Tom Berjeron Doesn't Like Me

I'm back from California.  After 47 days and nights in the desert, I have come to come to some  startling realizations, like an awakening.  For example, Tom Berjeron doesn't like me.  After all my ballroom dancing lessons at Arthur Murray, you would think the Dancing With The Stars MC would recognize me.  You can't tell it from his TV attire, but the guy is built like a linebacker.  I'm not kidding, he was wearing shorts and a muscle shirt with one of those "Let's Get Physical" sweat bands around his head and his grey hair all jelled up.  Oh, and he's really short.  I'm 5'6" and he stands below me by quite a bit.

I want to tell you though, he wasn't very friendly.  You would think he would love to meet me.  He stood behind me in line at Trader Joe's  in Palm Desert.  Over the years of vacationing there, I've seen several stars and they're always filled with joy when I present myself.  So, there I was, face-to-face with Berjeron and, believe it or not, he gave me an inappropriate lok of disgust like:  "Would you stop staring at me, lady?"

I admit, I spotted him in the store early on and followed him up and down the aisles to determine if in fact it was Tom Berjeron.  It took some time because his biceps were out of  proportion.  Usually body-builders have a thick neck, but TB doesn't.   He has a pencil neck with blown-up arms.  I wonder if Hollywood sub-stars like him  get shots or body sculpting to look like that?

At any rate, all I wanted to say is:  "I'm a fan."

Letterman Salute For All Time

What would you put in a time capsule to be uncovered in 100 years?  I've given this some thought as this is an item on my bucket list.  Possibilities include:

l.  A written ode to cats and their intrinsic value to society.

2.  A Superbowl program to illustrate the twentieth century creation of a new feasting holiday.

3.  A copy of George W. Bush's Harvard report card as proof that our nation elected a President with a 2.0 grade point average.  Anything is possible in America.

4.  A Charlie Sheen bowling shirt as an explanation for Adonis DNA.

5.  A student loan bill to show how we encumber  our children with debt and then offer no jobs for them when they graduate.


6.  An X-Ray of Kim Kardasian's ass.

7.  A copy of the Baltimore Catechism  as evidence of a pre-computer era when people could and did memorize an entire book, word for word, one book for each grade, first through eighth.

8.  A written salute to David Letterman:  I wouldn't give his troubles to a "Monkey on a rock!"

9.  A Starbuck's coffee card along with a Microsoft "Surface."  Is it a coincidence that both were created in the Seattle area at around the same time?  What is the true power of caffeine?  For more information go to:  Amazon.Com.

10.  A library card to commemorate the pre-Kindle era.

More to follow, but not for  a time as I will be traveling.

What would you include in your time capsule?

Don't Say "No, No" To Me!

Today I was severely reprimanded at my Zumba class.  I admit, the rebel in me defied the rules.  I have always had difficulty with obedience.  The sign said:  "STAFF ONLY."

I was reminded of a song:  "Signs, signs, everywhere a sign - blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind.  Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?" I guess I'm just a baby-boomer, hippie from the sixties, but a sign like "Do Not Enter" is an invitation to me.

Today, I endeavored to use the staff bathroom at Curves.  With the patron facilities occupied and three needy ladies in line and facing a dance class deadline, I did the unthinkable.  Unfortunately, the franchise owner discovered my serious transgression and asked me to leave the room.  She shooed me out like a dog.

She said:  "No, No" to me as if I were  a kindergartner.  Can you imagine the nerve of someone saying "No" to me?  Apparently she doesn't recognize who I am.  I am known, in this situation, as THE CUSTOMER!  I'm always right.

Cookie Tossing - Suitable Form

Yesterday, on my way home from yoga class, I began to ponder the proper etiquette for hurling while driving?  Do I pull over and vomit in a parking lot or do I "Suck it up" and toss my cookies in the car hoping I will be spared the humiliation of public puking?

Always my Father's daughter, aka a valiant warrior, I opted to drive on.  I threw up three times, bam-bam-bam, projectile vomit.  The debris was everywhere including dribbling down my chin; in my purse, soaking the carpet and my clothes.  Always the optimist, I decided to  continue my journey and mop up at home.  When "What to my wondering eyes should appear?" but a child crossing against the light just as I sped up to catch the green-means-go signal.

Lucky for him, he was wearing a helmet.  When I was growing up, we didn't have helmets, but we knew better than to cross a busy intersection on a red light.  The sign says:  "DON'T WALK" in blinking red.  Perhaps that's what confused him.

So, I stopped on a green light with drool on my chin.  The boy stopped in the middle of the  street and waved me on.  Really?  He's going to ride his bike against a red light, stop in the intersection, and  wave a crazy lady with vomit on her face to cross in front of him? 

He was so vulnerable;  so innocent; so prescious; and so in need of guidance.  I wanted to protect him; pull over and talk to him about safety.  I wanted to know where his parents were and why he didn't know better?  But, what could I do with the contents of my stomach in my lap?  I waved him to the curb safely with a smile and a prayer.

I love a good barf story.  Don't you? 

Unsubstantiated Knowledge

Years ago I wrote a column about "knowledge without learning."  I interviewed two or three learning specialists in the Federal Way and Seattle School Districts.  We discussed muscle memory, right brain versus left brain dominance, visual learners, audio learners, and various related topics.

I included the possibility that intuition, or a sixth sense, provided knowledge without learning.  How do we know what we know?  Did we learn all of our stored information?  If so, why do we question what we have learned?  Where do the questions come from if not our own mind and power of reasoning or are our questions merely deductions based on learning?Do we possess inherent information?  What is intuition if not knowledge without learning?

I think we know so much more than we are consciously aware of, but how do we access this part of us?

I'm wondering now if Agnes (my supposedly addled Grandmother) in balancing between two worlds, was actually experiencing unsubstantiated knowledge?  I think she really did see dead people.

Agnes Miracles

I admit, I was embarrassed when Agnes (my Grandmother) vacuumed the front sidewalk in her bathrobe.  She move in with the Madden family when I was three years old and I remember feeling appalled by her behavior.

In her demencia, she was mean-spirited, verbally abusive, and smelly, creating a sour odor I found pratically intolerable.  Still, I wish I knew her now because, with an adult understanding, I would have learned so much.

Agnes could speak to the dead.  As a child, it wasn't unusual to walk into an empty room with Agnes entertaining a meaningful conversation with her husband and children (five of them) who passed before her.

As a self-appointed Priestess, she possessed ancient Druid knowledge of the supernatural passed down through generations of Irish women.

Agnes vibrated at a high spiritual level with an understanding of manifestations of energy, miracles, astral-travel, and signs in nature such as banshee burn marks.  She was held in high regard with the Catholic church in Austin, Minnesota where she peformed many rituals with the dead to assist in their journey to the after-life.

When I was a child, I thought she was stupid.  Now I'm considering the possibility that she posessed knowledge I would have treasured.

Hail Mary and Agnes

If you remember Agnes from earlier blogs, you already know she was my Grandmother (on the Flaherty side) and she lived with the Madden family.

She was a self-appointed Priestess.  Before she joined the Madden family, she was a paid Irish Wailing Woman,, aka a professional mourner hired to attend funerals.

In her retirement, Agnes spent all of her waking hours praying for the souls of the faithful departed.  She could magically promote sinners from Purgatory to Heaven with her devotions.

She always had a rosary entwined  in her fingers.  The funniest memory I have of this woman was when the Madden family watched wrestling on TV.  She would swing her rosary around like a cowboy's lasso and yell:  "Kill him - snap his neck - step on his head - you God damn son-of-a-bitch."  Then, during the commercials she resumed her angelic pose and continue with:  "Hail Mary, full of grace."