Wednesday April  7 

There is an Uncanny Similarity between Plants, Construction and Kids!
I have a Magnolia tree that I planted in my front yard, when it was a baby only three inches high.  The arborist did not think that what looked like a three-inch stick would survive the move to my back yard.  I am not an arborist, but I knew if I talked to it every day, it would.

I placed it where it would get lots of sun and so I could always view it from my kitchen window.  I watered and talked to it, and petted all its tiny leaves.  A year later, it had grown over 15 feet high! But I never actually saw it expanding.  I had to wait another year for the first flower to bloom.  One morning, it was just there, like magic!

A large new shopping and condominium complex was under construction not far from our house.  I drove past it almost every day.  I saw trucks going back and forth, various equipment moving up and down, lots of workers huddled in groups talking, huge cranes swinging beams from one place to another, but I never saw any change take place in real time. Not like in the movie Witness where we watched every step of raising the barn (a scene I love) and we heard the banging of the hammers, and actually saw those planks becoming a structure before our eyes.

Instead, I pass by the following day and all of a sudden there is an a second floor, added rooms, another wall, more beams put in place and I ask myself-when did it all happen?  Why could I not see the actual change?  This site was like my Magnolia tree-I could stare at it all day and see no change.  But the next day, it had grown!

I told this to my son, as we were driving one day. 
See that construction?  Do you actually see anything taking place that makes the building taller right before your eyes? 
My son did not know whether to look at the construction site, or just stare at me with that-this is what I have to deal with when Mom drives.
No.
Ok.  When we come passed here tomorrow, that building will be much bigger!
My son resigns himself to the fact that such an observation is quintessential Mom!

Why am I telling you all of this?  Well, for one, I find it fascinating.  And for another, kids are the same.  We can stare at them all day and see no change.  Then the very next day, we look and they’re that much closer in height to our chest, our chin, and the top of our head.  All of a sudden, they are thinking more clearly and making more sense.  Overnight!  And no matter how much time we spend around them, they grow when we are not around!

Buildings must have the same secret night shift!  Next time you see any construction taking place, watch for a while and then come back the next day and tell me there isn’t some serious Rumpelstiltskin-ism going on!

Moral of This Observation:
Growth never takes place in plain sight, or in big ways.
It happens in tiny increments, not visible to the naked eye,
and always at times when you are not around or watching.

So, go have a cup of coffee, and relax. It will happen when you’re gone, and you will see it when you get back.  Promise!

 (From H20 to Go! Part 2-Moments in Time & The Heart, Humor and Optimism therein)

Friday April 2

...taking stock
cleaning “house”
searching within
and looking ahead…

sitting in prayer
honoring sacrifice
finding courage
and rejoicing in life...

showing goodness
seeking remembrance
asking forgiveness
and having faith…

joining friends
gathering family
hiding the matzoh
and burying Easter eggs...

Dear Friends…
So is this week of holiday and reflection…
Passover
Good Friday
Easter…

…of cherishing our children
who give to this earth its spirit and warmth
who offer the world its hope and its future…
who sit aside God, and have always his ear…
and who live in our hearts forever and some...

Monday March 29

Getting out from under the Terror of Clutter!

When my son was growing up, I was organized. I had to be. There were too many forms, and applications, doctor records, academic files, camp, baseball, etc, etc. etc.
But, when he went away to college the need to know where everything was, was not quite as crucial--that is, until I had to find a legal document and I had absolutely no idea where I had put it!
I took a three day weekend to go down memory lane, file, throw out and rebox. My home office had become a combination-attic, storage and catchall For three days, I gave it my undivided attention. No husband at home. No son home visiting. No neighbors' kids. And a day off from work. I sent Tonka (my dog) 2 days early to where he was born and where he loves to be when I am away. Tomorrow I go to New York
I could have spent a three day weekend doing something original or creative, but my office so greatly disturbed me, I had to act. I was scared and angry with myself. That did it! This chaos had to end! What if something happened to me? What if someone else had to find something! I simply could not subject anyone to such a mess if for no other reason than I would be too embarrassed! So, I dedicated the three days to getting myself out of a terrifying state.
I did not go on my computer until very late at night. I did not cook dinner. I did not answer phone calls. I watched movies all day long while working. And while watching, I organized important papers and found the document I was looking for. I unearthed pictures of days past, of when my son was a baby, and child and I looked so much younger! I reread funny, and wonderful essays and stories he wrote for English class. I peered back in time to the world of my parents, and grandparents, to holidays, and trips. birthday parties and gatherings.
So many of my own childhood memories came swirling back to me. So many of my momhood memories came vividly back to me. So much revisited me, that I swam totally lost in another time. I wasn't even hungry.
Is my office now clean and organized—absolutely not! Bags and emptied containers still strewn the floor. Not all is yet thrown away or sorted. I have piles in the hall and in another room. But temporary cardboard file boxes with all documents I need to have at my fingertips now sit on shelves. And, upon other shelves, now lay a richness of family past and history. I even bought a lovely box to put on my dresser in the bedroom. It contains mementos and a collection of photographs I most cherish. Should the sky fall in, should I have to leave my world in a hurry, I would grab that box.(And a pair of glasses!!!!) But, more likely, should I just want to reminisce or should my son come home and have time to sit, I can pull out his memento box, and my memento box, and share…
And perhaps more importantly, when I am no longer here, and should my grandchildren and great grandchildren want to peer into their past and my past, It will be there waiting…
Until then, should I need to know where my current life is, I now have more than a clue! Phew! Terror averted!
Margo@MomOinion Matters

Heart & Humor?

Day 76/365

FOR  THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE PETS, THIS IS A TRUE STORY.
FOR  THOSE THAT DON'T, IT IS A TRUE STORY.    
The  following was found posted very  low on  a refrigerator door.
Dear Dogs and Cats: 
The dishes on the floor with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. 

The other dishes are mine and contain my food.

Placing a paw print in the middle of my plate does not mean that it is suddenly your food,

nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
   
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack.
Racing me to the top of the stairs is not the object. 
Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this.

Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. 

Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. 

It Is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other, stretched out to the fullest extent possible. 

I also know that sticking tails straight out

and having tongues hanging out on the other end to maximize space that you are taking up,

is nothing but sarcasm.
    
For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom!
If, by some miracle, I beat you there and manage to get the door shut,
it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn  the knob or get
your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door. I must exit
through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years -

canine/feline attendance is not  required.  
The proper order for kissing is:  Kiss me FIRST, then go smell
the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough.   
Finally, in fairness, dear pets, I have posted the following message on the front door:
TO ALL NON-PET OWNERS WHO VISIT AND LIKE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT OUR PETS:  
(1) They live here.  You don't.      
(2) If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. That's why they call it 'fur'-niture.      
(3) I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.      
(4) To you, they are animals. To me, they are adopted sons/daughters 

who are short, hairy, walk on all fours and don't speak clearly.  
Remember, dogs and cats are better than kids because they:    
(1) eat less
(2) don't ask for money all the time,  
(3) are easier to train,    
(4) normally come when called,      
(5) never ask to drive the car,     
(6) don't hang out with drug-using people;       
(7) don't smoke or drink,        
(8) don't want to wear your clothes,      
(9) don't have to buy the latest fashions,     
(10) don't need a gazillion dollars for college and     
(11) if they get pregnant, you can sell their children ...
 

Wednesday March 24/Tuesday March 23

Ok..I love Seniors. Some of the people I love most and like best in the world, are Seniors,
BUT!!!!!!!! Some of them do truly need to get off the road!!!!
No height discrimination intended but, anyone whose head you cannot see behind the steering wheel-

the headless driver-needs to be in passenger seat!

I drive home yesterday, and every so often, there develops a line behind a car with the beloved Senior Headless Driver
(you know right away a beloved Senior Headless Driver is present when a lot of visible, empty lane space develops in front of the car.)
And so, cars start to cut out from either side of this  beloved Senior Headless Driver;s car

in a desperate effort to get passed and lay claim to all that empty road.
I am in the far left lane, and so they cut in front of me, to get back into the middle lane. I am now in danger of being clipped by
-every frustrated,
-having a bad hair day,
-always wanted to be a race car driver,
definitely visible head case!!

I pass by the car with the beloved Senior, Headless Driver. I look. There she sits, shoulders hunched, head way up and frozen in place,
chin barely reaching the bottom of the steering wheel, both hands gripped in place, glasses focused dead ahead,
totally oblivious to the chaos she is creating, by going a whopping 50 miles an hour in the middle lane,

on a highway that posts a speed limit of 65, and where most cars average 75-80 miles per hour!

I think of the dent on the side of my car, I have yet to repair.
A Senior had veered into my lane near home. We both pulled over. An older woman passenger got out to discuss the dent.
She told her husband, it turned out, to stay inside. I could not immediately see him. Finally, in spite of her,

and because I said I needed to talk to him, he very slowly climbed out. My heart stopped.
He shook, and shook a lot. It was not nerves–Did he have Parkinson's Disease? Was he actually driving with Parkinson's!!
I looked from him to his wife, who was clearly trying to cover for him. I was utterly speechless--
torn on the one hand between my upbringing--elder citizens should always be respected and given deference,

and my sympathy for his look of concern, and on the other hand, my sense of justice and logic--
this was not my fault, it was going to be a very expensive repair, and besides, were they insane!
What was this man doing driving?

I look in my rear view mirror. I am now passed my beloved Senior, Headless Driver.
God Bless her.  May she get where she is going safely, without getting herself or anyone else in an accident!
And I think-who would ever have thought that our beloved, multi-tasking, teenage drivers

and our beloved Senior, Headless Drivers could illicit the exact same road terror!

Thursday March 18
Where The Wild Things Are-The Film-My Review
A number of people asked me if I saw Where the wild Things Are. Several days ago, I finally sat down and watched it On Demand.
People then asked me what I thought?  I wasn’t sure. What was it that bothered me about this film?  Something.  I went looking for my original copy of Sendak’s picture book, sat down and reread it.  Then I knew.

I have come to feel that few directors really know how to get under a child's skin. John Hughes (who wrote the Home Alone Series), Spielberg, and Disney/Pixar are some of the few who can.  Unfortunately, Spike Jonze does not fall into that category.. His movie version of Where the Wild Things Are is directed from the point of view of an adult looking at a child’s behavior.  Sendak’s picture book, on the other hand, is written from the point of view of a child looking at adult reactions. Sendak created a story that all children could understand-literally. Spike Jonze who wrote/directed/ collaborated on Precious and Being John Malkovitch (to name two movies I saw and greatly admired) in this case, should have stayed true to Sendak’s story because a book as well as a film are literal to a child. Young children do not read a picture story, and then wonder about the symbolism or themes.  They do not see a movie and then wonder about the motives behind the action and dialogue.  What they actually see in pictures and hear in words is what they know and understand.

And it is in this context, that I think Where the Wild Things Are fell short as a potentially wondrous children’s movie.  Spike Jonze worked in close collaboration with Sendak. The characters were marvelously reproduced. And, I did love Max.  I am a Mom. I have a son. I understood his wild side completely. But the original story was not about how I would have perceived Max, but rather how Max perceived me, my world, and his place in it.

Sendak’s picture book was very clear.  Max gets punished for being wild and because he says 'I’ll Eat you UP!!...is sent to bed without eating anything.' His room starts to grow into a forest, 'a boat tumbles by' and after 'almost a year' of sailing he lands on the shore where the Wild Things live. The only understanding we need thus far, is that Max has been given a time out, and his vivid imagination takes him on an extraordinary make-believe adventure.  

Max then confronts the Wild Things who gnash and roar at him and he stills them by 'staring into their yellow eyes without blinking once, and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things.' This event is very clear to a child.    Max becomes king by performing a simple physical trick that all children can easily understand and copy. Besides which, at no point is Max terribly frightened by all the roaring and gnashing and showing of claws. Max and the Wild Things have wild fun, after which Max proclaims 'Now Stop! He sent the Wild Things off to bed without their supper.'  Then Max  'was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.’  So he decides to get back into 'his private boat' and return home even though the wild things roar and gnash and say 'we’ll eat you up-we love you so!'  He sails until he lands back in his room 'where he found his supper waiting for him.'
 
None of these plot points occurs in the movie version. In the movie 1) True, Max is being wild and he chases his dog. But, he destroys the picture frame he made for his sister because her friends teased him and he continues to act out while his mother is trying to entertain her boyfriend. She really wants him to behave, he feels neglected, he keeps getting wilder and wilder, one thing leads to another, she grabs his arm to tell him to stop, and he bites her. She is furious, he breaks free, runs out of the house and down the street.  His mother runs after him, calling for him to come back.  (By the way, the boyfriend doesn’t come out and join the Mom-I thought that was odd) Max keeps running until he finds a pond and a boat and he sails away until he lands on some distant shore. 2) He becomes King by telling the Wild Things stories about his magical feats and the  Wild Things are very impressed and after much debate and discussion amongst each other, decide he must be very powerful and deem him King. 3) When the Wild Things discover that he is not really a King, Carrol (the lead Wild Thing) is furious and is looking to eat Max. Max knows he has deeply disappointed all The Wild Things. Feeling guilty that he lied, and knowing he no longer has a role in their world, Max feels lonely and homesick and wants to return home. The Wild Things do see him off in the end, and it is implied that the positive role he played was in bettering the Wild Things' relationships with each other.
 
None of this was in the book.  And, in my opinion, the 'adult' Wild Thing back stories, and angst was not needed.  The seven Wild Things could have been fleshed out in a much more innocent and childlike way.  The movie would have been much better had it stayed literal, and had Max banished to his room-not running out into the street; staring the wild things down-not telling abstract stories; and going home simply because he was homesick-not because he had told a lie and disappointed those he had grown fond of.

In the final scene, on screen, Max sits in the kitchen and wolfs down food  his mother has made for him.  She stars at him while he eats.  We can read lots of meaning in both their faces.  But a young child will get nothing from this last scene except that Max is back home at his kitchen table with his mother.

Sometimes a director needs to change the events in a book to make a movie work as a visual medium. But this story could have been filmed exactly the way it was originally written-only fuller. I think when we take a beloved book and tinker with it, we risk losing its voice and its charm After all, it is beloved for a reason.  And we need to understand and respect that reason. Here perhaps is one clue Sendak might have wanted to remember, and Jonze might have wanted to heed. When Where the Wild Things Are first came out (1963) critics did not like it.  But children were taking it out from the library all the time. It took two years before the critics came around. (See Wikipedia) Why?  What was is that children saw, that the critics didn’t see?

When I saw the first Harry Potter movie, The Philosopher’s Stone, I wondered where all the humor and whimsy of A.K. Rowling’s book had gone?  I asked the same of this movie. It is hard to do whimsy--but so important for children and an ingredient they adore in literature, and film.

To all directors and screenwriters thinking of adapting children’s stories to film. Look to Pixar.  They know how to do whimsy and humor. Go back in time and think like a child, remember what it was like to see things even with great exaggeration, still with great simplicity.  And you know what? We adults will be ever so grateful to go back there too!
 Margo@MomOpinion Matters
Wednesday March 17


A Blessing from St. Patrick)
  May the road rise to meet you, 
May the wind be always at your back, 
May the sun shine warm upon your face, 
May the rains fall soft upon your fields, 
And, until we meet again, 
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.  
 (Traditional Irish Blessing; origin unknown, 
although some attribute it to St. Patrick.)
Tuesday March 16
Where Is A Concrete Jungle When You Need One!
I assume by now you know I'm an ex-New Yorker because I’m always referring to something from my city childhood. Another phrase that comes to mind about the Big Apple is ‘Concrete Jungle.’  I never thought about it when I lived there. I didn’t realize that there was that much concrete until I moved to Washington and met so much ground and so many trees. 

We have now had the blizzard of 2010. We have also had an enormous amount of rain.  I look out at my front lawn.  Grass? It is a sea of mud.  My husband says we will have to build it up. That will cost a fortune. I look at the trees. They  are exhaling pollen.  I was told if you live in Washington long enough, you’ll develop allergies. I have been here 23 years. Need I say more.

My dog, Tonka is oblivious to the swamp, or leaf fumes. Mushy ground feels good and he doesn’t sneeze. Even in my son’s worst toddler moment of finger painting with mud--it was much more liberating than finger painting at pre-school where, because he was required to wear a smock and because he refused, he didn’t finger paint at all until he got home and went outside NOT to a concrete jungle that would have been terrific for crayons but rather into lots and lots of wet dirt where his fingers became ten brushes painting ANYTHING and EVERYTHING---even then, my toddler graffiti artist could not compare to my-let’s play fetch and get the Kong completely saturated with mud and fling it against my owner Mom, and how about running and sliding and digging my paws deep into wet dirt and then jumping all over my owner Mom’s good clothes that she didn’t have a chance to take off, that are now full of ground in soil that never totally comes out in the wash or at the cleaners- DOG! 

So, I ask you.  Where is the concrete jungle when I need it!!  Clean clothes, no swamp, nada sneezes! It wouldn’t look that bad.  I’d keep the white picket fence and the holly trees on either side of my front door. 2 trees surrounded by concrete!!! Think 2 Trees Grow in Brooklyn meets DC!  And, nobody has to wear a smock!!!  I’m getting estimates tomorrow!!!


Sunday March 14

And speaking of Bag Ladies-More Food For Thought

I received this story via email from a friend.  I share it with you.                                                                          

Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. The man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time it was estimated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.
After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.
4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.                  
6 minutes:                                                                
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.                                          
10 minutes:                                                              
A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.                      
45 minutes:                                                              
The musician played continuously.  Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace.  The man collected a total of $32.                                  
1 hour:                                                                  
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.                                
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.                                                                                  
This is a true story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.                                
The questions raised:                                                    
*In a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?        

*Do we stop to appreciate it?                                        
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?                      
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:      
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made, how many other things are we missing?  How many special people pass us by and we do not make any effort to get to know them?                                                                                    

Comments Welcomed  

Saturday March 13

Modern Day Bag Ladies:

When I was growing up bag ladies were all over New York City.  I remember being very young and asking my father why they walked around pushing a stuffed cart or sat on the sidewalk surrounded by lots of shopping bags?
Because, my father explained,  they have no home.
And why do they have all those bags?
Because they have no closets or dressers and that is where they keep their clothes.
This revelation bothered me greatly.

My father passed away many years ago, I am now older than my father was when I asked him those questions. But I thought about him and that conversation today. There were a ton of errands to do after having been away.  I needed to go to the grocery store, the drugstore and my little local market for bread.
And what did I notice? Bag ladies!!!!! Lots of them.   But these ladies were not homeless. Some probably had more than one home.  And to be sure, all had closets and dressers.(albeit not enough for everything!)  They were not pushing a cart or sitting on a sidewalk with all their belongings. But they were carrying an assortment of bags-empty bags-to hand to the clerk or cashier to fill.

And I thought- isn't it interesting that we are fast becoming a community of store bag ladies!  I know this trend is supposed to be saving money, helping someone or improving something. I put a whole bunch in my car trunk that I keep forgetting to take into the store. So I continually get asked if I need a bag? And since I always buy more than is possible to carry, I continually have to say yes to a 5 cent bag. I must have 50 cents worth of bags now waiting to be put to some use.

I wonder what the street bag ladies think of the store bag ladies? Theirs are filled with their belongings.  Ours are now filled with our shopping.

Maybe cashiers should just put an empty bag on the counter and ask if we'd like to donate 5 cents to go into that empty bag.  The bag could then be given to some person to fill with her own groceries and she would then be the exact same kind of bag lady we are! Also, I (for one)would know exactly where my 5 cents was going!

Am I healthily suspicious of my 5 cents going to some big, vague, future, expensive project such as saving a river? Yup! Am I still a softy for street bag ladies? Yup.

Food for thought to be put in the bag that sits in the trunk of my car.

Margo@MomOpinion Matters

Comments Welcomed 

Friday March 12/

Back From The Land of Avatar!

Leaving the Land of Avatar produced a series of firsts.  I arrive at Oakland airport relatively early. My flight does not take off until 11:30pm. It is Monday night. 10pm. The airport is practically empty.  Very quiet.
First #1
I make my way to security, and for THE FIRST TIME EVER I AM THE ONLY ONE IN THE SECURITY LINE! I kid you not.  No one in front of me, no one behind me. No one coming along. No one. Any where.  Have you any idea how weird that is?  The mind starts to race.  What is wrong here?  Am I in Twilight Zone? Why are all these security people just standing round talking and staring at me? I start to second-guess my name, my social security number, what I have on my body, and in my bag,
First #2

I go through the metal detector. They always go off because I have a rod in my leg from an accident on a tennis court.  FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER THE ALARM DOES NOT GO OFF! I do not understand.  Should I be happy that they will not pad me down, or should I worry that security is not up to snuff.   I ask the official while putting my shoes back on, why I am the only one in the security line? He says I hit a pocket. There was a huge crowd not long before I got there.  Huge crowd?  Where are they? 
I make my way to my gate.  As I near it, I hear laughing, and talking, and as one might see the lights of a city beyond, so I begin to see a sea of bodies.  Lots and lots of teenagers. All seated in chairs or on the floor at my gate. They are going on my flight.  An older man says he hopes they will not be as noisy on the plane.
They get boarded first.  It takes forever. The plane is packed. Not an empty seat. Two of these teens are sitting with me.  I ask if they are on a tour?  Yes, they are a symphony orchestra on their way to play at the White House. I am very impressed.  They can make noise.
First #3.
We land. Everyone gets up to open his or her overhead bin. What I had not noticed when we boarded was that every single student has an instrument.  And all those instruments must be taken from the bins. They have been tucked away behind other luggage and paraphernalia. This is a very long process. FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, I WATCH VIOLIN CASES COME OUT OF ALMOST EVERY OVERHEAD BIN.
FIRST #4. 
I get home at 9am in the morning.  FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, I SLEEP UNTIL 3PM IN THE AFTERNOON!
So, I am back. Did I have a wonderful time?  Yes. Am I happy to be home? Yes. 
Land of Avatar won best trip in my book.  I adored seeing my son. I had such a good time with all his friends. And I was blown away by how great his townhouse was that he shares with three others.  He cooks; he cleans-who knew he had such talents!!!
I also loved being with my childhood friend. We laughed, we ate, we walked, we talked, we watched the Academy Awards and we gossiped about face-lifts, and dresses. 
And, I have come away with one new realization.  I can take East Coast cold.  I cannot take West Coast cold.  It is different.  There is a dampness that produces a chill that goes right through me. When I got off the plane in DC it was 40 degrees. I was not cold.  When I got off the plane in San Francisco it was 50 degrees and I was freezing. Looking back, I now know why people had on Uggs in LA.  Had I known how cold it was going to be, I could have worn mine! I would have fit right in! 
Back from the Land of Avatar with warm memories.(see previous blogs)

Have a great shorter weekend.
I will mourn the lost hour!
margo@MomOpinion

Sunday March 7-From California

Going 60's in the Land of Avatar

Well, I thought I’d be able to write on Friday-what was I thinking?  I arrived in Berkeley and was going non-stop from the minute I landed.

Berkeley-what can I say? If Los Angeles was the Land of Avatar gone Hollywood,then Berkeley is the Land of Avatar gone 60’s. I am of the original 60’s. The tie-dye, long haired, flower power generation who spent hours debating politics and social issues, and when some were not demonstrating against the Vietnam War, were at Woodstock or listening to rock, jazz, Marvin Gaye and Bob Marley, That was my era, although truth be known, I did not like crowds so demonstrations and rock concerts were not part of my bio. I also grew up, and out, worked, married, became a mom and an Independent.

But, I arrive in the Land of Avatar-Berkeley and am immediately transported back. It is not as if I see that many aging hippies-but, it's rather that I see any, and enough to notice! There is something almost eerie about an aging hippie. It’s like looking at the male version of an aging blond who still wants to go “Barbarella”. I want to say-No! Go get new clothes.  We’re not there anymore.  That was then and it was great in real time. Now, you just look like a relic in a museum.

Also, everything is dramatically “green”. If heaven forbid I were rushed, or simply wanted the thrill of engaging in banned behavior, and put trash in the wrong receptacle I would be in fear of sirens going off, a Green Patrol swooping down on me, and greenies demanding to see my environmental credentials!

My childhood friend lives not five minutes from here.  She is an excellent homeopath. And, I love visiting her. I always eat so well when I am out here. I do truly love the food in California.  And I also realize that as an ex-New Yorker, and 24 year Washingtonian, it’s really important to get out of East Coastdum and be amongst other lifestyles and patterns. I am sitting in a local cafe waiting for her to finish up with a client. So, I get to look around.  At first glance, the people in the café look no different from anyone I might see in Washington, at a local Starbucks, except- no business attire on anyone. no sense of rushed purpose in expression or walk. I look at the older faces and wonder where they were back then? I look at the younger faces and wonder what they think of Washington? I wonder what they would think of me?

Sitting in a café in Berkeley, in the Land of Avatar gone mellow. Can I deal with that? Absolutely.  I shall be returning to the other side of mellow none too soon.
Stayed tuned!

Wednesday March 3-From California

Time Change in the Land of Avatar
I get back to the hotel after taking 4 of my son's friends to dinner. What fun to watch kids eat like they are on a perpetual economic fast that gets broken only when a parent arrives to force feed them with the bribe of lots of free food! Once fed, they are so much fun to be around--so full of purpose and drive, and humor!

I return some email, etc. then look at the time. It is 11pm. I think -3 hour difference-maybe my husband is still in his office-it's only 8pm there-I call the office, no answer. Good, I think, he's not working late. I call home.
He answers right away-are you ok? Is everything all right?
Yes, I'm fine, I answer confused. Why?
Do you realize that it's 2 o'clock in the morning?

Why, when I was returning emails and my computer read 2:00am, did I dismiss it with a simple-hmm, ‘that's weird!' It's not as if this is my first time in California. Was is it that the boots in 62 degrees had a trickle down affect and completely disoriented me? (See March 1 blog)

Going to sleep in the land of Avatar at 3:09am eastern standard time-when I wake up who knows!