tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39946870688358389342024-03-04T20:12:48.696-08:00Basic Black Blogfor days that end in: why?)Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-86011527040760239732011-12-31T10:06:00.000-08:002011-12-31T10:06:02.226-08:00Why they get no respect!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIcm4sBmz0STRnccyRvEZHZ_hEn4S4676zmGZn1Dtx5s-8vp444v2waWfq-26dgA2OL5lOCfVITKJNqZU-AHgwZcSNNdFxE9Pe8f2nVr7twS-VVAPXrwRJ_0iB0Oun61NBii5y2PRPjwQ/s1600/Card%2526Envelop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIcm4sBmz0STRnccyRvEZHZ_hEn4S4676zmGZn1Dtx5s-8vp444v2waWfq-26dgA2OL5lOCfVITKJNqZU-AHgwZcSNNdFxE9Pe8f2nVr7twS-VVAPXrwRJ_0iB0Oun61NBii5y2PRPjwQ/s200/Card%2526Envelop.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"> <v:stroke joinstyle="miter"> <v:formulas> <v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"> <v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"> <v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"> <v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"> </v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:formulas> <v:path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"> <o:lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"> </o:lock></v:path></v:stroke></v:shapetype><v:shape id="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 135.9pt; margin-left: 0.4pt; margin-top: 0px; mso-height-relative: page; mso-position-horizontal-relative: text; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: text; mso-position-vertical: outside; mso-width-relative: page; position: absolute; width: 157.65pt; z-index: 251660288;" type="#_x0000_t75"> <v:imagedata o:title="Card&Envelop" src="file:///C:\Users\DIANAB~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"> <w:wrap type="square"> </w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">We usually discover them when we’re moving or cleaning closets. Magic boxes filled with cards and letters from family and friends. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Each card and letter a treasure with its personal message to no one but us. Ours alone to save and savor over the years.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">But, see, here’s the thing. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">How many envelopes have we thrown away over the course of our lifetime that contained something equally as special as the cards or letters they enclosed?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Now before you shake your head or turn up your nose convinced those envelopes were of no significance, think about this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Someone other than you handwrote your name. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Hey, we all recognize our own signature. And frankly, take it for granted every day.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">But think how you felt as a young girl pulling from the mailbox your first piece of mail hand addressed to you. Your name scrawled on the envelope big as life. Not your parents’ names. Your very own name.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Or how it felt the first time you saw that a boy wrote your name on a Valentine envelope. You held it in your hand knowing his fingers, hand and wrist had dipped and looped just to create your name as only he could.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">For a moment no one and nothing else had mattered to him. Only you as he spelled out every letter of your name. Again, as only he could.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">The connection is beyond the message on the card or letter. The sender has a motive for writing “Dear Sue” or signing with their name. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">An envelope is so much more. It’s like the person who wrote your name on it forever put your name in lights. Like on a huge billboard or neon sign on Broadway!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">What do we do? We rip it open and toss it aside while we go straight for what it had selflessly delivered.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Envelopes. Time to give them the respect they so richly deserve. Together, we can lick this thing! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">~ Diana</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!<o:p></o:p></span>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-73655048140080852292011-09-22T05:35:00.000-07:002011-09-22T05:35:05.319-07:00"why does this woman work?"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83AqFotqX3FqdWWAR_05yC2aPQR5alVqyp_4uQC425LPVUxx5ASNBpI9KhYwiMkLRxEEgSxcPt3e1y-7HTDsLIbfIztgE4GAxMGrZmR6gw3Q4uzJ9di0kHb46jbRwvtQdBP_b9H4TWloT/s1600/jackie3a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83AqFotqX3FqdWWAR_05yC2aPQR5alVqyp_4uQC425LPVUxx5ASNBpI9KhYwiMkLRxEEgSxcPt3e1y-7HTDsLIbfIztgE4GAxMGrZmR6gw3Q4uzJ9di0kHb46jbRwvtQdBP_b9H4TWloT/s1600/jackie3a.jpg" /></a>In 1975, the flicker of <strong><span style="color: red;">50</span></strong> birthday candles in the not too distant future, <strong><span style="color: red;">Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis</span> </strong>dusted off her resume’ and went to work.<br />
<br />
Did she have to? No. And, yes.<br />
<br />
No, because she had money enough to live extremely well.<br />
<br />
Yes, because money can’t buy “me” love.<br />
<br />
The former First Lady supposedly told a friend that she’d always lived through men. And she couldn’t do that anymore.<br />
<br />
The suggestion of another friend coupled with her lifetime love of books soon led her to a career as editor; a damn fine editor.<br />
<br />
Such a fine editor that she revised, corrected and updated some of her own personal thoughts and beliefs as well. Four months after <strong><span style="color: red;">John F. Kennedy</span> </strong>was assassinated at her side, she’d shared that her opinions depended on those of a husband. One might assume she carried that conviction through her marriage to <strong><span style="color: red;">Aristotle Onassis</span></strong>.<br />
<br />
But in an issue of <strong><a class="external" href="http://www.vanityfair.com/society/features/2011/01/jackie-o-working-girl-201101" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Ms. Magazine in 1979</span></a></strong>, the cover posing a question “<em><strong><span style="color: red;">Why</span></strong></em> Does This Woman Work?”, Onassis wrote, “What has been sad for many women of my generation is that they weren’t supposed to work if they had families… the definition of happiness: ‘complete use of one’s faculties along the lines leading to excellence in a life affording them scope.’ It applies to women as well as to men.”<br />
<br />
After tragedy and triumphs, as many aspire when we reach midlife, Jackie O. found happiness within. Though one might argue even she would have been at a loss for words to describe how much her two children filled her with pride and joy. She often said they were her most important responsibility in life.<br />
<br />
Bottom line, when her kids were grown and a man’s values no longer determined her own, Kennedy-Onassis discovered something that allowed her to feel <strong>vibrant</strong> and alive.<br />
<br />
Work. Work that didn’t feel like work.<br />
<br />
Work she loved. Love that worked. <br />
<br />
~ Diana Black <br />
<em>(content & grahic copyright diana black 2011)</em><br />
<br />
<em><a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/cant-buy-me-love/"><strong><span style="color: red;">Vibrant Nation!</span></strong></a></em>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-86819165460162265492011-09-09T07:18:00.000-07:002011-09-09T07:19:23.799-07:00Thelma & Louise: Who Knows Why<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSevys_IZn5UOfChRXqCIzsrS8V3CNTdku91b8_Ivo4HGvhF7YNfyDp2cO0xrRkUr38BUFN86pjQKn2KtpURBj4kEI1HuSFz9uf9yEcl6iJ-Va-k8OaACvBoq4DhS-TAR4LLyCaPtE7FB/s1600/Thelma%2526Louisebydianablack5a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSevys_IZn5UOfChRXqCIzsrS8V3CNTdku91b8_Ivo4HGvhF7YNfyDp2cO0xrRkUr38BUFN86pjQKn2KtpURBj4kEI1HuSFz9uf9yEcl6iJ-Va-k8OaACvBoq4DhS-TAR4LLyCaPtE7FB/s200/Thelma%2526Louisebydianablack5a.jpg" width="200" /></a>Did you see it coming? The end. Literally. You know, of <strong><em>Thelma & Louise</em></strong>?<br />
<br />
I didn’t. I still remember leaving the theatre a zombie.<br />
<br />
Two decades later, I lapse into that same shock and disbelief just thinking about the movie and those two characters.<br />
<br />
If the film has impacted your then or now self, <a class="external" href="http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2011/08/thelma-louise-the-last-great-film-about-women/244336/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3d9e0c;">check out</span></a> a recent article about its message and the lack of substantial women flicks these days. I won’t rehash the writer’s conclusions. They are well drawn and worth the read.<br />
<br />
But before you click away, I’m curious. Do you identify with either character? Is it Thelma? Louise? A composite? Or is it more like no way in hell does either realistically portray you or women in general then, now or ever!<br />
<br />
<em>Note: In case any of you tend to confuse the characters (okay, I’m really doing this for me!), a little refresher, <strong>Susan Sarandon </strong>played Louise; <strong>Genna Davis </strong>was Thelma. (You know, the one who got lucky with <strong>Brad Pitt</strong>. Ah, NOW you, I mean, I remember!)</em><br />
<br />
Well, having established who is who, back to that identity question. Personally, I’ve always thought of myself as the Sarandon character BUT with the name Thelma. (That right there says a lot about me and my split-personality.)<br />
<br />
Yes, the one who does NOT get Kickapoo high school’s alumni. Because she had something better. <strong>A teal 1966 Thunderbird</strong>.<br />
<br />
<br />
And, man, could that thing <em>fly</em>. Literally. <br />
<br />
But I'm still not sure <span style="color: red;"><strong><em>why...</em></strong></span><br />
<br />
~ Diana Black <em>(art copyright 2011 diana black – all rights reserved. no reproduction or use without written permission) <span style="background-color: white; color: red;"> </span><a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/thelma-louise-that-t-bird-could-fly/"><strong><span style="background-color: white; color: red;">Vibrant Nation!</span></strong></a></em>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-56936417266537115512011-08-31T09:27:00.000-07:002011-08-31T09:27:48.468-07:00why u r beautiful<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsINW1w8E_bpA1ryu1b_uK4GOUr8F1TxoD7OqAha-t-TIEkHbne8WsWsU3Qg_21UuVepsdLYYZsmO9awluLb9sKBQc0Qi4_1duwxMqt7AsnUewm_V6SdncZUBCtuxlB1PlHcG9Zq8x2ZP/s1600/mirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsINW1w8E_bpA1ryu1b_uK4GOUr8F1TxoD7OqAha-t-TIEkHbne8WsWsU3Qg_21UuVepsdLYYZsmO9awluLb9sKBQc0Qi4_1duwxMqt7AsnUewm_V6SdncZUBCtuxlB1PlHcG9Zq8x2ZP/s200/mirror.jpg" width="200" /></a>Seriously. Can you honestly say you are beautiful?<br />
<br />
Is it because your definition of beauty has changed over the years?<br />
<br />
Has your need to be beautiful lessened or increased?<br />
<br />
Is this you? You’ve suddenly blossomed into the vibrant woman you always wanted to be.<br />
<br />
Or are you still struggling with the image in the mirror on those rare occasions you find courage to face it?<br />
<br />
But, really, how much does “beauty” actually have to do with our lives? Is it just one of those overused words and ideals? Or is it the basis of all life? Of every woman?<br />
<br />
<em>“Beauty once seemed to me to be an accident of nature. …But now that I can see my life on my face, I realize we earn the way we end up looking. Time, it seems, gives us all a chance to really be beautiful.” – Ann Curry </em><br />
<br />
So, is it safe to say that beauty has nothing to do with physical perfection? That therein lies confusion?<br />
<br />
Perfection is often seen in terms of flawlessness and directly linked to beauty. Sure, that’s one way to look at it. But perfection as demonstrated by excellence is …<em> perfection!</em><br />
<br />
Can it be beauty is simply being the best we can be…physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually?<br />
<br />
So, let me ask again. <em>Are you beautiful?</em> And I don’t mean when you’re dressed to the nines. I mean right now. Where you are this very minute. In front of your computer screen. In your nightgown. Hair uncombed. Nails chipped.<br />
<br />
Do your lips have a slight upturn? Are your shoulders relaxed? Are you content to be reading about beauty and seeing yourself for the amazing woman you are? Does your heart flutter just a bit…falling in love with yourself all over again or for the first time?<br />
<br />
Not because you’re flawless. (There’s always room for improvement!) Because u <strong><em>r</em></strong> beautiful.<br />
<br />
~ Diana Black<br />
<br />
On <span style="color: red;">Vib</span><a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/r-u-beautiful/"><span style="color: red;">rant Nation!</span></a>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-42660984304143806082011-08-11T08:45:00.000-07:002011-08-11T08:47:13.897-07:00Why Women Boomers don't "beat around the bush!"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wAI9AT4IFaf7HugVpEnjUo3UYDS854s6JX3EjisuHO9WveDJO_T9ZQUOWQth9wx1dm42qf308Yd9DqUMBilb7HNSpnYz5vNH7Nd61_V-IYNT3u7mp4llVzklKONS44WZx5HkWfBddb2n/s1600/VNemaildianablack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wAI9AT4IFaf7HugVpEnjUo3UYDS854s6JX3EjisuHO9WveDJO_T9ZQUOWQth9wx1dm42qf308Yd9DqUMBilb7HNSpnYz5vNH7Nd61_V-IYNT3u7mp4llVzklKONS44WZx5HkWfBddb2n/s320/VNemaildianablack.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Please <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">carefully</i> read this short email thread (there’s a test!):<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #595959; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">The tree person was here this morning to look at the pine trees and give a quote.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in;"><span style="color: #595959; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Do you like them so far?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #595959; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Yes, I have estimates and they seem very nice. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> <span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">So, who do you think composed these emails? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> <span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">A. two males</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">B. two females</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">C. one of each<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">D. none of the above<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Bravo! Yes, the messages were written by two females! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Seriously, guys just don’t ask the hard questions when it comes to determining qualifications for removing 5,000-foot pine trees tucked between two houses in a densely populated area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not about whether the company is insured, bonded or licensed for longer than two hours. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Good grief, no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Why, </span>Boomer Women understand there’s no time to “beat around the bush” on matters of such importance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The following query is where the timber hits the ground. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Did the business rep:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level4 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Ring the doorbell and respectfully retreat to the edge of the porch?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> <span style="color: black; font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Say “please,” “thank you” and “yes, ma’am”?<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> <span style="color: black; font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Wear their hat with the brim in front and shirt neatly</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"> tucked in, and appear to be someone who </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"> invites their mother for Sunday dinner?<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">I haven’t confirmed this with my next door neighbor, but I’m confident she’ll choose a peach of a tree service.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">One where everyone concerned adheres to the best practices and strictest standards—professionally and personally—known to all of humankind. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">And where they report to the custodian of those principles weekly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;">Sunday at dinner. </span></span></div><div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><br />
</div><div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><em><span style="color: black;">~ Diana</span></em></span></div><div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><br />
</div><div style="mso-line-height-alt: 9.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Follow <a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/women-boomers-never-%e2%80%9cbeat-around-the-bush%e2%80%9d/"><strong><span style="color: red;">Diana's blogs at Vibrant Nation</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color: red;">!</span></strong> </span></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-72837294283023050272011-08-02T07:45:00.000-07:002011-08-02T07:45:04.011-07:00Why it's toodles to tofu!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6AHBgCS0__boXZ4MnQ7GWe0nhRgTdGpYmP2tEtqkEDT2m90FPRkYfnZ-ZJkgyLjaU2YsjTmGLPl8FDzGZVovesLY05SlmlD1BIXzECZlZ-N8TyW2kOIUhRRhJeyM5ytAFapkYx4rO5W1/s1600/dblackfiftease1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6AHBgCS0__boXZ4MnQ7GWe0nhRgTdGpYmP2tEtqkEDT2m90FPRkYfnZ-ZJkgyLjaU2YsjTmGLPl8FDzGZVovesLY05SlmlD1BIXzECZlZ-N8TyW2kOIUhRRhJeyM5ytAFapkYx4rO5W1/s400/dblackfiftease1.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Launching "fiftease!" to keep the fifties fun!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Got a suggestion for a future cartoon?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Please leave a comment, and if I use your idea,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'll give you credit for the inspiration!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Keep smiling, and pass the french fries!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dianablack.net/"><strong><span style="color: red;">Diana Black</span></strong></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: red;">Vibrant Nation </span></strong><a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/vibrant-women-its-toodles-to-tofu-humor/"><strong><span style="color: red;">Blog Circle Member</span></strong></a><strong><span style="color: red;">!</span></strong></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-3515085927826179202011-07-22T12:52:00.000-07:002011-07-22T12:52:46.816-07:00No Sissies Allowed!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvTSQOxSETWyDqquTHU5BMxby00emPTi7egsCdHOFnt-W8YfBnV7nQuA4lPBggcnZrgxRi_7t3XKFHLoQN8YvldQSe2OUYTWLXYf9XOVLtgqbeTKoVDQRXRB40bgzT-H8-yDbsL_ggwlx/s1600/VN2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvTSQOxSETWyDqquTHU5BMxby00emPTi7egsCdHOFnt-W8YfBnV7nQuA4lPBggcnZrgxRi_7t3XKFHLoQN8YvldQSe2OUYTWLXYf9XOVLtgqbeTKoVDQRXRB40bgzT-H8-yDbsL_ggwlx/s320/VN2.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><br />
<span class="messagebody2"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Sisters, 50 ain’t for sissies!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <em><span style="color: red;">Why?</span></em></span></span></b></span><br />
<ul><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Oily facial pores turn into lava beds beneath six layers of moisturizing products. <o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
<li> <span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Willowy waists expand into redwood trunks after one bag of movie popcorn.</span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Steel-trap minds unhinge at the drop of a…uh, what is it? Oh well, something or other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></li>
</ul><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Just sayin’ it takes courage to face and admit to being that ever-changing woman in the mirror.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Someone, somewhere, sometime made this profound statement: “</span></span><span class="txt">We admire a woman for the courage to show herself to the world as she is, and in the end it's the courage we find attractive.” Imagine we’d all like to thank this “unknown author,” wherever and whoever she is.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="txt">And also like to ask her if she always had the courage to show herself as she is. Or did it come easier after she reached middle-age. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="txt">Because in the big scheme of things, what’s a little dry skin? Or adding belt holes? Or…there was a third thing, but I forget.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="txt">So here’s to our fearless sisterhood, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">slathering as fast as we can.</i></b> <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="txt">Yet plucky enough to be good with however it plays out. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="txt">(Plucky. That reminds me, where are my tweezers? Or should I just break down and get the hedge trimmers?)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="txt">~ Diana Black</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="txt"><o:p><a href="http://www.dianablack.net/"><span style="color: red;">www.DianaBlack.net</span></a> </o:p></span></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/50-aint-for-sissies/"><span style="color: red;">Vibrant Nation Blog Circle Member!</span></a>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-70799206570113878172011-07-07T10:02:00.000-07:002011-07-07T10:02:20.036-07:00Why It's Hats Off To The Mature Woman!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLs08nnrn3P3AynY9EF0SeXqxqGzLh5BK0f1-wSYn1mstUa_B6vGJEhHXX-pQ_umfNpjYTTuLw8JfkJDczT0YIOgDB5erETjQtlXZUWTHe-peS1YWDIQjoOF-mBNhVdlCmO3Ah_gAJhT8G/s1600/beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLs08nnrn3P3AynY9EF0SeXqxqGzLh5BK0f1-wSYn1mstUa_B6vGJEhHXX-pQ_umfNpjYTTuLw8JfkJDczT0YIOgDB5erETjQtlXZUWTHe-peS1YWDIQjoOF-mBNhVdlCmO3Ah_gAJhT8G/s320/beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I don’t remember running into <em>BBC Woman’s Hour</em> psychologist Susan Quilliam when I stepped onto the Florida beach in my animal print swim top and black skirted bottom. But then, it was hard to see anything from under my wide-brimmed straw hat. <br />
<br />
Apparently though, she saw me. Or a reasonable facsimile. I’m basing this on her recent quote in the <em>Daily Mail</em>: “While mature women may effortlessly balance work and family life for 50 weeks of the year, when it comes to holidays even the most self-aware women may find their confidence slipping.”<br />
<br />
Come to think of it, maybe she was that bikini-clad number who glared at me as she executed a grand jeté across my flamingo beach towel, finishing with an arabesque as she caught a Frisbee with her buttocks. Or perhaps the young woman sunbathing on her tummy, topless, her “lungs” apparently filled to overflowing with salt-sea air.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Ms. Quilliam further implied that boosting the mature woman’s self-confidence on vacation is paramount. And as any mature woman knows there’s but one way to attain a goal as critical as that. It requires a plethora of…clothes, accessories and shoes.<br />
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The fact is, those items are <em>so</em> paramount, studies have been conducted. Online retailer <em>isme.com</em> discovered that over half of 50-something women pack, per trip, up to 10 individual outfits. Nearly 100% of those women then stuff their suitcase with 5 pairs of shoes. Add to that 5 handbags (the average most women claim to take on vacation), and you have the making of a stylish, senior sightseer.<br />
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Now this next part is just crazy if you ask me. Sixty-five percent of these women, at the end of their holiday, wore half of what they’d packed. What diligence it takes to return home with as little dirty laundry as that. And yet others described that as <em>excessive packing</em>!<br />
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Seriously, how’s a woman in her prime to feel good about herself labeled as an “overpacker”? <strong><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Why</span></strong>, it’s enough to justify her “accidently” mistaking someone’s swim top for a bookmark or stretching her legs at the most inopportune time.<br />
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It is, after all, so hard to see anything from under those darn big hats.<br />
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~ Diana Black<br />
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<a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/hats-off-to-the-mature-woman/"><span style="color: red;">BlogCircleMember Vibrant Nation!</span></a>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-41760441035665796552011-06-27T14:11:00.001-07:002011-06-27T14:17:01.275-07:00Why Woman's Work Is Never Done!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutKvPFAbEd-OGNWBznmprSL-Z__K3fc1CoUyQEyoYvwReohfESpSQdsgqNpacsZZXLyNr6R1n3p4m68ddtRKOQ6aq5-ADvSteSoWdM1pOxpdTPChh14yLDnFLJN7jLNFECEZS47IhVS0R/s1600/VNPoster2_edited-2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 288px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623010918922915698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutKvPFAbEd-OGNWBznmprSL-Z__K3fc1CoUyQEyoYvwReohfESpSQdsgqNpacsZZXLyNr6R1n3p4m68ddtRKOQ6aq5-ADvSteSoWdM1pOxpdTPChh14yLDnFLJN7jLNFECEZS47IhVS0R/s400/VNPoster2_edited-2.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, I log on to a free clip art site. Hmm, I’m thinking, maybe I’ll start by just typing the word “women” in the search box.<br /><br />Wow! Lots of great pictures! Women reading. Women talking. Women exercising.<br /><br />But it’ll take a month of Sundays to view all the photographs, and who really has that kind of time. Definitely need to narrow the search a bit. Did I mention I’m creating a photo collage of women of, you know, a vibrant age? No? Well, I am. Or was.<br /><br />Anyway, to tell the truth, when I looked at the first few pages under the broad (gotta love homonyms!) search, it was hard to determine if some women had yet reached the big 5-0.<br /><br />The next thought was what if I use a picture of a woman who isn’t at least 50? Of course the clip art is free and the woman photographed obviously provided the picture for use within public domain rights. So, no, I wasn’t worried about getting sued or anything. And anyone seeing the collage might question the age of certain women, but still that wasn’t my main concern.<br /><br />Face it, how many of us want our 49-year-old or younger countenance portrayed a day older than we really are? Seriously, not good.<br /><br />Kind of like when someone asks you when the baby’s due, and you’re not pregnant.<br /><br />Nothing would do but for me to search again. This time I precede “women” with a dreaded word. Slowly I type s-e-n-i-o-r. It results in four pages of pictures.<br /><br />Oh, I could have stopped there, but no. Still don’t know if the next search makes me feel better or worse, but I typed “older women,” and only one picture surfaced.<br /><br />I’m choosing to believe it is not because people do not wish to see pictures of older women. I submit it is because a woman runs the clip art site and refuses to use that label. (She was probably on vacation the day that one picture was added.)<br /><br />Bottom line, I thought the search was over. The product finished. Because just look at it, it’s indeed a vibrant nation of women, don’t you think? Yes, definitely vibrant.<br /><br />But, how do I say it… Now <strong><em><span style="color:#000000;">you’re</span></em></strong> reading this post. And I’m thinking, the reflection on your computer screen, yet another vibrant woman has appeared and should be included!<br /><br />Oh, woman’s work is never done!<br /><br /><em>(No clips or art were harmed in the making of this collage :>) </em></span></div><div><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></em></div><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">--Diana Black</span></em></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Follow on </span><a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/our-blog-circle/why-womans-work-is-never-done/"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">Vibrant Nation Blog Circle!</span></strong></a></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-63917740255738127382011-06-21T12:05:00.000-07:002011-06-21T12:12:20.875-07:00Why It's Matt & Me 4-ever!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLa4UHmLCTcnqu9uSi2bBtPF7px4tnP3Gj3Ta0fjSUD3bYIGpJlf6AlAXxXXVYhtmQYVCXZf_bKwIxtyNDObpRxfawvEOuiwBleBiDE3IAu98tmYGcJalNMhzMDSLzM71vON1kV0uiN8G/s1600/dianablackyogamatt.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 249px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620752722675294066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLa4UHmLCTcnqu9uSi2bBtPF7px4tnP3Gj3Ta0fjSUD3bYIGpJlf6AlAXxXXVYhtmQYVCXZf_bKwIxtyNDObpRxfawvEOuiwBleBiDE3IAu98tmYGcJalNMhzMDSLzM71vON1kV0uiN8G/s400/dianablackyogamatt.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He’s tall, dark and …100% rubber.<br /><br />Yes, I’m talking about my yoga mat, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Matt.<br /></strong><br />It was love at first plank. And trust me, I’ve been through one or three “Matts” in my day, so I know what I’m talking about.<br /><br />Naturally, at first I was leery, fearing yet another mat would dump me. After all, the number of failed moon salutations over the years was astronomical. And downward-facing dogs? They were never a “pawsitive” experience with those other mats. So, no, not this girl’s best friend.<br /><br />Then along came Matt.<br /><br />I’d heard Matt could handle a really hot woman. It’s true. Perspiration is no sweat. Matt lays there almost begging “Bring it on!” Another positive, going longer than 20 minutes is no problem for Matt, which is good as the classes I attend are generally over an hour.<br /><br />But, you ask, you’re over 50, don’t you worry Matt will leave you for a younger “yogini”? Sometimes. So, here you have it. When we’re not together, I tie Matt up. I use my yoga strap so it looks innocent enough, like you know, I’m just trying to be neat and keep my yoga gear in order.<br /><br />So far Matt hasn’t complained. That’s right, Matt has no opinion…<em>and </em>could care less about the TV remote.<br /><br /><em>-- Diana Black<br /></em><br />Now a Blog Circle Member! Read it at </span><a href="http://www.vibrantnation.com/?p=49928"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"><strong>Vibrant Nation</strong></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>!</strong></span> </span></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-27086388044745526702011-06-13T09:07:00.000-07:002011-06-13T09:25:32.909-07:00In Why's Defense<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJmzWwhrT4ONTpvEJvzCbPyusYuoEHqxP9I7Q4YdQpMbBil0bytuLI6sgHf3vOtuf5DyEEcyKQA2-tjvyC9EjIAkv1VVzsGme8I9oohQ1ZbBfpBYGuo__Fs2P5DjYUCR5FYuNdrI1L77R/s1600/dylan.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 181px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617738627191617522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJmzWwhrT4ONTpvEJvzCbPyusYuoEHqxP9I7Q4YdQpMbBil0bytuLI6sgHf3vOtuf5DyEEcyKQA2-tjvyC9EjIAkv1VVzsGme8I9oohQ1ZbBfpBYGuo__Fs2P5DjYUCR5FYuNdrI1L77R/s400/dylan.jpg" /></a><div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>* Why did we meet that Kroger shopper?<br /><br />* Why did we hear that NPR interview?<br /><br />* Why did we win<strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"> Bob Dylan</span></strong> concert tickets?<br /></em><br /><em>Why, <span style="font-size:130%;">why</span>,<strong> <span style="font-size:180%;">why?<br /></span></strong></em><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s</span></strong> “Theirs not to reason why…” (<em>The Charge of the Light Brigade</em>) might suggest there are times it is irresponsible to question why. Example: in defense of country.<br /><br />But a closer look at events that inspired Tennyson’s poem—half a league’s attack during the Crimean War—begs the question: Why should we <em>not believe</em> the men silently reasoned why?<br /><br />Or, maybe the more important point to explore is this: Is there a "right" why and a "wrong" why? Or a right time and a wrong time?<br /><br />Once you’re actually riding into the valley of Death, you may already want to have the “whys” pretty much sorted out and resolved. Just sayin’.<br /><br />Before that charge, though, that’s the time to reason why. So that when the big day comes, we know who we are, how we got there, and what really matters.<br /><br />Problem is, today we seem to have it all turned around. First, we ask <em>what </em>matters; then we ask <em>how</em> we go about getting<em> what</em>. But the thing is, forget <em>how</em> we get <em>what</em>, we never asked “why” <em>what </em>matters. (Is there a “who’s on first routine” emerging?!)<br /><br />Again, just sayin’, might we ask ourselves <em>why</em> meeting that shopper seems special; <em>why</em> that interview sparks our interest; <em>why</em> tickets to a Dylan concert makes our heart sing.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQ5kDYqBDKSxKOytGb4-emLUOhBfs6h3f9pcM1GTMv1YfXZ2O8Jx3EVGbefJsmJJV96ndqFq9MUmhlVaachF_fshBWIT2_OIpDh0Ao26C1hxwm6Haguq6iBMnunvSxoCM9at0vPNBHeKB/s1600/humor4+copy.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 99px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 147px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617738438034763554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQ5kDYqBDKSxKOytGb4-emLUOhBfs6h3f9pcM1GTMv1YfXZ2O8Jx3EVGbefJsmJJV96ndqFq9MUmhlVaachF_fshBWIT2_OIpDh0Ao26C1hxwm6Haguq6iBMnunvSxoCM9at0vPNBHeKB/s400/humor4+copy.jpg" /></a><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Why?<br /><br /></span></em></strong>That’s the leftfielder’s name.<br /><br /><em>- Diana Black </em></span></p></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-3522711685100065822011-05-26T07:53:00.000-07:002011-05-26T08:20:48.375-07:00That wallpaper! WHY?!?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You know how it is. You’re excited to move in a new place, still you notice <strong>LITTLE </strong>things that bug you <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">A LOT</span></strong>, and you swear in a couple weeks, okay, maybe a month, you’ll have them whipped into shape. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">WHY</span></strong>, you ask yourself, would <em>ANYONE</em> live with, for example, that <strong>wallpaper</strong>? Outdated? Ha, that doesn’t begin to describe it. You dare say downright repulsive is more like it.<br /><br />Now, hypothetically, let’s imagine the above scene taking place in, oh, 2006. In the fall.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTb7cn4JZrsIyQiVKTNn41NHLO74sfc5qGRX7xBX00RMwlg0BDDrL8dPRySzuFed_iSvTEgYTwjM5vKEVbWB6ZPIvjXMCNVnlWuURoT4N3X4RDPcmzsOgeaZHL1rT1oeFYANTqrATJbK3/s1600/Gabaths2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 197px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611039639153959762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTb7cn4JZrsIyQiVKTNn41NHLO74sfc5qGRX7xBX00RMwlg0BDDrL8dPRySzuFed_iSvTEgYTwjM5vKEVbWB6ZPIvjXMCNVnlWuURoT4N3X4RDPcmzsOgeaZHL1rT1oeFYANTqrATJbK3/s400/Gabaths2.jpg" /></a><br />Summer 2007: well, the AC needs work, and new deck furniture would be nice so you can enjoy your beautiful backyard.<br /><br />2008: election year and you need to vote.<br /><br />2009: who can remember.<br /><br />2010: the house exterior could use a fresh coat of paint, and lord knows, you have to keep up with the Joneses.<br /><br />Spring 2011: <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">YOU CAN STAND IT NOMORE</span></strong>! You are out of control. You sponge bathe at the kitchen sink because you can’t bring yourself to enter <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2SAHxqDizdV228lDVHiJUeOFksB8X8couU3cAREdrssW23YZYcPNBP8i5PJDS6dQCZK9PZ7SDXkV5k1peunfHrBrYGt3JpveHWfy8v6QO-1wtfpWxdsQNeCGcuJIU4YvfdEb0nvu_VJZ/s1600/Gabaths1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 234px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611039534631697282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2SAHxqDizdV228lDVHiJUeOFksB8X8couU3cAREdrssW23YZYcPNBP8i5PJDS6dQCZK9PZ7SDXkV5k1peunfHrBrYGt3JpveHWfy8v6QO-1wtfpWxdsQNeCGcuJIU4YvfdEb0nvu_VJZ/s400/Gabaths1.jpg" /></a>either bathroom. The service station down the street refuses you the restroom key even when you argue there’s no sign limiting number of uses by one individual, or family.<br /><br />So the transformation of both rooms is sanctioned. It’s the best of times; it's the worst of times.<br /><br />You and your sister spend amazing time together and have funny new stories in your repertoire. The rooms look amazing, and really, the worst of it? You have a little less money in your bank account, and there’s only that one associate at Home Depot who issued a restraining order.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"><em>Why?</em></span></strong><br /><br />That’s blog for another day…<br /><br /><br /><em>~ diana</em></span>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-21015161755445722872011-04-05T07:18:00.000-07:002011-04-05T08:15:31.729-07:00Why Use That Word?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSvUKPip8oTZS2v6ACrrPJNWpRVGR2i1-CtapCrY54tBEvv217BbjmCbseDHt2JVFl91bkWqiKiDM7flbF5ejf5LaQsXy237qg472dutGW52E4SBGCiq22YCpAmvv7BRRxgDycP7KjMvv/s1600/yellowpansy2+copy.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 164px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 144px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592116426200934946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSvUKPip8oTZS2v6ACrrPJNWpRVGR2i1-CtapCrY54tBEvv217BbjmCbseDHt2JVFl91bkWqiKiDM7flbF5ejf5LaQsXy237qg472dutGW52E4SBGCiq22YCpAmvv7BRRxgDycP7KjMvv/s400/yellowpansy2+copy.gif" /></a> <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4fPhVrxajFd1WQtLC5u-GEmgQkLwCfP3DNRawpQcNl4AXPBHx8Ygh7ef6lbLkBf_fW34gRYo5QKPuhBrkaTHmtzElkmCvI1qcLqhV-hVxIDeImgODmVNyd-gXprySNA6U35m4AW1-mdG/s1600/why.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 435px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 617px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592115188135552754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4fPhVrxajFd1WQtLC5u-GEmgQkLwCfP3DNRawpQcNl4AXPBHx8Ygh7ef6lbLkBf_fW34gRYo5QKPuhBrkaTHmtzElkmCvI1qcLqhV-hVxIDeImgODmVNyd-gXprySNA6U35m4AW1-mdG/s400/why.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82F6GUmlYUEKIXGPoqdcrL0VnDJXPKL6xPwQFneTAsJKQWOKN092mRSfwRcx9eVBhH9BWE-92BVIBss6abgv8Er7dcQuEXyX_bdWPbDMdRpeRPZy4EPutDSXDvBzT9hse90U2WsluCDOl/s1600/why.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0LF5om4A9YFXfKDx2fVXsnje1yPu13Ka5a-tsHzZibGWQ4k0AIBbIXJQF4UcTnBe_6hc1aNZ_nLalGabDmIoX4nT2cEFKs3s_QsqpKGYvZeMecsMEVsIw6OYyEiLWOMrplvkroOUNmwv/s1600/why.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Dge-iln7p1dEiU4TurmrcFW_tXnk2PO_x6azKa7SkdnjaZnxz_mY5kMnKutQv6Cbjsrfk5IAalrlx3L-YEEmylPmjo9dLDPdqDCO_sOa4k7ZQdHNDtoYxGG4gZasO5YWPh5qoSJwvzA_/s1600/why.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9D6k_SceVKME5H5nzKByRO6LO7MhVMF4db05S0k6FJ8UWw9xMS6PE5QWcMEnvW1b8oEVXBPhdLBAWfgAEFlDAd3xyeqiFLuvuyYTVqlAX6Frnl13ymTUtyJ2HmGG7Z49D9tI0mwSaPpg/s1600/why.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv6ygtu-qHeR4miyIGyZ7Bj8xBz3sHfxImldvqepoVMJcSjpco2XDq8oux8nX-MV9GwsYKgej7go7SJO5jv15TvIMaYGmr0jpvKp4D3e6ESZ2h3xIfXvgIwmDQA-DcMgEh9wJ10E-du46X/s1600/why.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJjdooUnonBKAJWKMHfTcvY_rC42Zq9IE6Ru4M_rUGyiud-uXI_2aXhfkCdTmDX0rKDn816ZvAbOhqeKlAVj07LSo5Vtwf7hNFW5GT8ZxSJ_47-RZRq4vKGIe4oMGlcw0pgspM1A-zgoo/s1600/why.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-22975395587992652412011-03-24T05:16:00.000-07:002011-03-24T05:47:26.871-07:00Why @[insert name]?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCz96i0Pt2zbntNtNxapxzkLDRToDtMrBMNkSsJgFOsncDqTE7alUGWXmZjtdY2EdptuDG_hT154y5BnSpjjPxk0O8Isyhqq2VNFRfBRod6D8yDdVMZQKg9nktrKGtfNlMCKpRYJEbxAnL/s1600/comma.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 133px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587623823416460018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCz96i0Pt2zbntNtNxapxzkLDRToDtMrBMNkSsJgFOsncDqTE7alUGWXmZjtdY2EdptuDG_hT154y5BnSpjjPxk0O8Isyhqq2VNFRfBRod6D8yDdVMZQKg9nktrKGtfNlMCKpRYJEbxAnL/s400/comma.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I admit. I used it, too. It happened when I wrote on a <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Facebook Friend’s</span></strong> status. I wanted to address another person’s comment out of a string.<br /><br />I’d seen others use, for example, <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">“@</span>John”</strong> or <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">“@</span>Jane,”</strong> and thought, well, I guess that’s the wave of the future.<br /><br />So, not wishing to offend the <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Status Syntax Gods</span></strong> or appear Facebook illiterate, I smugly inserted <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">@</span></strong> and felt very hip.<br /><br />It was like I dared others to read my comment directed only to whoever’s name followed <span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>@</strong></span>.<br /><br />I mean, even I know enough that when I leave a comment, and later get notification that someone else has added their thoughts, if it begins with<span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong> @,</strong></span> and my name does not follow, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><em>“Back off, Bub!”<br /></em></strong><br />It’s like in the “olden days,” steaming open someone’s personal mail and reading it. (It’s just much easier on Facebook because you don’t have to apply glue to reseal the envelop. No one is the wiser.)<br /><br />Then I thought, <strong>what happened to that cute little curly thing we learned to use in elementary school</strong>? What’s it called? Oh, yeah, the </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>comma.<br /></strong></span><br />So like if I wanted to let Jane know I was mainly addressing her comment, again in the “olden days,” I would have typed “Jane<span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>,</strong></span>”. How cute is that?<br /><br />But, <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">@you</span></strong>, you’re probably right. That little squiggle’s way too subtle. With overwhelming amounts of information bombarding us 24/7, <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">@ </span></strong>is the most efficient way to get our attention. Clearly it filters through all the “stuff, ” so others need not waste time reading a comment directed solely </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">AT JANE!<br /></span></strong><br />Of course, there’s always a downside to everything. <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">@</span></strong> has caused another victim of unemployment. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hope the <strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">salutation comma</span></strong> finds other work soon…or, better yet, is <strong>rehired. </strong></span></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">--Diana</span></em></strong></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-69907816646474331272011-02-10T06:52:00.000-08:002011-02-10T07:21:43.979-08:00Why Not Jump?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3TajEtaH83rMQy4RmSWsSWfTnISQhekjE5rJXJmQo9ibSzGDF3gqMxi8a3gAZ9hD0eKyn8v_Kj-UcpEkSQDoTYNGw7F7mWKaWYfsZYsCz2tbkZFAn_1DrXyE9xxVo_xD3R8B3MUQdR7Q/s1600/beach%252520forearm%252520stand_flipped.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572074911556161298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3TajEtaH83rMQy4RmSWsSWfTnISQhekjE5rJXJmQo9ibSzGDF3gqMxi8a3gAZ9hD0eKyn8v_Kj-UcpEkSQDoTYNGw7F7mWKaWYfsZYsCz2tbkZFAn_1DrXyE9xxVo_xD3R8B3MUQdR7Q/s320/beach%252520forearm%252520stand_flipped.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I love <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">yoga</span></strong>. Love LOVE <strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span></strong> it! (did I mention I'm kinda crazy about it?)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Partially because every time I go to the mat, I discover something new... about the practice and myself. This week, it was <strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">forearm stand</span></strong>.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">No, the picture isn't me...for lots of reasons! One being if it were, there would be a yoga friend,<strong> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Sheri</span></strong>, holding my right leg so that I would not fall. (Thank you, Sheri, for giving me the courage!) </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">So here I am, nearing a birthday that I'm sure the numbers got reversed somehow (yeah, that's about right...36...that's how old I feel...most days!) and tackling something like nearly standing on my head. (actually that's one of ultimate yoga goals.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Now, I'm finally getting to the point of all this. Lately I've been letting myself <strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">jump</span></strong> from one creative project to another. Allowing myself to <strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">jump</span></strong> from this activity to that activity. From one book to another (before reading "The End.")</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">WHY?</span></strong> It makes me feel alive. It keeps me MOVING! (Used to be I was afraid that if I did not stay on one thing until it was completed, I would never finish it. And that would show lack of committment and ownership.) But what I've learned instead is this: If there is something my heart aches to do (okay, let's assume it's within the "cause no harm" category!) in any given moment, and I deny it...that moment is dead.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">May every moment we are priviledged to live, be alive.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><em>Jump to it!</em></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">--Diana</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-7070456668746213892011-01-30T08:57:00.000-08:002011-01-30T09:38:13.675-08:00Why a Pulitzer May Not Be The Real Prize<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_GakPuM-Nb22IpKoG-1asDkGwMH1uz_YswhuTrMq7HKnIbM5jaGX0f9wdNRwkpAQ_kHI6p4qo2xCGISql0RQZgJB4sdKtTaTBbYcl0d2bVAYNvuJo9LTdr_DmlKiYkM3q0AGB7Q6hbIZh/s1600/Studs_Terkel_2007.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 216px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568025680142726290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_GakPuM-Nb22IpKoG-1asDkGwMH1uz_YswhuTrMq7HKnIbM5jaGX0f9wdNRwkpAQ_kHI6p4qo2xCGISql0RQZgJB4sdKtTaTBbYcl0d2bVAYNvuJo9LTdr_DmlKiYkM3q0AGB7Q6hbIZh/s320/Studs_Terkel_2007.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Listening to NPR recently, I heard a conversation with<strong> <span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Studs Terkel</span></strong>. Agreed, you’d have heard news of the interview before now if it had been live. It was actually held a short time before his death in 2008. </span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For the better part of the discussion, Terkel’s signature voice maintained its gruffness and enthusiasm. Thinking back, it must have been the change in tone that caught my attention—I was after all listening<em> and</em> trying to be a conscientious driver! Though I can’t recall if his manner of speech shifted in response to a particular question, it seemed to result from a natural progression of his thoughts. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It also appeared he was hearing his thoughts for the first time along with everyone else.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Studs Terkel—<strong>author, actor, historian, broadcaster and Pulitzer Prize winner</strong>—questioned (forgive me for paraphrasing) if he’d been a success at the things that really mattered, had he done the right things and always been a good person. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></div></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />The interviewer, apparently overcome with a self-imposed need to ease Terkel’s internal dilemma, quickly interrupted with reassurances that he was human.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The ninety-six year-old remained in that soft-spoken place, saying he’d used that excuse all this life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Terkel sharing his inner-most thoughts at the end of his life, yet another reminder: If, on our deathbed, we have regrets, none will be that we’d spent more time on the job.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>Why</strong></span>, I ask you, is it so hard for some of us to remember that? </span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh, right. We’re human. </span><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">--Diana</span> </em></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.dianablack.net/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">www.DianaBlack.net</span></a></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-52324103785568255882011-01-01T08:04:00.000-08:002011-01-01T08:57:36.130-08:00Why Art?<a href="http://www.google.com/url?source=imgres&ct=img&q=http://www.renoirgallery.com/paintings/large/renoir-luncheon-of-the-boating-party.jpg&sa=X&ei=M1sfTcqtLMT38Aa13eHFDQ&ved=0CAQQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNGk-8hUzBmfO2Gi12lYJJKIi-aS2A"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 348px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.google.com/url?source=imgres&ct=img&q=http://www.renoirgallery.com/paintings/large/renoir-luncheon-of-the-boating-party.jpg&sa=X&ei=M1sfTcqtLMT38Aa13eHFDQ&ved=0CAQQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNGk-8hUzBmfO2Gi12lYJJKIi-aS2A" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></p><br /><br /><br /><br />In the most troubling times, times of financial stress or illness, art may seem most unnecessary to our survival. Yet it is often the most essential to our wellbeing.<br /><br />Muriel Barbery writes in <em>The Elegance of the Hedgehog</em> Chapter 11:<em> "What does Art do for us? It</em> gives shape <em>to our emotions, makes them visible and, in so doing, places a seal of eternity on them..."<br /><br /></em>Can it be that it also places a seal of eternity on us? That if we feel an emotional connection to a work of art, and art is destined for eternity, then we are, by association, and in a sense, immortal.<br /><br />Perhaps that is what we need most to be reminded of in those times of peril or uncertainty. That we share emotions with all other human beings ...the artist, other viewers of art past present and future, our friends, family and even enemies.<br /><br />Art touches our soul, our very core. That part of us in no need of money or healing.<br /><br />That p<strong><em>art</em></strong> sealed for eternity. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>--Diana </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>Pictured: Luncheon of the Boating Party by Renoir 1881</em><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-22801802048662635582010-11-29T07:34:00.000-08:002010-11-29T07:46:27.213-08:00WHY Travel Was A Breeze!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CsA6lwSVgCIbg4u1cnsg8KtpQKTM4fT3C0QUJj88ECOnVXsG1Qd3ZO66VLMHiHJNqbJcOk4OYHJ53jQyFO62_QlyltCQSmibLu8Y-TQdYdJgOiezN_RE4weJTlLzy2kDpOdrAaxrCDbK/s1600/AngelUpAhead.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 303px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544995720552071906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CsA6lwSVgCIbg4u1cnsg8KtpQKTM4fT3C0QUJj88ECOnVXsG1Qd3ZO66VLMHiHJNqbJcOk4OYHJ53jQyFO62_QlyltCQSmibLu8Y-TQdYdJgOiezN_RE4weJTlLzy2kDpOdrAaxrCDbK/s400/AngelUpAhead.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Driving north</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> on I185 the Sunday after <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Thanksgiving</span> </span></strong>can be, well, hell. Not yesterday! <strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#333333;"><em>Why?</em></span></strong> An <strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Angel </span></strong>was watching over travelers! -- <em>diana</em></span>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-73869949935848152102010-11-12T06:12:00.000-08:002010-11-12T06:17:05.348-08:00Why I'd Pay $225,000...<a href="http://virgingalactic.coastlinetravel.com/_images/plane.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 161px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://virgingalactic.coastlinetravel.com/_images/plane.png" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">If I had it, that is...<br /></span></strong><a href="http://virgingalactic.coastlinetravel.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>Virgin Galactic</strong></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>!<br /></strong></span></div><br /><object style="height: 390px; width: 640px"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mDUVe3a496Y?version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mDUVe3a496Y?version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="390"></object>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-17704041565431763492010-10-30T09:31:00.000-07:002010-10-30T09:49:09.613-07:00Why Women Are Fed Up<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAZ-L9kBQasg6z1hstKDE0VEEiwgPczVALPJ3j0m2HAOLuX44w9TclOkssRVp0BnsUnQrGPfcbM7F3UMssLGWUd3_-0oOk1funzmPPYb9TfCnGI1gY13h0kjUuxkmdogvyfiuULqtn4qI/s1600/suffragists.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 135px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533879206746397026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAZ-L9kBQasg6z1hstKDE0VEEiwgPczVALPJ3j0m2HAOLuX44w9TclOkssRVp0BnsUnQrGPfcbM7F3UMssLGWUd3_-0oOk1funzmPPYb9TfCnGI1gY13h0kjUuxkmdogvyfiuULqtn4qI/s400/suffragists.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><strong>Now is the time for all good women to come to the aid of their...country! <br /><br /></strong></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We owe it to ourselves, our children and the suffragettes who fought (literally) for each woman's right to vote. Still, today, some progressive women are fed up and tend to turn inward their anger over the current state of the nation. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Women, however, must propel forward and take action at the polls this Tuesday, says <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Gloria Feldt</span></strong> in October 30th's <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The Daily Beast</span></strong>. To read her article "Why Women Are Fed Up, </span><a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2010-10-29/midterm-elections-angry-progressive-women-must-vote/?om_rid=CeZzBe&om_mid=_BMzCeBB8Vbq91-" target="new"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"><strong><em>Click here!</em></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"><strong><em> </em></strong></span></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-83819234225269841512010-10-13T05:20:00.001-07:002010-10-13T05:22:34.712-07:00Why Aren't More Pumpkins Saved?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"><strong><em>It's so simple!</em></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqinrTeDs0PqaIww1an1ExCeHvO0HyC13mRRV-8mdf9EsUCHwh1pnoL63GIbqn_Z86M4uW1n6qgB7gjh7r3Abym2IJS4StBdlP7pxVIHi-0-5zEntNiVgWffqzcVO78HvlynTxwy5YgoIv/s1600/pumpkin.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"><strong><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527504653943845954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqinrTeDs0PqaIww1an1ExCeHvO0HyC13mRRV-8mdf9EsUCHwh1pnoL63GIbqn_Z86M4uW1n6qgB7gjh7r3Abym2IJS4StBdlP7pxVIHi-0-5zEntNiVgWffqzcVO78HvlynTxwy5YgoIv/s400/pumpkin.jpg" /></em></strong></span></a><br /><div></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-31900458308406105442010-10-08T07:00:00.000-07:002010-10-08T07:05:51.879-07:00Your children too old for picture books? Why?<p align="center"><a href="http://www.domainnamesanity.com/webumake/wwwsites/www.oncapitolavenue.com/garamondcopy.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 309px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 57px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.domainnamesanity.com/webumake/wwwsites/www.oncapitolavenue.com/garamondcopy.jpg" /></a></p><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.oncapitolavenue.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>Leah Porter on "Seeing Without Reading"</strong></span></a>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-38624062936777562782010-10-07T07:17:00.000-07:002010-10-07T08:22:19.208-07:00Lewis Black...Why We Don't Need Physics in Schools!<a href="http://www.lewisblack.com/images/screen-12-.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 157px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.lewisblack.com/images/screen-12-.jpg" /></a> <div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>VIDEO:<br /><br /></strong></span><div><a href="http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/tue-october-5-2010/back-in-black---education-crisis"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>Lewis Black</strong></span></a> </div></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-12223614796495502222010-09-27T07:12:00.000-07:002010-09-27T07:46:43.382-07:00Why The Green Tights?<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c8/Robin_shoots_with_sir_Guy_by_Louis_Rhead_1912.png/170px-Robin_shoots_with_sir_Guy_by_Louis_Rhead_1912.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c8/Robin_shoots_with_sir_Guy_by_Louis_Rhead_1912.png/170px-Robin_shoots_with_sir_Guy_by_Louis_Rhead_1912.png" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>We don't live in medieval times.</strong> </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(Just act like it far too often.) </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></div></span><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>We don't have to "steal" from the rich to give to the poor.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(Helping others is a good thing, but robbery? Not so much.) </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></div></span><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>We don't need to wear <span style="color:#009900;">green </span>tights.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(Unless of course we look really good in 'em!) </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /> </div></span><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, then, what do we do to help the financial mess this country finds itself? (Recession may be "technically" over, but those folks in foreclosure and unemployment lines aren't believing it.) </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></div></span><div></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Ben Stein</span></strong> spoke on this issue recently on <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">CBS Sunday Morning</span></strong>. (I used to not agree with his opinions much, then began to see his point. But on this subject, he totally lost me.) Apparently, he lost <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Linda McGibney</span></strong>, too.</span><br /><embed height="279" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" src="http://cnettv.cnet.com/av/video/cbsnews/atlantis2/cbsnews_player_embed.swf" scale="noscale" salign="lt" background="#333333" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" flashvars="si=254&uvpc=http://cnettv.cnet.com/av/video/cbsnews/atlantis2/uvp_cbsnews.xml&contentType=videoId&contentValue=50093608&ccEnabled=false&hdEnabled=false&fsEnabled=true&shareEnabled=false&dlEnabled=false&subEnabled=false&playlistDisplay=none&playlistType=none&playerWidth=425&playerHeight=239&vidWidth=425&vidHeight=239&autoplay=false&bbuttonDisplay=none&playOverlayText=PLAY%20CBS%20NEWS%20VIDEO&refreshMpuEnabled=true&shareUrl=http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=6902335n&tag=related;photovideo&adEngine=dart&adCallTemplate=http%3A//www.cbs.com/thunder/ad.doubleclick.net/adx/request.php%3F/can/news/%7B%25videoNode%7D%3Bsite%3Dnews%3Bshow%3D%7B%25videoParentNode%7D%3B%7B%25videoFeatPath%7Dpartner%3Dnews%3Blvid%3D%7B%25videoId%7D%3Boutlet%3DCBS+Production%3BnoAd%3D%7B%25videoNoAd%7D%3Btype%3Dros%3Bformat%3DFLV%3Bpos%3D%7B%25posDart%7D%3Bsz%3D320x240%3Bord%3D%7B%25random%7D%3B&adPreroll=true&adPrerollType=PreContent&adPrerollValue=1"></embed> </div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3994687068835838934.post-64397922464843456432010-09-21T07:26:00.000-07:002010-09-21T07:34:38.980-07:00Why We Call It Failure<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYArea6tTNMvE_I3VhugLLmyJ4XpEgHPBVNLZBGlg0JCVLw-QtIo1hyvXoylO1lgyCCs_SiPvYqoTwRG1tCNhyphenhypheni36sFYn7VVsLA_Gs78TNJy9HvPUCIkqR-CLXPRLipA4YZVkIXGi6tRqh/s1600/miller_hoffman_200.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519374590836552178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYArea6tTNMvE_I3VhugLLmyJ4XpEgHPBVNLZBGlg0JCVLw-QtIo1hyvXoylO1lgyCCs_SiPvYqoTwRG1tCNhyphenhypheni36sFYn7VVsLA_Gs78TNJy9HvPUCIkqR-CLXPRLipA4YZVkIXGi6tRqh/s320/miller_hoffman_200.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333333;">A recent article in <em>Newsweek</em> (9.20.10) by <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Julia Baird</span></strong> explores the possibility that <strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Willy Loman</span></strong> was not a loser. Loman, you’ll remember, is Pulitzer-winning <strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Arthur Miller’s</span></strong> character in <strong>“Death of a Salesman.”<br /></strong><br />As the saying goes, look up “failure” in the dictionary, and you’ll see Willy Loman’s picture. Baird, however, asks us to think about this poster child for “loser” a bit differently. “...Willy kept a job for 38 years, he owned his house—he had just made the last mortgage payment – and had a wife and two children.” She adds, “Today he’d be a survivor.”<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">J.K. Rowling</span></strong>, another famous author of another relatively well-known character, addressed Harvard grads in 2008 and described failure as a “stripping away of the inessential.”<br /><br />Let’s think about this, here in 2010, with a staggering unemployment rate. Do we ever judge unemployed people too harshly? Do we see them, and they themselves, as “failures”? <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">If so, why?</span></strong> Life, if nothing else, is about good times and hard times. We all have them in some form or another. Easy times are swell, but let's remember, it’s in the tough times we discover what is really important in life.<br /><br />Without “failure,” how would we ever know the true meaning of success? As Baird writes, “Today [Willy’s] grandchildren might be proud.” </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#333333;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#333333;"><em>--Diana</em> </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333333;">Photo: Miller (left) and Dustin Hoffman as "Willy" in 1985</span></div>Diana Blackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06177915857090560626noreply@blogger.com0