Expressing versus exploding

As my journey on this planet continued and I gained confidence that I did indeed have a right to speak up for myself, and have a voice, wisdom and self-control has become my friend.

It’s never been my position that any of us ever have the right to be rude or belittle other people. Rather, it’s always been my position that if we are rooted in love and grounded from a sane estimate of ourselves, that our expressions will evolve from the sphere of dignity and grace. And, that speaking with a velvet voice truly becomes powerful. Sometimes, the quieter we speak, the more loudly we’re heard.

You ask, “Who am I kidding?” When the gal in the supermarket ahead of us is digging in her handbag for her debit card with two tired and cranky children wiggling around while a crying toddler straddled in the top of the shopping basket is trying to tear into a bag of chips, and all we want to do is just get through the line and head for home…the patron has the gall to ask if we mind waiting while they go fetch a jar of pickles they forgot, most of us aren’t thinking of finding our best velvet voice for our forthcoming verbiage.

No, we’re probably more than ready to give them a piece of our mind in our best screechy voice.

But, wait, where does that get us? And, how does it make us feel as we dash out to our car? Most of us will initially feel pompous for exercising our right to give that patron a piece of our mind for making us wait. But, as we drive home and calm down, we begin feeling like a heel and possibly even berate ourselves for our verbal explosion. A better way would be to express our thoughts about the scenario at hand from a position of personal power (adult dignity) and self-composure. We’d have a very different drive home!

Until next time…Top Blonde… speaking up!

I hope you’ll come back often to visit my site again.

A harvest of blessings

Sometimes life just gets so good I can hardly contain myself. That doesn’t happen very often because, like everyone, I too have my down times and have days that I wish would end almost the moment my feet hit the floor. But, for now, life is good, and I’ve been absorbing all the goodness bounding my way.

My harvest began September 30 while I checked my messages while sitting on a plane at Newark International Airport waiting to take flight. My final destination was the Fresno Yosemite International Airport, in California, and then an hour’s drive to my hometown of Visalia to attend my 45th class reunion. Upon checking messages, I discovered that my daughter Lesa, 9 months pregnant, was just beginning labor. About then, the captain announced it’s time to turn off all cell phones.

Two and a half hours later when we landed in Dallas Ft. Worth International Airport to change planes I couldn’t get my cell phone on fast enough to find out the latest development. The update on baby news was that Lesa was now about half way through her labor. It’s funny. When her baby passed his due date of September 24, I just knew she was going to have my first grandchild when I was up in the air! When I finally landed in Fresno a nerve wracking few hours later, she’d been a new mommy for almost two hours. Needless to say, everyone around me joined in my happiness with congratulations and smiles as we all disembarked.

From there, though my visit home wasn’t without its challenges as it was my first trip home since mom passed away last year, life goes on. I knew that mother would have been thrilled that I was able to make the reunion, reconnect with my past, and see family and friends. Dorothy was right in The Wizard of Oz when she said there is no place like home.
I’d arrived a couple days before the reunion to allow time for jet lag, catch my breath, and have my hair done. My trip home, true to form, kept me on the run…

Our reunion consisted of a Friday night social, the Saturday night dinner/dance, and a Sunday brunch. I went to everything. Forty-five years is a long time ago and most of us could hardly believe so much time had passed. We didn’t necessarily feel so different. We just looked older and better. I’ve been to previous reunions but missed the last one so reconnecting with my classmates, some of whom I started kindergarten with and went all the way through to high school graduation, was simply fantastic.

On past trips home, I’d reconnected with a nucleolus of girlfriends for lunching and this trip was no different. We met before the reunion to catch up and then again after to review that we saw, which we recognized, or didn’t, and discussed everything in between.
After the reunion, I spent most of the following week visiting with family until it was time for the next leg of my trip. I drove my rental car up into the hills of Oakhurst, about an hour’s drive below Yosemite National Park, to stay with my Aunt Betty, fondly called Aunt B., and Uncle Bert for my remaining two days in California.

Prior to my arrival in Oakhurst, Aunt B. had emailed some suggestions for our itinerary during my time with she and Uncle Bert. I really want to go to Yosemite to see the Redwoods, drink in the breathtaking beauty of nature, and take photographs of Half Dome. But, when Aunt B. invited me to her writing class on Friday morning, I decided that is what I should choose. It was a tug but visiting my aunt’s writing class was a unique opportunity I didn’t want to miss. While in the class I learned it’s a small world after all. I read my recent column about the County Store in River Vale where everyone knows your name. There was a lady in the class named Carolyn, who has a sister and a son who live in River Vale, New Jersey! I wonder if they are Community Life readers?

After a quick lunch Aunt B. and Uncle Bert surprised me by saying we were going to Yosemite after all. Snow was forecast that afternoon so we gathered up scarves, hats and gloves and set out up Highway 41 to see the most famously photographed rocks in the word, Half Dome and El Capitan. I was so excited I was about to levitate!

I had longed to smell the Redwoods and enjoy the awe-inspiring nature in the Yosemite Valley. And, now we were winding our way up the Sierra Nevada mountain range and would soon be viewing the grandeur of Yosemite that John Muri, a Scottish born American naturalist, loved and protected. We visited The Ahwahnee Hotel where my cousin Linda, had married many years ago. Ironically, we happened up a wedding party in the lobby just as the bride was about to say, “I do”. On my last visit to Yosemite fifteen years ago with my sister, Lezlie, we saw Michael Douglas. Aunt B., Uncle Bert and I had dinner at the Historic Wawona Hotel. By the late 1870’s the hotel had been transformed from a rustic inn into the “grandest hotel in the mountains of California”. If you go, be sure you check out the unique lampshades in the dining room dripping with pinecones.

Now that I’m back in the Pascack Valley I’ve come home renewed, encouraged, and inspired and am still soaking up my harvest of blessings.

Until next time… Top Blonde… taking the day!