The "Hello, Ball!" Top Five of Golfing

5 concepts from golf that, when applied to LIFE,

make sense (to me):

1) Always greet / acknowledge those in front of you.

2) It doesn't matter how great your follow through is, if your preparation is inadequate.

3) A good connection is critical.

4) Never underestimate the need to stretch before AND after.

5) Just because you wear the shoes & glove, buy the equipment & drive the cart, you are NOT automatically a "player"

This Movie Makes Me Smile, Just So You know

For many people, watching "It's a Wonderful Life" (IAWL) each year is one of the high points of their Christmas experience. Missing it feels criminal, and if you're a movie buff (NERD) like me, you delight in parroting lines along with the movie in your best Jimmy Stewart / Donna Reed imitation.

There's just something about this little gem... Some critics say that it smacks of Frank Capra's typical sappy storyline devices ("Capra-corn"), while others say its too somber and dark-- bordering on Hitchcockian / noir in certain scenes, with the combination of stark set decoration, lighting & cinematography. Me? I agree with both perspectives, but I confess that my favorite reason for loving this movie was the countless times I ended up watching it with my Father, during the holiday season of 1992, which was his last. The copyrights for the movie had expired, which caused an airing orgy the likes of which we had never seen before. Nearly every channel on the dial (to use an old skool term) seemed like they were taking advantage of the unrestricted air-ability of the movie & opted to show it AT LEAST once-- many airing it more than once-- often more than once in the same 24 hour period! And to my Dad and I-- both movie buffs (NERDS), the opportunity to endlesslyy view a beloved classic as many times as possible delighted our nerdy hearts & gave us no end of pleasure. At nearly any moment, we could spin through the channels & find George Bailey-- saving his little brother, confronting Mr. Gower, dancing with Mary Hatch at the prom, or muddling through the joys of suburban fatherhood. During a time when Dad's health allowed for little more than the energy to watch tv, it was a blessing to have an old favorite handy nearly 24/7. The closer we got to Christmas that year, the better we both also began to memorize the dialogue. Soon, we were able to spin whole scenes back & forth between us, and to the disgust of the rest of the family, would interject lines into almost any conversation-- whether it related to the topic or not. IAWL was like the Magic 8-Ball for comic relief-- need a line? Then give IAWL a shake & an appropriate line would pop up and be your "answer".

Its been fifteen years since Dad passed away, but I remember our IAWL mania fondly. I own two different copies of the movie on tape, and have thought about buying it on DVD for better clarity. The casting, costuming & sets are classic-- the dialogue CAN wax cheesy, but that's part of the charm as far as I'm concerned. The final analysis is, I love this film. I love the many messages it promotes, and the way they play out...

The roots for this post were planted in a really nice conversation last night which got me thinking back on the subject. The fruit of the discussion was the knowledge that more happy blogging is ahead of me. The idea shouldn't have surprised me, but after all of the months of mental fugue state that have plagued me during the last year, it felt good to know that my mind, my life & thought processes are rounding a bend of sorts. "Hot DOG!!!"

Wait for it...

YES!!!! Yes, yes, YES-- Laura is posting her NINTH bit of wisdom. Brace yourself, Effie-- its really happening!

For those of you who were wondering (or who didn't know, but care regardless), I had yet another appointment with my opthamologist (Dr. Larzo) in Morgantown today. On the heels of my neuro appointment there Monday, this follow up dealt with the findings of the last few neuro tests (all essentially non-noteworthy in and of themselves) & discussing a plan of action. Got there for my 9:45 appt, sat in the lobby until almost 10:45, then sat in an exam room alone until 11:30 (NOT the usual experience there, to give them credit). After the nurse's check and administration of the goofy drops, I then sat in the wait-for-your-eyes-to-bug-out-lounge (as I call it) until noon. Then I got to meet faux doctor-in-training Something McConnell (personality of a bed pan), who lugubriously examined my eyes: in passing, he had FASCINATING ears-- Walt Disney could have named a cartoon character after him...

THEN, the doctor came swooping in (at 12:30) with blond uber-student doctor in tow-- he apologized for the delay, reviewed my latest labs / results, and took pleasure (I felt) when he turned, looked at me in my gooned out eyes, and said, "It sure isn't any fun being an enigma, IS IT??"

To which I said, "No-- unless JAMA wants to pay me for me case history, then NO."

The outcome was the decision to drop from 20MG of prednisone (which I've been on since March-- the longest stint to-date) to 10MG. The thought processes being that he wants to see how I respond to LESS pred (since I've lost ground lately on exactly the same dose that worked before... The logic is that we can see 1) how quickly things go south with my vision (anyone wanna place bets?), and 2) when I DO tank out, I'll be almost weaned off of the pred and can move quickly to the NEXT ugly steroid they want me to try-- supposedly, it has "different" side effects than the prednisone. Like WHAT-- sprouting horns & a penchant for dancing the hora at a moment's notice??

No matter the outcome, I made lemons outta lemonade, as is my wont-- I ate a hella good Steakhouse burger from BK (hush, my WW friends, HUSH), reveled in the beautiful weather driving home, enjoyed several nice phone calls from pals checking in on the appointment, then did some just-because-I-wanna shopping along the way. I deserved it after this freakin' week, dammit!

I'll keep you all current on how the weaning process (my doc kept referring to it as such-- way too many lactation & boob images floated through my head, making it hard to maintain eye contact with the guy) goes.

Until then, grab the hookah, smash some dishes & give a resounding "Hoppahhhhhhhhh!" as you cavort in spritely circles-- Laura's home, child-- Laura's HOME ~

Eight is Enough

It is with, dare I say it, pride that I present you with an EIGHTH post in less than 60 days-- my FOURTH this month alone. Who knew I still that kind of bloggin' juice in me?

Today's post should be light-ish, but could veer towards the profound-- here's ample warning for those of you who are looking for only one extreme or the other, 'kay?

**waiting while the fickle sort themselves out & depart**

Referencing my "Natives are Restless" post (scroll down-- it ain't that far back), it would seem that the prednisone beast has once again reared its ugly head and has me sleeping 3-4 raggedy hours per night. With that noted, I'll share that I haven't been to sleep before 1AM for several nights, and for then past two mornings (+ today) I had little problem hauling my fanny out for my morning constitutional because I was already coming to life before the alarm went off at 5:30. But this morning I had a little extra help-- help (at 5:12) from a gentleman who mistakenly (read here: drunkenly) called my cell phone by mistake, looking for someone named Karen.

ME: "Hello?"

GUY:"Hey... Karen there?"

ME: "Ahh... I'm sorry-- I think you've dialed the wrong number."

GUY: "Thisss ain't Karen's phone?"

ME: "No... its not."

GUY: "Wull, wass YER name, then?"

ME: "NOT KAREN." **click**

I no more than threw myself down to try and catch another hopeful 15 z's when at 5:20-something, a text message came through... Normally, I wouldn't have even heard it, but Karen's prince charming had already awakened me. The text was from my workout buddy, prompting me to get my slacker can outta bed already so that I wouldn't have to later confess to failure to launch. So I sent a reply, grabbed my sneakers and geared up, feeling victorious.

Because I got an slightly earlier start than usual AND I got a really good walk/jog in, it was also earlier than usual when I RETURNED-- which led me to make the one fatal mistake my sleep-deprived brain knows not to make: I laid back down & didn't reset the alarm (this was at 6:48). NOTE: I'm usually in the shower by 7-7:10 at the latest.

Woke up again at 7:53. S-H-I-T.

I hit the ground running, managed to throw down a cup of coffee & shower in record time, and glided into the office at 8:58-- only 30 minutes later than I usually arrive (by preference, not mandate). And after being off last Monday, having to devote all of Tues/Wed to helping finish our HUD grant application, and knowing I'll be off again tomorrow to go to Morgantown, I had more than enough drivel sprawled on my plate & awaiting my tardy self. As I hammered away at the sundry bits and pieces, per usual I found time to wax philosophic about some of the effluvia that's been shunting around my brain in recent weeks / months. In addition to the "Pride" and "Examination of Self" posts, another concept that has been much on my mind has been the word "Enough."

Who exactly determines what enough even IS? Legal standards aside, isn't the very idea of something (or someone) being found to be "enough" utterly arbitrary and subject to whim & personal bias? How do we decide how much food is enough (asks the girl who's still learning that lesson)? How much exercise? How much money? How much intimacy? How much work? How much play? How much sleep? How much intelligence? How much independence? How beautiful do I need to be in order to be "beautiful ENOUGH"-- enough for WHAT? I though back to last night when I was inspired to snap some candid self-portraits with my new camera phone-- I must have tried 50 different angles, different lighting, different backgrounds & locations-- only to reject 99% of the results. The saddest thing is, I have absolutely no clue by who's standards I was rejecting & deleting my results. And for all the anger and criticism I was heaping on myself, I am no closer to knowing why those shots weren't "good enough"...

The upshot of this lively internal monologue was a mystic crystal revelation. One of those self-evident truths that you would think a gal of almost 37 might have long since stumbled across by this point in her journey. It is feeling of confidence in the value of ME as a whole, that I really AM a worthy kind of girl, and that sitting back and fine-tooth-combing myself for flaws was pointless. I LOVE ME-- warts and all-- and dammit, so should anyone else. This epiphany was a complete turn around from the usual 1am / two beers on board / single gal melancholy that typically preys upon one... No one will EVER be "enough" according to most human standards. But are most humans ready for my special version of ENOUGH? Only time & tequila will tell ~

Pride & Prejudice

Brace yourselves, possums... Laura's been THINKING again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k04KzgYRKrE

The latest subject that's been buzzing around the windmills of my mind is the subject of PRIDE. Of course my first instinct was to zip over to my go-to urban gristmill, Wikipedia, to get a feel for what the fevered masses have to say on the subject. And as I suspected, the camps are pretty evenly divided on the merits of pride: if it is good (or destructive), has a use (or is pointless), and what the pros and cons might be of being found to be "proud"-- but "only in the best sense" (thank you, Jane Austen).

Per Wiki:

Pride is a lofty view of one's self or one's own. Pride often manifests itself as a high opinion of one's nation (national pride), ethnicity (ethnic pride), or appearance and abilities (vanity). Pride is considered a negative attribute by most major world religions, but some philosophies consider it positive. The opposite of pride is humility.

The long and the short of this is, where does Laura fall on the pride sliding scale? Overall, I was raised to believe that pride, in moderation, was a good thing indeed-- you should be proud of your accomplishments & good works, but should not strive to attain them (success / accomplishments) from self-serving motivations. One of my favorite quotes of all-time is from Miss Manners: "It is far more impressive when others discover your good qualities without your help." Its one thing to be proud of what you do / have done-- but it is tantamount to a crime to toot your own horn in self aggrandizement (the search for "greatness or power"). Have I followed that advice to a T? Hell to the N-O. But it wasn't until I attended a public meeting this evening where a community organizer asked our neighborhood association membership, "Who here wants to be powerful?" that I brought my recent ruminations to a head. Every person who answered the question gave disclaimers-- We want to be powerful, but with limits / purpose. Me? I responded, "I AM powerful already." I didn't say that from an over weaning need to brag-- but if you had been there, you would have understood how condescending the woman's tone was, and why I felt the need to reply thusly. But it did trigger thoughts about the inner conflict I've been having of late-- trying to determine if I use pride as a shield instead of a crown.

The genesis of my recent mental pride parade was the realization that the quest for / the rejection OF, and the feverish need to preserve personal pride is the poison (say that 10 times fast) that keeps us from becoming more self-actualized humans. "What will they say if I _________?" "What will happen if I DON'T _________?" Humans spend far too much energy holding onto it, quashing it (or fostering it) and worrying about it-- quality of life becomes secondary in the effort.

And of course, I also had to hold the idea of pride (and its prioritization) against my favorite litmus tests-- are we talking nature vs nurture, male vs female, what?

Don't worry-- I'm not going to give you a blow-by-blow fallout of what got things rolling... This IS one of my personal battles, and the verdict is still out s to whether I've won the war, or simply the latest battle. But if this post does nothing more than get ya thinking right along with me, than I can call myself a success. And I'm more than OK with that ~

Some Funny Du Jour

For those who know (or don't), my cats Harpo & Stella are both black kitties-- this fun pic was sent by my brother... You don't think he harbors some not-so-secret disdain for his furry niece & nephew, eh?

Too odd that Barb also posted a black kitty cartoon today as well-- its a siiiiiiiiiiign!

Then I learned about THIS fun site: http://failblog.org/ Spent almost an hour laughing, wincing & enjoying the pics-- some I'd seen, but most were new to me. Enjoy!

Top Ten List

It has come to my attention that I have not posted a Top Ten list in many a moon... In order to honor that observation, I present you with my latest top ten list of "Phrases I Never Imagined Hearing / Uttering" (all within roughly a 10-day span)-- I leave it to you to decide which I proclaimed, and which I heard:

1. "Sorry for the interruption... problems with Asia."
2. "I had to wait 96 years to have my very first car accident."
3. "Please assure him that I would NEVER offer a friend grey sludge-- brown, maybe-- but N-E-V-E-R grey."
4. "Is it an innie or an outie?"
5. "I'd like a #1-- but with orange juice, not coffee-- OJ goes better with hash browns."
6. "Does Bacardi mix well with Diet Mt Dew?"
7. "For some reason I'm getting one in the morning AND in the evening, and I don't know why..."
8. "Its official, I AM a farmer-- call the FFA!!"
9. "If a crack ho' falls down in the alley, does she make a sound?"
10. "Does she have a favorite kind? EPT? Clear Blue Easy... what?"