Happy New Year Troglodytes!

Rock collectors know about the other side. They pick up a smooth looking rock only to find a rough and dirty side underneath. Sometimes they get lucky and both sides are smooth, perhaps gleaming from eons spent rolling around in a river somewhere. The rock collector is always searching for the perfect rock and yet loves coming across unusual imperfections. Those natural flaws make the collection unique. 

Likewise with humans searching for the perfect soul mate, candidate or best friends, are facing  a gravel-strewn driveway along the path of life. Rarely is someone the same on all sides. Divorce lawyers know this. Congress knows this and we know it too but in our quest for smooth perfection, we forget about how imperfections create the most amazing and memorable collections. How many days are we going to waste looking for something that isn’t valuable, interesting or exciting anyway? Do we really want cookie-cutter friends, Stepford wives and Teflon-coated candidates? Are we looking for humans or blowup dolls made in a factory? Sadly, some folks would rather opt out completely rather than experience any discomfort or heartbreak.

My personal feeling is that once we see our own faults, it’s easier to accept the complimentary blemishes of others. Think prehistoric and yet highly civilized--like a mortar and pestle—two rocks—forged out of stone to work together. Cavemen merged with other tribes and ensured our survival by showing them new skills. Here in 2016 when war, anger and frustration still continue to rock the world with violence, it might be a good time to remember the things that brought us this far. The progress that creates workmanship, teamwork and amazing technological wonders began and begins one simple step at a time.

My New Year’s wish for everyone— is hoping that before selecting our friends and leaders, we can remember to accept differences and vagaries with the understanding that reality has many multiple and fascinating dimensions-like a rock!

Sister Scrooge on Christmas Eve

       They both raced to the velvet chaise next to their parent’s bed. "Goodnight girls. Sweet dreams." Daddy had taken them outside and covered them for the night. It felt like the North Pole. Bitter cold winds swept around the house and the temperature took a dive into something Californians typically only see in fancy, French-doored Sub-Zero refrigerators—something resembling popsicles.

Summer days in the window(Fiona up close and Pinky)

Getting comfortable when it's cold is generally difficult for Chihuahuas. They aren't used to cold weather and even with pink sweaters, their ears and toes feel icy.  

Walking with Mommy-- wearing coats

  

"Move over or I'm telling Mom!" Pinky whined. “Tomorrow’s Christmas and we have to be good!” 

"Bah humbug," Fiona mumbled, as she sprawled her matchstick legs behind her as far as they would go. A complete and utter Scrooge, her adorable face and diminutive physique didn’t automatically make her sweet. “All you ever want are treats and more treats,” she said with a haughty tone. “The only reason you want to be good is so you can get more snacks. Will you ever stop being a slob?”

 "For an itty-bitty thing you sure are nasty!” Pinky made a sad face, accidentally pulling part of the covers off Fiona.

"You are a moron. Why don’t you shut up or grow up? For goodness sake, aren’t you like seventy-seven in human years?" Fiona grunted. "Go to sleep and leave me alone.” She buried her face into the soft comforter and closed her eyes.

After a long day of home inspections, kitchen floor cleanups and all around holiday excitement, Pinky was tired too. Outweighing Fiona by at least fifteen pounds wasn't enough to give Pinky the upper hand. In fact, Fiona was in charge of everything and it wasn't fair. 

This is their large and spacious bed

 Using her nose, she pushed Fiona's skinny legs aside and plopped onto the green chaise. A few minutes later, the tinier Chihuahua re-positioned herself under the covers. Pinky didn't want to complain but a small growl attracted Mommy who came to make sure they were properly covered. First, she wanted to take a peek at her two naughty pups. To her delight, she found Fiona's head resting on Pinky's patient haunches. 

“Aren’t you two the cutest? Merry Christmas,” she whispered. We’ll have sleighs full of fun tomorrow. After turning off the light, she listened to the wind howling in the yard and wondered whether it might snow. And as the light of the full moon crept under the window shades, she thanked God for all her blessings--even the furry, four-legged ones--now sleeping like angels.... 

There's Room in My Heart

There’s room in my heart to wish you and yours a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year. There’s also room for cheerful thoughts--towards those who don’t celebrate Christmas--for contentment and joy and of course--a lovely and safe 2016!

There’s room in my heart. Quite a bit actually—it’s like a giant airplane hangar waiting for kindness to enter. It’s a place to dance and sing about good things, whine and cry about the bad and toast the hopes and dreams of a coming year while sharing our stories. The ceiling is high in my heart. Breezy and light with room for many angels, I put my closest allies, my dearest friends on ornate pedestals and in my imagination, I think of them at a giant award ceremony receiving the highest honor my heart can bestow.  

There’s room in my heart for good tidings and lactose free eggnog—giggles and excitement. I can decorate with strings of twinkling lights or hire a nice old man to set up a train set, such as the one I had as a kid. Then, when we’re getting tired of celebrating and singing Christmas carols, we can sit on satin pillows around the tree, praying for peace. 

May God Bless You All!

Three Ways To Add Time into Your Life Right Now!

While shopping and running errands, you’ve probably noticed that time seems to slip by faster than a cheetah on speed. Of course, I have no experience with crack or cheetahs but since wildlife and opium plants might mingle, there could be a weird chance something like that could develop. Somewhere near a leaking power plant or near a nuclear testing site—but I digress. What I want to do is offer a suggestion about making time slow again. Women who have given birth know the drill. They could write this post too because expecting is exactly that—the expectation of a new life with nine months of built in anticipation, anxiousness and of course pain. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t really know that either but I’ve heard great stories from wonderful mothers.
 The rest of us might recall waiting for Christmas or maybe we waited in the rain for a bus and thought it would never show up. Here are three great ways to add some make believe but still valuable, time into your already busy week.

1.     Create a small goal with a surprise at the end.

Pages or Pounds?

With writing, it’s pages, or with dieting it’s pounds. There’s a number involved and they sound similar. 1500 calories or 1500 words a day. Set a goal but make it attainable. At the end of the week if you’ve reached your goals you can reward yourself; but only at the end of the week. Rewards have to be something you don’t indulge in frequently such as a special slice of cake or tickets to a theater. The trick is to look forward to the reward and the week will crawl by like a naked turtle looking for her shell.

2.     Make a date to go somewhere fun

Weekend Trip or Vacation?

You’ve always wanted to go to Universal Studios? Hawaii? Well this might be a great time to plan a trip--something stellar- and rockin’ fun-- such as a New Year cruise or maybe a weekend trip to Vegas? The anticipation will drive you batty because it’s something you’ve

wanted to do for a very long time. Once you book the tickets, it will seem like you’re back in third grade waiting for recess. Time will return to you in spades. The clock will tick louder than usual. It will seem you’ll never get there and it will be so worth it when you do.

3.     Plan a party a month in advance

Be a Guest or Hostess

It’s still almost a month out but planning a New Year Party will be a cinch. It’s not the planning but the space between the minute you start planning and the actual event that seems to create the slowness of time. If you know of a spectacular party you want to attend then make sure you’re on the list. Getting married in the New Year? Congrats but the minutes will seem eternal.  Even being a guest at upcoming nuptials can be exciting. The farther off the event and the more elaborate the gala, the more you’ll see clocks stopping and minutes crawling like slugs into your garden.

The Present of Time

So there you are: My intangible gift to you—a few scattered minutes to cherish and hold until something wonderful happens—and you inhale before you go screaming and laughing through Times Square on New Year’s Eve or exhale cold vapor while riding a roller-coaster at a local amusement park. Before the kisses and hugs, before the spilled champagne and before opening packages under the tree; as this calendar year draws to an end, I want to wish all my family members, friends and followers a wonderful holiday and Happy New Year!

Grateful, Overstuffed Hearts

Good and Bad Stuffing

A poem by Eve Gaal

(Note: Little bit of silly word play for Thanksgiving:

 Each line as two words that sound the same but....)

Listen to rap while wrapping.

Bake date bread before dating.

Buy a wok after walking.

Lie down-- hear lies.

See from ocean to sea,

males rarely send mail.

Sew your dress-- find it isn’t so.

Frosted tiers,--shedding tears,

Unfazed-- enter a phase.

No--means knowing.

Dye your hair—you’re not prepared to die.

Hear the hymn-- listen to Him,

head to sole into your soul.

By and large you buy it,

By casting nets—earn a role in the cast.

Harpoon a whale while wailing.

Box out of a box--

a major feat but you land on your feet.

Do the unthinkable--kneel on morning dew.

Pray for the preyed upon.

You are not the ewe in the meadow.

Write about everything being right,

the open chutes are shooting,

weigh your options-- find your way--

like a soldier in the corps--injured to the core.

One who wins and has won.

Ready for round two— maybe three and four too,

Life's not easy but great and you’re grate-ful!

This turkey is filled with
 gratitude instead of stuffing!

Backyard Forecasting

Pre-El Nino?

The clouds are hiding now.

The storm is on the way.

So they say.

Plan ahead.

Those high paid meteorologists

Wearing expensive clothes--

Have warnings,

fancy maps

Doppler radar,

and serious expressions on their faces.

It’s time to prepare.

Buy umbrellas,

flood insurance.

Stock up on food,

at least make sure you have a raincoat.

Outside,

sunshine is streaming all over the place.

You grab your sunglasses and sit in the shade.

You’re out a few hundred dollars but you’re ready.

And on such a wonderful November day

You see the frantic hummingbird poke her head into the last of the blossoms—

and think it’s funny

because even without the Prime Time weather team--

She knows. 

Empowering Fashions?

With the holidays fast approaching, it’s no wonder the catalog companies are testing my postman’s biceps. Poor guy must really get a workout schlepping all the fashion, gift and toy catalogs. Last night I flipped through a couple of my favorites and realized I’m hopelessly out of style. I used to know what to wear but moving to a deserted golf course for ten years has altered my sense of style. Silk blouses were too hot when the mercury rose past 89 degrees and suit jackets slumped on a chair most of the day. At least I’ve learned that shorts aren’t for middle-aged women. Skinny, tall or short and plump,

please don’t wear shorts to anything. Not even a golf tournament. They are ugly and unless you’re one of the Bud girls or something, don't even consider wearing shorts with boots.

But what do I know? I like dresses and I cannot lie. My favorite dress style is from before my mother went to school and I also love the vintage dresses from when my grandmother went to school!There's no denying the pink, the lace and the style of the dresses from the early part of the 20th Century glorified the weaker sex. Something my extra large athletic build and 5 foot 9 inch stature can only dream about. Weak? Me? Not unless I'm sick.
Ubiquitous jeans, however are my go to, for cool days and long winter nights.

Let me get back to these fashion catalogs and what women are subjected to wearing in 2015. Certainly nothing "weak" about either of these acceptable styles:

 1. Severe political statement, candidate-style suits
or

 2. Robin Hood meets Peter Pan (Angled bottom- flowing tunic, leggings and ankle boots)

One

Thanks to John T. Molloy and his book “Dress for Success", I wore imposing navy blue suits for many years. Honestly, I’m not exaggerating or dramatizing when I say a manager handed me that exact book after noticing my handmade little frocks. (Yes, I used to sew romantic, ladylike dresses.) Some of my "power" suits have followed me from the L.A. hustle and bustle where they served me well. They also did a pretty good job in Temecula and later I transported them out to La Quinta in the desert where they collected desert dust for ten years before recently moving to Wildomar. Now they just gently stare and wonder why I haven’t donated them to Angel View, our local charity.With manly lapels and straight skirts, the suits fill me with guilt for working from home. They also remind me of the 80’s and 90’s. Can’t think of too many great reasons for keeping them but political office? Not a chance!  

Two

Anyway,back to the second group of catalogs from my soon-to-be buff postman. What’s with that "Saving the World look" ladies? Don’t forget, Robin Hood and Peter Pan, though fictional characters, are both young men. Have I missed something important while being busy along the path of life? After all, I picked up People Magazine at the dentist and perused Us and Glamour Magazine before getting a mammogram. I mean how did I become so oblivious?

Of course, all the models look gorgeous in their leggings, flowing tunics and ankle boots but for lack of a quiver filled with arrows, you’d think we live in a place like Panem from the Hunger Games. Have women decided to give up femininity all together for the sake of political correctness--or is it to fight? Engage in battle? Win? Will I be outed as an enemy due to my weak looking, dress-wearing tendencies?   Should I swap my suits for tunics and leggings and join the androgynous march into tomorrow wearing tough looking ankle boots? Maybe I can arm-wrestle the postman and put a feather in my cap? Nah, I prefer tea-length dresses accompanied by intelligent conversation and a side of chocolate biscuits. Or perhaps a rendezvous at Starbucks, wearing my loose fitting jeans. 



(P.S. I'd mention the catalogs specifically, but don't want them to get mad at me. 
If you're curious then please send me an email-evegaal at gmail and I'll give you the name of the catalogs.)