Excuse me!
Since when did a newspaper access the right to share my personal e-mail?
Apparently, my subscription online as well as the subscriptions of other online folks was due to expire. So rather than bcc their customers, they chose to share them.
Once you share my personal e-mail or any of my personal information, any relationship we had ceases to exist.
But it won't end there. I will share your behavior to this end, too.
Friday, May 13, 2016
Film Families
A heavy rain last night forced the tree pollen to the ground. One fallen Bradford pear along the road near my house spoke of strong winds again last night. The freshly scented air revealed blue skies and cloud puffs and lots of sunshine. Temperatures are much cooler with lower humidity. A welcoming treat this Friday morning.
Another welcoming treat was the film crew who has been in town for a couple of weeks. They are in town filming a story of murder in a small town. And police more involved with the foul treatment of black citizens than finding the culprit.
Sets are unique. Often a strong comaraderie exists. Lots of encouragement from producers, directors and the crew. The encouragement is both top down and bottom up. Of course, everyone knows there is no 'bottom' only lots of talented people choreographed to bring to the big screen a story. Albeit, a big budget one.
Warm hugs, pats on the backs and handshakes abound. The crew is full of smiles, appreciative of our small town and continually thanking us for being so gracious to them. We are a gracious town and that is what attracted me here. People genuinely care about one another. We genuinely care about the crew and their comfort level here.
A location manager told me he is pulling together a group of crew members for a trip down the Tuckaseegee River this weekend. He wants people to get out of their high stressed work and feel the goodness and nature here in the Nantahala National Forest. He said he is staying locally and enjoys the quiet of the mountain. A huge change from busy Los Angeles city living.
We are thankful for the heavy rain. We hope it reduces both pollen and stress level. And, we are grateful to see such loving film families enjoying the abundance of western North Carolina.
Another welcoming treat was the film crew who has been in town for a couple of weeks. They are in town filming a story of murder in a small town. And police more involved with the foul treatment of black citizens than finding the culprit.
Sets are unique. Often a strong comaraderie exists. Lots of encouragement from producers, directors and the crew. The encouragement is both top down and bottom up. Of course, everyone knows there is no 'bottom' only lots of talented people choreographed to bring to the big screen a story. Albeit, a big budget one.
Warm hugs, pats on the backs and handshakes abound. The crew is full of smiles, appreciative of our small town and continually thanking us for being so gracious to them. We are a gracious town and that is what attracted me here. People genuinely care about one another. We genuinely care about the crew and their comfort level here.
A location manager told me he is pulling together a group of crew members for a trip down the Tuckaseegee River this weekend. He wants people to get out of their high stressed work and feel the goodness and nature here in the Nantahala National Forest. He said he is staying locally and enjoys the quiet of the mountain. A huge change from busy Los Angeles city living.
We are thankful for the heavy rain. We hope it reduces both pollen and stress level. And, we are grateful to see such loving film families enjoying the abundance of western North Carolina.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Tasteless Restaurant
One of the things I enjoy about small town living is getting to know the people who work and frequent it.
Just the other day a friend who works in a restaurant told me a story The friend was hired full time. The owner has a beautiful home and enjoys the fruits of an abundant lifestyle. The worker, however, does not.
All too often we hear about the CEOs and upper management in Fortune 500 companies. We hear the executives of these companies make enormous salaries, with enormous bonuses. The people working in the lower tiers do not. We complain about it as though it is a crime. It is no different in a small business. For some reason, we don't hear very much about these environments. It is no different and it is time we realize what goes on there, too.
This friend who was enjoying full time work had their hours cut. They were cut 30%. The worker told me they had not been able to go to a grocery store in two months. They can't afford gas and their car is not working too well, either.
Of course, I do not know the other side of the story. I suspect there is some disharmony. But I have to wonder what kind of owner would do this. Knowing the owner as I do, I see another side. A wealthy lifestyle, going like a bat out of hell to make a lot of money and forgetting the customers who frequent their restaurant. For my part in this, I rarely go in their establishment anymore.
This one way ticket has grown old. Business owners need to realize their customers are their lifeline. Some of them even care about their employees. But this place has lost its appeal. The food never had much taste and the owner has even less.
I won't be going into this tasteless restaurant for a very long time. Maybe never.
Just the other day a friend who works in a restaurant told me a story The friend was hired full time. The owner has a beautiful home and enjoys the fruits of an abundant lifestyle. The worker, however, does not.
All too often we hear about the CEOs and upper management in Fortune 500 companies. We hear the executives of these companies make enormous salaries, with enormous bonuses. The people working in the lower tiers do not. We complain about it as though it is a crime. It is no different in a small business. For some reason, we don't hear very much about these environments. It is no different and it is time we realize what goes on there, too.
This friend who was enjoying full time work had their hours cut. They were cut 30%. The worker told me they had not been able to go to a grocery store in two months. They can't afford gas and their car is not working too well, either.
Of course, I do not know the other side of the story. I suspect there is some disharmony. But I have to wonder what kind of owner would do this. Knowing the owner as I do, I see another side. A wealthy lifestyle, going like a bat out of hell to make a lot of money and forgetting the customers who frequent their restaurant. For my part in this, I rarely go in their establishment anymore.
This one way ticket has grown old. Business owners need to realize their customers are their lifeline. Some of them even care about their employees. But this place has lost its appeal. The food never had much taste and the owner has even less.
I won't be going into this tasteless restaurant for a very long time. Maybe never.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Night Visitor
Last week, I wasn't sleeping well. A myriad of things went through my mind. It had been a week of knowings. Premonitions. For friends. For family.
If you are blessed with psychic ability, you know you have to be careful with what you share. Most people don't have a platform with which to accept new information about themselves and their future. So you store it. Stored for that time when it is safe for them. Safe for you to remember.
Nearly sound asleep, a presence in the room awakened me. From under the covers the presence felt huge. Solid. Benevolent. I wasn't scared - they was no reason to be. But I was absolutely exhausted. With little energy, I pulled the covers completely over my head. I had no time for this. Sleep kept calling and I dozed off.
Suddenly, the presence felt commanding. Like I was being summoned.
I had learned lifelong to pay attention to senses. Knowings. Intuition. Whether I could see anything did not matter. I could feel that. I readjusted my head. It was time.
Peeling back from the white, organic top sheet, I lifted my head off the pillow. A large dark presence was visible at the foot of my bed. It was just after midnight. A new moon would ensue in a few days. It was a time of cleansing. A deeper one now. Letting go in huge ways. There had been reminders for the past few months. But time was quickening.
In weeks before, I would hear the crinkling of my comforter yet I wasn't moving. Once, I even crinked it to see if I could duplicate the sound. I could not. It required a hand and body larger than mine. And, I was especially tired that time.
Earlier in the day I had been working outside, moving flowers and transplanting them to a better location. More light. More drainage. More releasing.
Then there were the chimes, the bells, sounds that came from the direction of my LLBean Moonbeam clock. Except it doesn't make those sounds. Nor does my cell phone. But this isn't the first time I have heard these sounds. It happened three nights before this time.
Then there have been crashing sounds outside my home at night. Not a thing was broken. No evidence. Nada.
Something is watching me. A night visitor.
If you are blessed with psychic ability, you know you have to be careful with what you share. Most people don't have a platform with which to accept new information about themselves and their future. So you store it. Stored for that time when it is safe for them. Safe for you to remember.
Nearly sound asleep, a presence in the room awakened me. From under the covers the presence felt huge. Solid. Benevolent. I wasn't scared - they was no reason to be. But I was absolutely exhausted. With little energy, I pulled the covers completely over my head. I had no time for this. Sleep kept calling and I dozed off.
Suddenly, the presence felt commanding. Like I was being summoned.
I had learned lifelong to pay attention to senses. Knowings. Intuition. Whether I could see anything did not matter. I could feel that. I readjusted my head. It was time.
Peeling back from the white, organic top sheet, I lifted my head off the pillow. A large dark presence was visible at the foot of my bed. It was just after midnight. A new moon would ensue in a few days. It was a time of cleansing. A deeper one now. Letting go in huge ways. There had been reminders for the past few months. But time was quickening.
In weeks before, I would hear the crinkling of my comforter yet I wasn't moving. Once, I even crinked it to see if I could duplicate the sound. I could not. It required a hand and body larger than mine. And, I was especially tired that time.
Earlier in the day I had been working outside, moving flowers and transplanting them to a better location. More light. More drainage. More releasing.
Then there were the chimes, the bells, sounds that came from the direction of my LLBean Moonbeam clock. Except it doesn't make those sounds. Nor does my cell phone. But this isn't the first time I have heard these sounds. It happened three nights before this time.
Then there have been crashing sounds outside my home at night. Not a thing was broken. No evidence. Nada.
Something is watching me. A night visitor.
Saturday, May 7, 2016
Happy Mother's Day!
A friend nominated me for several Mother's Day award categories. It was beyond sweet of her to do this and I began to think about this day.
My children and their families are at a distance. I don't spend Mother's Day with them. Like most of my holidays, I spend them with self. Now don't go getting all teary eyed. I have what few will ever have. I have had a loving family, loving children, and grandchildren. And a strong and healthy sense of myself.
I do not expect anything from them. I just want to love them. Mother's Day, after all, is a marketing day. And you know how I feel about marketing. Blech!
It is a day of gratitude as I told my friend. I don't require flowers, notes, cards, gifts. Knowing that they are happy in their lives is what my Mother's Day is all about. I am in their lives by design, choice, luck, miracles.
This year, my daughter will enjoy Mother's Day. Her first. A death in the family meant that her husband had to go out of the country for a funeral. I hope he makes it home in time to spend Mother's Day with her. Either way, she has a gift. She is nearly four months old and we couldn't be happier.
Thursday, a card from my daughter arrived in the mail. I was too excited to open it so I sat in my car in the garage while I pulled the envelope apart.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
I finally understand what it means to be a mom and am so grateful to have your unconditional love as an inspiration.
Thank you in particular for your support in helping me to become a mom.
Love ~
her name
P.S. This stationary was bought for me by Grandma Eleanor way back when."
Almost immediately, I burst into tears. There were three generations of women in this note. My mom who bought the stationary gifting it to my daughter. My daughter who wanted to pay it forward in her appreciation of me, her mom and my granddaughter who brought us all together again.
Thank you HG. You are the gift that keeps giving.
Happy Mother's Day to all who mother ~ many of whom are not biological ones but mothers none the same. To the mother in all of us!
My children and their families are at a distance. I don't spend Mother's Day with them. Like most of my holidays, I spend them with self. Now don't go getting all teary eyed. I have what few will ever have. I have had a loving family, loving children, and grandchildren. And a strong and healthy sense of myself.
I do not expect anything from them. I just want to love them. Mother's Day, after all, is a marketing day. And you know how I feel about marketing. Blech!
It is a day of gratitude as I told my friend. I don't require flowers, notes, cards, gifts. Knowing that they are happy in their lives is what my Mother's Day is all about. I am in their lives by design, choice, luck, miracles.
This year, my daughter will enjoy Mother's Day. Her first. A death in the family meant that her husband had to go out of the country for a funeral. I hope he makes it home in time to spend Mother's Day with her. Either way, she has a gift. She is nearly four months old and we couldn't be happier.
Thursday, a card from my daughter arrived in the mail. I was too excited to open it so I sat in my car in the garage while I pulled the envelope apart.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
I finally understand what it means to be a mom and am so grateful to have your unconditional love as an inspiration.
Thank you in particular for your support in helping me to become a mom.
Love ~
her name
P.S. This stationary was bought for me by Grandma Eleanor way back when."
Almost immediately, I burst into tears. There were three generations of women in this note. My mom who bought the stationary gifting it to my daughter. My daughter who wanted to pay it forward in her appreciation of me, her mom and my granddaughter who brought us all together again.
Thank you HG. You are the gift that keeps giving.
Happy Mother's Day to all who mother ~ many of whom are not biological ones but mothers none the same. To the mother in all of us!
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Art For Emotional Instability And Resurrection
A great deal of art has been created to alleviate emotionality suffering. Some would suggest emotional instability. Whatever the name, no one is immune to its affects. Our response to this is expressed in a variety of mediums. Literature, painting, music, and others. Many believe art evolved as a means to express oneself. I certainly believe that.
Whether one is moved to tell a story, explain human suffering or their own, art takes one to another dimension. Within.
When I am drawn to paint, time stands still. That the hand is one with the brush creating a timeless and unbreakable connection. But it comes from a solitary place. The now. After all, that moment is all we ever have.
The writer, Ernest Hemingway, is believed to "have suffered from depression, bipolar disorder, had borderline and narcissistic personality traits, and later suffered with psychosis."
As was the situation with Leo Tolstoy, Sylvia Plath, Franz Kafka, one of my favorites, and Virginia Woolf. Through their hearts, their angst, they shared a story. Theirs and ours.
We admire their humanity, their ability to discuss intolerable social conditions and abuse. We admire their courage, their need to open a dialogue on our emotions.
http://blogs.psychcentral.com/hollywood-therapy/2014/12/7-famous-writers-with-mental-disorders/
Similarly, painter Vincent Van Gogh, was known to have a bi-polar disorder. His rapid production of paintings was unattainable by many other artists. After each completion of his work,bouts of depression, exhaustion and finally suicide ensued.
Likewise, Mozart's creation of Sonata no. 8 in A minor. Please listen and see if you can't feel his confusion and anger. His consistent rhythm is easily heard. Mozart wanted the world to know of his turmoil. Perhaps by listening and feeling the suffering of another, we too, may experience less.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRgxY8VUOz8
Whether one is moved to tell a story, explain human suffering or their own, art takes one to another dimension. Within.
When I am drawn to paint, time stands still. That the hand is one with the brush creating a timeless and unbreakable connection. But it comes from a solitary place. The now. After all, that moment is all we ever have.
The writer, Ernest Hemingway, is believed to "have suffered from depression, bipolar disorder, had borderline and narcissistic personality traits, and later suffered with psychosis."
As was the situation with Leo Tolstoy, Sylvia Plath, Franz Kafka, one of my favorites, and Virginia Woolf. Through their hearts, their angst, they shared a story. Theirs and ours.
We admire their humanity, their ability to discuss intolerable social conditions and abuse. We admire their courage, their need to open a dialogue on our emotions.
http://blogs.psychcentral.com/hollywood-therapy/2014/12/7-famous-writers-with-mental-disorders/
Similarly, painter Vincent Van Gogh, was known to have a bi-polar disorder. His rapid production of paintings was unattainable by many other artists. After each completion of his work,bouts of depression, exhaustion and finally suicide ensued.
Likewise, Mozart's creation of Sonata no. 8 in A minor. Please listen and see if you can't feel his confusion and anger. His consistent rhythm is easily heard. Mozart wanted the world to know of his turmoil. Perhaps by listening and feeling the suffering of another, we too, may experience less.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRgxY8VUOz8
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Woody, Selfies and A Cushion
"Nope, its just not my thing."
He couldn't understand. She neither. I enjoy my privacy and surely do not require accolades or patting myself on the back. I prefer to stand back and observe. And, that is just what I did.
She said it all.
" you don't seem like the selfie with a celebrity type."
"Oh, lord. I am not that superficial," I responded.
But it is alright for anyone else. I would be beyond embarassed. And no, I did not want to be an extra. Yes, I was asked. A bunch of times.
"No, thank you."
I was happy enough to get back home. An early morning to Asheville leaving at 6:20 a.m. I could barely open my eyes at my appointment. It took about half the time and I am forever grateful. I was hoping to pick up the reupholstered chaise cushion which used the three yards I had purchased three years ago in the event I needed them, but they were not in. Just after I arrived home, the store called.
"Your cushion in is."
Back next week. I have way too many projects going on to make another trip for a few days.
He couldn't understand. She neither. I enjoy my privacy and surely do not require accolades or patting myself on the back. I prefer to stand back and observe. And, that is just what I did.
" you don't seem like the selfie with a celebrity type."
"Oh, lord. I am not that superficial," I responded.
But it is alright for anyone else. I would be beyond embarassed. And no, I did not want to be an extra. Yes, I was asked. A bunch of times.
"No, thank you."
I was happy enough to get back home. An early morning to Asheville leaving at 6:20 a.m. I could barely open my eyes at my appointment. It took about half the time and I am forever grateful. I was hoping to pick up the reupholstered chaise cushion which used the three yards I had purchased three years ago in the event I needed them, but they were not in. Just after I arrived home, the store called.
"Your cushion in is."
Back next week. I have way too many projects going on to make another trip for a few days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)