Monday, August 25, 2014


                  The Eulogy

     It seems to me that eulogies should not be wasted on funerals; they should be delivered while we are still alive, well and clickin’. I gave my very first one this month, and it got me thinking.

     If someone delivered a eulogy about me, what would I want the person to say? There’s a scary thought - one that should be savored on the throne, on top of a mountain or looking up at a rainbow. If you have never thought about this, please know it’s not a topic for the feint of heart. (Check blood pressure and heart rate before starting this process.)

     When we think about this question, it begs others such as: what is my life’s purpose? what have I accomplished? do I want people to remember me for what I did or for who I am? am I someone worth remembering? have I done enough to earn praise? will the people listening see through the good stuff and be saying to themselves, “Yeah but, remember when she . . . ?”

     I have given this some thought, and here’s what I’m hoping they will say about me:

  1. She was always “up”
  2. She was kind to everyone
  3. She was selfless
  4. She accomplished all she set out to do
  5. She loved her family and friends 
  6. She was generous to a fault
  7. She contributed to society
  8. Her spirit inspired others
  9. She touched lives
  10. Her children will carry on her positive mission
  11. She will leave a hole in the world

     Well, looking at the list, I am two for eleven. I think the problem with eulogies is that everything is in the superlative. For example, who is always up? “Always” is not realistic. I don’t care how damned good-natured you are, there will be some times that you are just downright mean and ornery. So “always” wreaks of hyperbole.

     Everyone “contributes to society.” The question is what did the person contribute, and who cares? Did he contribute by putting out his trash everyday or inventing the non-skid stiletto? 

     What’s “generous?” Is it the guy that buys a round of drinks at the bar? Is it the person who contributes $10,000 a year to charity but can’t afford to send his kid to college? Is it the person who is always there when you need him?

     If a person accomplishes all she set out to do, maybe her “to do” list had only three things on it:  wash hair, make bed, clean up dog poo. 

     The biggest question is: Who decides that the person has accomplished all these things? The person writing the eulogy? The person’s kids? The Big Guy? If it’s the latter, how did they get a hold of Him? Is He partial to Apple (as it did cause some problems way back when)? Food for thought.

Sunday, August 24, 2014



                                               Whoop and Holler or Weep and Wallow?

     Are you a better reveler, wallower or obsessor? I have earned a PhD in all three through the years, but I prefer reveling, even though I probably spend more time in the other two categories.

     A recent blogger friend, Sybil Solomon, discussed the concept of “wallowing” this morning. 

     “The question is—how long do you wallow? Most of my issues only require 2-24 hours for me to vent, cry, scream or withdraw and get to the other side. Then I can begin to consider how to get resources or work out next steps to move on. Major issues take longer. I once heard that a crisis only lasts six weeks. After that, it is a way of life and you need to develop the strategies to function and deal with it. That doesn’t mean you have accepted it, integrated it or forgotten it. It simply means that you are putting one foot in front of the other.”

     My wallow foot seems to kick up its tendons more easily than my “revel” appendage. As much as I love to revel in success, good luck or a happy day, my reveling seems to evaporate quickly into the cosmos, and the bad shit shows up again, the wallow worm wigging its way into my psyche.

    Some guru on Ted Talks the other day said that for whatever reason, we seem to latch onto the negative. That’s why the media’s “If it bleeds, it leads” seems to attract us and attach itself to our daily filters. I am refreshed by the segment on the NBC 6:00 news that focuses on a refreshing, positive story. There are so many of these, but reveling doesn’t sell viewers or readers.

     Somewhere between graham crackers and spelling in first grade, they need to teach children how to process. They need to learn from a very early age how to separate positive from negative and how to somehow latch onto the good and revel in it instead of getting buried in the bad and wallowing. Think about it. A temper tantrum is a mini-wallow. A six-year-old’s birthday party is a super-revel. Hopefully, the kid will remember the birthday cake, not the fact that he didn’t get an I-phone 28 for his birthday.

More theories about wallowing, reveling and obsession to follow.

                                                     ADVICE I HAVE HEEDED

Saturday, August 23, 2014

A South Carolina woman was arrested Monday after allegedly hitting a man she said “passed gas” in her face.
Jessica Cerney, 33, told police that 64-year-old Darrell McKnight came home drunk at about 7:45 p.m. and farted on her visage while she was lying on the couch, according to documents obtained by The Smoking Gun. Furious about the blast, Cerney left the house, but says McKnight followed her outside.
An argument ensued that allegedly resulted in McKnight approaching her in a “threatening manner,” and Cerney allegedly punching McKnight in the face three times.
McKnight was taken to a hospital for a swollen eye, while Cerney was not injured, according to WBTW.
Both people were charged with disorderly conduct fighting.

I am not sure which is more shocking: a man farting in a woman’s face or the fact that this made national news. Are you effen kidding me? It begs the question: is this more uplifting than reading about war casualties? This woman obviously felt that she was being attacked. At some level, I can relate.

When little boys are raised, their mommies must teach them that it is normal and fitting to pass gas whenever and wherever. I didn’t think the rule applied to “on whomever,” but over the many years of living with men, I’m not so sure. How can we fault clueless children? It is the mothers who were to blame. Little girls, at least in my day, were taught that this natural biological event was to be done in private and there was a certain amount of shame attached to it. The thought of allowing this to happen in public was unheard of, and heaven help us if there was any sound involved. 

In my family, my father announced “the latest report” with abandon. My sister and I would groan and run to another room. My mother just laughed. In my experience with men, I have discovered that not only is the event considered a non-event, it has become a source of great hilarity. (I do not find it the least bit amusing.)

Some men (I won’t mention any names, of course) choose to actually lift one cheek as though they feel that if they don’t, it may go back to its source and come out the other end. Some men choose to release their joy in closed vehicles or under freshly-washed sheets. Some women have been known to open car windows and shout at the tops of their lungs, “He FAHHHHHHHRTED!” This is not well-viewed in upscale communities. 

For those who have pets, I sympathize, as most men will blame the lab rather than take responsibility for his actions. Just once, I’d like to see some dog walk up to his master when accused and just let it rip right in his face. Based on the above story, however, this could turn nasty and they could both end up accused of methane madness. This would result in man and his best friend polluting our jails and poisoning their cell mates. Just sayin’.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Please watch this very short Ted Talks lecture. It will make your day and maybe even change your life!~


Thursday, August 21, 2014


Four-year-old to seven-year-old:  I just rode my bike all the way to the end of the driveway without my training wheels.

Seven-year-old:  I did that when I was 18 months.

Eleven-year-old to fourteen-year-old: I just got my first cell phone, and it has 29 games on it.

Fourteen-year-old:  I’ve had a cell since I was nine, and who only has 29 games? Lame.

Sixteen-year-old to twenty-something:  I just got my license, and I drove twenty miles by myself.

Twenty-something: Wow.

Thirty-something to forty-something:  We just got our first bonus check, and we’re heading for Switzerland.

Forty-something:  I bought this watch in Lucerne fifteen years ago with my first bonus.

Forty-something to fifty-something:  We sold our house in three days, and we made a killing.

Fifty-something:  We decided not to sell our house when we heard the mortage rates had increased 40%.

Sixty-something to seventy-year-old:  We are so busy in our retirement, we can’t find time to plan our next trip to Europe.

Seventy-something:  Who effen cares? I just rode my bike to the end of the driveway.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014


Quelquefois, je me sens grande comme un gratte-ciel
actuellement, je me sens comme une fourmie enterrée
Quelquefois, je crois être capable d’accomplir des projets impossibles
actuellement, je veux me cacher au-dessous de mon lit
Quelquefois, je peux voir tout ce qui est bon dans le monde
actuellement, je suis aveugle
Quelquefois, j’entends les chansons des oiseaux
actuellement, j’imagine le son des bombardements loin de chez nous
Quelquefois, je me souviens de beaux moments de ma vie
actuellement, je ne vois que la tristesse
Quelquefois, je suis joyeuse
actuellement, je cherche une raison d’être.

Sandra Moulin