful connection via Chicago but we’re advancing.
I’m in the wrong terminal. My heart is racing. This “miss” is on me.
I need to take a shuttle bus. The Blue Shuttle to the North Terminal.
I glance at my watch. 5:00 pm. Flight departure is 5:40. Still no shuttle. I’m rattled. Sweet Jesus.
I arrive at the North Terminal. 5:20. Agent states that the final gate call has been made. “You need to hurry.” I get through security and run to the gate. A-30. Last gate in the wing down a long corridor. Natch.
5 passengers are left to board. And 3 others hover by the desk…Wait List passengers hoping for no-shows.
I hand the Agent my boarding pass and my ID.
Agent: Sir, you are now booked on the next flight.
DK: Can you please check again?
Agent: Sir, you are on 8 pm flight. It’s right here on your boarding pass.
DK: Ma’am, I have a reservation on the 5:40 pm flight to Chicago connecting to another flight heading West at 8pm. The boarding pass is wrong. Please check again.
Agent: Sir, did you check in late at the ticket counter? Your boarding pass has you ticketed for the next flight. These other Wait List passengers are now entitled to a seat because you arrived late at the gate.
DK: (PAUSE) Ma’am, I don’t want to be difficult. Can you please do me a favor? It will only take you a minute. Check my flight connection out of Chicago. If I miss this flight, I miss my connecting flight. (I lean forward and whisper. She leans in.) Then, would you kindly check my mileage status and my lifetime miles on your fine airline? Then, I might suggest that you can make an informed decision whether or not to bump me in favor of these other passengers that didn’t have a confirmed seat.
The Waiting area passengers have been watching the show with interest. So what’s it going to be? The Rules or the pushy Mustachio Slav from NY.
The gate area is Silent but for the Agent tapping on her keyboard.
Agent: Mr. Kanigan, you’ll be seated in Seat 11c. Thank you for flying American.
Off we go to Chi-Town.
Same trip – related posts:
My journey from NYC to the West continues. A five hour flight is now rolling into 2 days and I’m still on the ground in New York. If you missed yesterday’s excitement, the posts can be found here: Just another manic Monday and here: Star Log: Flight DL2282. The Epilogue.
And, the journey continues:
- 10:00 am. Back in car this morning. This time to LaGuardia Airport. Gorgeous day. One would have no idea of the pandemonium caused by Mother Nature yesterday. (Feeling Good!)
- 10:50 am. Made good time. Head for Kiosk to get boarding pass. Message blinking telling me to see agent. (Nope. Not going to ruin my day today. Just a minor technicality)
- 11:25 am. Still with ticket agent. She’s struggling to issue a boarding pass for second leg of the trip. After 20 minutes of working it, she looks up sheepishly, grins, and says: “Why don’t you just have it issued at the gate in Detroit?” I stare at her. She can read me. “He looks like he’s on the edge. He’s smiling but he’s teetering. And any Man with the confidence to be wearing that grey streaky mustache, isn’t likely to be sold ‘The-get-your-boarding-pass-in-Detroit-B.S.-Story’ I’m selling.” Yet, The Man walks away shaking his head and mumbling. Agent breathes deeply…having avoided a sure fire confrontation with some crazy Slav looking mustachio.
- 11:35 am. I’m through security without incident with a vice grip on my driver’s license, watch and wallet. No bloody mishaps today.
- 12:00 pm. First call for boarding.
- 12:05 pm. Announcement blares on intercom. “All passengers, crew and employees must immediately evacuate the building. All passengers, crew, and employees must evacuate the building!” The reason: hit this link.
- 12:45 pm. Thousands rush back into the terminal and file through security check-in (again).
- 1:30 pm. Boarded flight. Plane 1/2 empty. Announcement explaining the delay: waiting for two ticketed passengers (tools?) to make it back through security after the evacuation. (This is NY people. This was a sputtering flare. Get on the damn aircraft.)
- 1:45 pm. We push back from gate
- 2:00 pm. Captain: “We have a problem with our Nose gear. We need to get a tow back to the gate to have our maintenance crew check it out. I’m sorry folks but we can’t fly without this fix.” (Nose gear is malfunctioning! Really? WTF. NFW. You need Nose Gear right? I then grab my nose and wonder if I need my nose hair clipped.)
- 2:15 pm. Waiting for tow. (2 flights out West from Detroit. I’ve missed my scheduled connection. Closing in on “timing out” of Plan B.)
- 2:30 pm. Jet engines powered down. And we sit. (You’re testing me People. You’re testing me.)
Note to Self: DK, they’re thinkin’ you’ve moved to fiction writing because you can’t make this sh*t up. (*Y.C.M.T.S.U.)
(All together now: “What fresh hell is this?“)
Source: Thank you Mme Scherzo
a many books < on my book shelf > and knowing…
No one. I mean no one, beats high-stepping Caleb in a foot race.
Don’t miss Caleb’s color commentary at end of the race.
The Lori’s, the Mimi’s, the Beth’s, the… (I can go on and on)…they weave words. Fine, beautiful, silky words. Effortlessly sliding around rock. Floating on air currents on a magic carpet. Drifting upward with red Helium balloons. And then. There’s me. Chopping. Hacking. Slashing. Racking my mind to find just the right word. Blow after blow of self-flagellation. It can’t be due to a lack of depth in (of?) vocabulary. (Well, maybe it is.) I do have a short list of magic words. I love them. Yet, I find it impossible to work them into a sentence. (Note to Self: In time DK. In time. You will work this list. It might be 3 yards and a cloud of dust, but you will cross the damn goal line. Yes you will. And yes readers, you will soon find these deep blog passages of mine “imbued with sparkle and élan.”* Oh, God. Help me.)
Bucolic In a lovely rural setting.
Conflate To blend together.
Demure Shy and reserved.
Ebullience Bubbling enthusiasm.
Ethereal Gaseous, invisible but detectable.
Evanescent Vanishing quickly, lasting a very short time.
Gossamer The finest piece of thread, a spider’s silk.
Halcyon Happy, sunny, care-free.
Imbue To infuse, instill.
Incipient Beginning, in an early stage.
Ineffable Unutterable, inexpressible.
Inure To become jaded.
Lissome Slender and graceful.
Mellifluous Sweet sounding.
Panoply A complete set.
Petrichor The smell of earth after rain.
Propinquity An inclination.
Scintilla A spark or very small thing.
Sumptuous Lush, luxurious.
Surreptitious Secretive, sneaky.
Woebegone Sorrowful, downcast.
- Photograph Source: Modified from Waltzing Matilda.
- Words Source: Thank you Anake Goodall For “The 100 Most Beautiful Words in English“
- “Three Yards and A Cloud of Dust” – Description of Ohio State Football Coach Woody Hayes philosophy
- * “Imbued with sparkle and élan” was lifted from Google Search.
And, January, 2014 is over next week.
Image Source: TheTimBurtonWorld
Caleb here…bringing you your Hump Day smile.
DO YOU SEE A SMILE?
Should I bring Dorothy Parker back?
Good answer. Here’s Dorothy:
WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?
10″ of snow. -16º F with wind gusts up to 24 mph from NNW.
BRING ME MY SAHARA!
Source: The Telegraph. (A Bactrian camel with a mouthful of snow at the zoo in Frankfurt, Germany)
if I was,
a wee bit bendy,
I could meditate
in her peaceful,
at her fine
And she stills
my racing thoughts.
I’m meditating in
~ DK (Not Mary Oliver)
Image Source: Your Eyes Blaze Out
Here’s Caleb with his profile view.
Susan tells me this Hump Day / Caleb thing is getting tired.
I say we are just getting started.
If you aren’t voting with your LIKES,
You are going to prove her right.
Source: themetapicture (Spotted in the window of a biology professor office…)
“The pictures were taken by veteran nature photographer Steven Kazlowski. The images were taken in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, along the Arctic Coast of Alaska. There are currently around 20,000 wild bears living in the Arctic Circle. That number could be cut by two thirds by mid century if the Arctic continues to warm due to climate change. In 2008, the US government declared polar bears an endangered species and banned all American hunters from returning from Canada with their trophies. Norway is the only country that has banned all hunting for the species, with Russia, Alaska and Greenland allowing native communities to hunt the bears as a food source.”
DON’T MISS Kazlowski’s other incredible pictures of the polar bears here.
Quote & Image Source: Dailymail.co.uk
Tap brakes. Slide on black ice under full control.
Never break eye contact.
Wag tail throughout.
Ensure ear flaps are fully synchronized.
Pièce de résistance?
Right eye blink in finish.
Source: Your Eyes Blaze out
Polar Vortex my a**. Getmeouttahere!
Appears Caleb is getting a bit testy on Hump Day. He could benefit from some Crest Whitening strips.
Source: David Stephenson
Train roll on, on down the line, (On a high-speed train going South)
Won’t you please take me far away? (To the tropics, far far down South)
Now I feel the wind blow outside my door, (Friggin’ Cold wind still blowin’)
Tuesday’s gone with the wind. (Give me gentle warm breezes)
Tuesday’s gone with the wind. (I’ll take hot and humid with no wind)
Train roll on many miles from my home, (To Miami, Hawaii or Costa Rica)
See, I’m riding my blues away. (And my blues are sure to drift away)