Women who know their place...author unknown

WOMEN WHO KNOW THEIR PLACE Barbara Walters, of 20/20, did a story on gender roles in Kabul , Afghanistan , several years before the Afghan conflict. She noted that women customarily walked five paces behind their husbands. She recently returned to Kabul and observed that women still walk behind their husbands. Despite the overthrow of the oppressive Taliban regime, the women now seem to, and are happy to, maintain the old custom. Ms. Walters approached one of the Afghani women and asked, 'Why do you now seem happy with an old custom that you once tried so desperately to change?' The woman looked Ms. Walters straight in the eyes, and without hesitation said, "Land Mines." Moral of the story is no matter what language you speak or where you go:  BEHIND EVERY MAN, THERE'S A SMART WOMAN

Trying to make sure this posts

There are so many things to learn!!

Facebook | Janis Race-Bigelow

Facebook | Janis Race-Bigelow

Thanks to Bonnie S for forwarding - The Class Reunion

THE CLASS REUNION

Every five years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it'll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail.

I'll never forget the first time we met;
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.

It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone thought it was swell.

The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.

The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.

No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.

The boy we'd decreed 'most apt to succeed'
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted 'least' now was a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.

They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least..
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.


They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
You never saw so many thighs.

At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we'd all gone to pot.

It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.

By the fiftieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.

And now I can't wait; they've set the date;Our sixtieth is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, they've rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.

Repairs have been made on my hearing aid;
My pacemaker's been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled, and my teeth have been boiled;
And I've bought a new wig and glass eye.

I'm feeling quite hearty, and I'm ready to party
I'm gonna dance 'til dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun; But I just hope that there's one
Other person who can make it that night.
Author Unknown
Life is Wonderful.
Don't forget it!----





I think this speaks for itself.  Hope all my classmates are holding their own

This is fun

I don't know if you will actually see the movie...this is a test

This is a test

Passing of an Era

Sad is all I can say about the little 88 Ford Ranger.  It was like a family member.  For me it was like a close friend.  It took me to places I had always wanted to see.  It moved me around through many states.  It was old and beatup...you would be too if you had survived 2 teenage drivers plus a traveler...and was 22 years old.

Born in January of 1988, the truck came into my possession with 34 wonderful miles.  I fell in love with it and made every payment for 5 years.  It was a trooper.  The things that truck and I shared is amazing.  Now, after 22 years, it decided to lay down and throw a fit, or a rod as the mechanic said.  Now it becomes a donation to Kidney Kars, a local organization that helps kidney patients, and is a tax deduction for me.

I do get to keep the license plate (Utah CM8819).  That has significance because I had a baby, got divorced, and bought my truck,  - talk about stressful!  But 1988 was a good year and it was the beginning of a great adventure.  A 22 year adventure.

But like all things temporal, the truck had to stop running sometime.  It went far beyond it's life expectancy and it was a 'good old truck'.  Thankfully when it died (on the Interstate no less), no one was hurt..It just kinda gave out its last breath.

So, now we have to look for something to fill the gap...maybe...because for sure it can't be replaced.  I just hope that I can find the title!!!

Talking

The hardest part of growing up is talking.

I really thought I had learned how to talk as an infant.  Then I had to learn to write so that what my brain thought, I could put down on paper instead of out my mouth.  I know that I know a lot of words.  I use lots of them everyday.  BUT, I have also learned that there is a difference between talking and communicating.


I can talk to lots of people.  I do it everyday.  Most of the time it means little.  The normal 'elevator talk' is such that I don't remember half the time what I even said and to whom I said it.  Then there are the 'rounds'.  I make those every work morning to check in with people and catch up on work issues.  Sometimes family issues.  Sometimes just gabbing.

Then there is family.  They don't appreciate my efforts of surface talk.  They want to actually have me sit down, look at them, and converse with them.  No, I'm not kidding.  For them, the chat mode is not acceptable.  But chat mode puts distance between me and those around me.  My family wants more.  They want me to participate in their lives in a different way than I participate with people at work.

When I listen, I can't have anything else on my mind.  Imagine, trying to process only one thing at a time!  I am not good at this.  I have tried to analyze it, but it comes down to, I am not sure that I want to hear what is said.  Although I may be successful in many areas, I am still sensitive to 'not being good enough'.  I may hear it over and over, but there are still scars from younger years of 'not being good enough.

I am not sure writing it helps, but maybe that is better than just keeping it inside.  I don't have a picture for this one.  It would be a storm of internal conflict that I had hoped had worked itself out years ago, but it hasn't.  Guess it one of those things that I keep hoping I can outgrow.  Maybe I will never outgrow it.  Maybe I just have to grow into it...can't hurt to try.

Portraits

I do not often find a picture of myself I can look at for any length of time.  My son, Jon, took this and as I cropped and played with the color, I decided I could look at it for a while and share it with others.

Why is it that finding a pictures that tells a story about myself is hard?  I usually and looking through the camera, not on the front end of it so I just don't have a lot of practice.  I am highly critical of photos I take anyway, so looking at myself is hard.

Then, too, I am getting older.  I have several years and a few extra pounds that I just hate putting in front of a camera that adds to both.  But then, what is reality if not a picture of life.  I will let this one stand.  It really symbolized where I like to be and what I like to be doing.  Hopefully I can put more up on my Facebook site and other places, but that would mean I would have to get out from behind the camera and I don't know how comfortable I am doing that.

Hum.