Ich lerne Deutsch zu sprechen
(I am learning to speak German!)
OK, I'll admit I had to do a Google translation just to be sure I got the title to this blog post right. My lessons in Deutsch haven't gotten me to the point of being able to have a real conversation using the German language yet, but someday I fully intend to be able to do just that.
You know, just in case I run into a real German some where ... like in Germany, for example!
I've always been intrigued by the German language, probably because a large part of my heritage is German. I'm also part American Indian (Cherokee) English, and a pint or two of Irish (or is it Scottish?) mixed in.
Oh, fine .. born and raised in southern Ohio, I am more plain old "Appalachian" than anything. Not that the Appalachian people are truly plain. To the contrary, they are fascinating. I've studied that culture a good bit, but I already speak "Appalachian" so, no need to order lessons from "Rosetta Stone" (No, I don't really believe there is such a course available)
I studied German in high school and am surprised at how much of it is coming back to me in these early lessons. I also remember enough about it, to not be surprised that the "genders" of nouns still drive me crazy. That part of each lesson is proving to be every bit as difficult for me as it was those many years ago.
Overall, I find this to be encouraging, as I am convinced that all that information is still floating around in my cranium somewhere and will make it easier for me to learn the language beyond reading signs and locating restrooms when the need presents itself.
So, there you have it!
"Ich lerne Deutsch zu sprechen" and I'm having a blast just thinking of how it's going to pay off in the future!
Auf Wiedersehen!
(I didn't even have to Google that one!)
Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Reinvention Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
Follow Your Passion! Pursue Your Purpose!
Become the Person You Know You Were Born to Be!
(in this case, even if it's an old German woman! lol)
Showing posts with label life coach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life coach. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Somebody Burned My Bridge!
I have a secret.
I've battled depression most of my life. When I say "battled" I mean I've fought tooth and nail on a daily basis to cling to a certain degree of joy.
Of course I've been more successful in some seasons than in others.
In the process of maintaining happiness, I've developed different coping skills. One of my favorites is something I refer to as "building bridges." Whenever I feel overwhelmed or know there's something unpleasant on the horizon, I mentally build a bridge which leads to the next foreseeable "positive" event. I focus on that instead of the sadness or fear that's currently threatening me and move toward it instead of wallowing in the present.
This approach is different than "denial" (although sometimes denial can be a wonderful thing)as I do address and deal with the negative situations in my life. I just focus ahead on better things to come and that helps me get through.
For the last couple years I've been gearing myself up for my fiftieth birthday. I started planning my big, no ... make that HUGE celebration, almost as soon as I realized there would be no stopping the big 5-0.
I'm just being honest. It isn't so much that I'm thrilled about being fifty and want the world to stop and acknowledge my big day by throwing me a party. It's more because I'm dreading joining the ranks of the women who've left their forties (and their "prime" according to popular belief) behind.
So in my attempt to cope, I decided to build one of my trusty bridges over my birthday. I figured a big party would do the trick. Something I could truly enjoy that would provide a distraction from the fact I'm turning fifty.
I suppose that rather than saying I've been "planning" my birthday party, I should say I started making my wishes known to those people who would be in charge of making the arrangements. Who, after all, wants to plan their own birthday celebration?
I've had a pretty good run, if I do say so myself. Looking forward to my birthday party ... what I thought would surely be the biggest celebration of my lifetime, has gotten me through for almost two years now. I've envisioned myself opening the Wendy Williams show in NYC, then jetting off to Puerto Vallarta to sit on the sand, basking in the sunshine over Banderas Bay for a week. After that, I'd fly home hopefully in time to welcome my sixth grandchild into the world.
Given the possibility that all goes well, before I know it we'll be well into September and my birthday will be long passed. I'll have nothing but beautiful memories of the exciting events of the summer of 2010.
Oh, and I'll be fifty years old.
I've got to say, this is one of the best "bridges" I've ever constructed!
So you might imagine my dismay now that I've come to realize someone has gone and burned my bridge!
What a dastardly deed!
With less than three weeks to go, it's too late to start re-building now. Part of me wants to believe there may still be the celebration I've been dreaming of. Elves perhaps, may step in and re-build my bridge while I'm sleeping.
In my world there's always room for miracles.
But realistically, I understand that's probably just not going to be the case. The bridge is gone, blasted away by lack of finances and other annoyances commonly associated with the real world.
What a downer! What lousy timing!
As always is the case, I will adjust and move on toward some glimmer of light in the distance. Worse things than turning fifty could happen to a girl. I could not be having another birthday at all.
Yes, it could be worse. I apologize for all the whining.
It's just that I worked so hard on this particular bridge. It hurts to see it lying in rubble.
Becky Taylor
July 27, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.webs.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
I've battled depression most of my life. When I say "battled" I mean I've fought tooth and nail on a daily basis to cling to a certain degree of joy.
Of course I've been more successful in some seasons than in others.
In the process of maintaining happiness, I've developed different coping skills. One of my favorites is something I refer to as "building bridges." Whenever I feel overwhelmed or know there's something unpleasant on the horizon, I mentally build a bridge which leads to the next foreseeable "positive" event. I focus on that instead of the sadness or fear that's currently threatening me and move toward it instead of wallowing in the present.
This approach is different than "denial" (although sometimes denial can be a wonderful thing)as I do address and deal with the negative situations in my life. I just focus ahead on better things to come and that helps me get through.
For the last couple years I've been gearing myself up for my fiftieth birthday. I started planning my big, no ... make that HUGE celebration, almost as soon as I realized there would be no stopping the big 5-0.
I'm just being honest. It isn't so much that I'm thrilled about being fifty and want the world to stop and acknowledge my big day by throwing me a party. It's more because I'm dreading joining the ranks of the women who've left their forties (and their "prime" according to popular belief) behind.
So in my attempt to cope, I decided to build one of my trusty bridges over my birthday. I figured a big party would do the trick. Something I could truly enjoy that would provide a distraction from the fact I'm turning fifty.
I suppose that rather than saying I've been "planning" my birthday party, I should say I started making my wishes known to those people who would be in charge of making the arrangements. Who, after all, wants to plan their own birthday celebration?
I've had a pretty good run, if I do say so myself. Looking forward to my birthday party ... what I thought would surely be the biggest celebration of my lifetime, has gotten me through for almost two years now. I've envisioned myself opening the Wendy Williams show in NYC, then jetting off to Puerto Vallarta to sit on the sand, basking in the sunshine over Banderas Bay for a week. After that, I'd fly home hopefully in time to welcome my sixth grandchild into the world.
Given the possibility that all goes well, before I know it we'll be well into September and my birthday will be long passed. I'll have nothing but beautiful memories of the exciting events of the summer of 2010.
Oh, and I'll be fifty years old.
I've got to say, this is one of the best "bridges" I've ever constructed!
So you might imagine my dismay now that I've come to realize someone has gone and burned my bridge!
What a dastardly deed!
With less than three weeks to go, it's too late to start re-building now. Part of me wants to believe there may still be the celebration I've been dreaming of. Elves perhaps, may step in and re-build my bridge while I'm sleeping.
In my world there's always room for miracles.
But realistically, I understand that's probably just not going to be the case. The bridge is gone, blasted away by lack of finances and other annoyances commonly associated with the real world.
What a downer! What lousy timing!
As always is the case, I will adjust and move on toward some glimmer of light in the distance. Worse things than turning fifty could happen to a girl. I could not be having another birthday at all.
Yes, it could be worse. I apologize for all the whining.
It's just that I worked so hard on this particular bridge. It hurts to see it lying in rubble.
Becky Taylor
July 27, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.webs.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thirty One? Are You Kidding Me?
According to some dim-witted report I heard on a news shows this morning, a woman is at her "most beautiful" at age thirty-one.
What the ....?
Is it just me, or is that not one of the craziest things you've ever heard?
Unless you happen to be a thirty-one year old woman, and even then you might find this report a bit disturbing ... depending on whether or not you're pleased with your appearance at this particular age. If you're not, well you might be thinking "Oh great! So this is as good as it gets! Pass the double chocolate chip ice cream please, I'm doomed!"
Then there are the rest of us who passed that so-called age of "perfection" without even realizing it.
I'm sorry, but I didn't need this kind of depressing information less than four weeks before my fiftieth birthday, (and nearly nineteen years after my thirty-first!)
What ever happened to "Fifty is the new thirty"? Even then, they were referring to a state of youth and not necessarily "beauty". (Didn't someone actually say that recently, or is that something I made up myself? We old, out of shape, way past our prime women tend to be delusional, after all.)
Seriously though. Where did the people who came up with that answer to the question, "At what age is a woman the most beautiful?" get their information, and why did it merit fifteen seconds of fame on the morning news?
For that matter, why did anyone feel the need to pin "most beautiful" to any particular age in the first place?
I protest and I believe all other non-thirty-one year old women should do the same. "Beauty" cannot be assigned an age at which it peaks. Shame on whomever it was who decided differently.
I'm fairly certain we haven't heard the last of this one, folks. Just wait until the "Dove Campaign for Real Beauty" people get their hands on this information! Surely they'll set some people straight on the matter.
In the mean time, here's to the truly beautiful people, no matter how old (or young) you may be.
Becky J. Taylor
July 19, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
What the ....?
Is it just me, or is that not one of the craziest things you've ever heard?
Unless you happen to be a thirty-one year old woman, and even then you might find this report a bit disturbing ... depending on whether or not you're pleased with your appearance at this particular age. If you're not, well you might be thinking "Oh great! So this is as good as it gets! Pass the double chocolate chip ice cream please, I'm doomed!"
Then there are the rest of us who passed that so-called age of "perfection" without even realizing it.
I'm sorry, but I didn't need this kind of depressing information less than four weeks before my fiftieth birthday, (and nearly nineteen years after my thirty-first!)
What ever happened to "Fifty is the new thirty"? Even then, they were referring to a state of youth and not necessarily "beauty". (Didn't someone actually say that recently, or is that something I made up myself? We old, out of shape, way past our prime women tend to be delusional, after all.)
Seriously though. Where did the people who came up with that answer to the question, "At what age is a woman the most beautiful?" get their information, and why did it merit fifteen seconds of fame on the morning news?
For that matter, why did anyone feel the need to pin "most beautiful" to any particular age in the first place?
I protest and I believe all other non-thirty-one year old women should do the same. "Beauty" cannot be assigned an age at which it peaks. Shame on whomever it was who decided differently.
I'm fairly certain we haven't heard the last of this one, folks. Just wait until the "Dove Campaign for Real Beauty" people get their hands on this information! Surely they'll set some people straight on the matter.
In the mean time, here's to the truly beautiful people, no matter how old (or young) you may be.
Becky J. Taylor
July 19, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Friday, July 16, 2010
A-Weigh We Go!
I realize I am beginning to sound very "fifty-ish" in my recent blog posts. I can't help it! My concerns during recent months have been mostly about finances, sleepless nights and weight gain!
I'm happy to report some progress in regard to my weight! I found a website that has so un-complicated things, I can't believe how easily I've begun to lose weight. I started the diet (although I can't even honestly call it a diet)less than a week ago and my shorts are already beginning to feel loose.
The website is http://www.caloriecount.about.com
It's approach is exactly as the name implies. I joined for FREE, then set up my profile with information like how much weight I want to lose (20 lbs) and when I want it all to be gone.
Each day I keep a log of what I've had to eat and enter it onto the site. Voila'! It calculates how many calories, and other nutritional information my food intake contains. Also, based on my answers to some questions it prompted me to answer, it tells me how many calories I am taking in versus how many calories I am burning each day.
But wait! There's more!
There's also a place to log activities, not just exercise but every day household activities like putting away laundry and even bathing, and calculates how many calories I've burned.
After all this time I've been fretting over trying to drop a few pounds, attempting to exercise, cut back on sweets, etc. Who would've thought success could be so simple as watching my calories every day.
Did I mention I've not been hungry even once since I started? Well, I haven't! That's the beauty of it. Because I'm conscious of my calorie intake, I keep track of it all day long and pace myself accordingly. So far I am averaging less than 1400 calories a day. YAY!
Oh yeah! I'm pumped! I may be back in one of those cute little bathing suits by my birthday after all.
I guess I should also mention that the site did burst my bubble a little by telling me I couldn't possibly lose 20lbs by August 13th. It suggested that mid September might be a more realistic goal. Oh well. We'll see how that goes. Even if I've only lost 10 lbs by my birthday I'll be ecstatic.
So here I go! Success at last. I'm losing weight the old fashioned way and I like it!
Becky J. Taylor
July 16, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Where's David Tutera When You Need Him?
Mr. Taylor seems to be having some difficulty coming up with a good plan for my birthday. Apparently he got the memo that this particular birthday is very important to me and has been scrambling accordingly.
I'm a little nervous.
A couple years ago, I told him exactly what I wanted to do to usher in the big 5-Oh! I wanted a beach in Mexico with my kids and grandkids for a week (or more if possible), highlighted with a major party to celebrate the impending BEST years of my life!
Well, life happens while you're making other plans, right?
Little did I know that my daughter, Angel would be in her last week or so of pregnancy when the date arrives. So much for having my kids and grandkids in Mexico with me at that time.
It also throws a wrench in my plans because I'm not all too sure I want to be out of the country when my sixth grandchild arrives. I've been by both my daughter's sides when they delivered the first five grand babies and well, I'm just not convinced they could do it without me.
Throw in the fact that our finances have drastically changed since I first voiced my preference for my 50th birthday party and honey, we have ourselves a situation.
I don't know what to do, but I do know I'm going to be terribly disappointed if Friday August 13th arrives and passes without something major being done to recognize the date.
I'm not usually a very selfish kind of person, but this is different. This calls for serious intervention from an expert.
Where's David Tutera when you need him?
David Tutera is a famous party-planner and has a hit t.v. show, "My Fair Wedding". Every week on t.v., I admire him as he appears to brides in distress and re-plans their weddings a mere three weeks from the big day. I love how he makes dreams come true for all those "Queen for a day" wannabees... like me, only I'm not getting married. I'm just turning 50!
If I could design the perfect birthday celebration (without regard to questionable finances and the potential arrival of a new grand-child)it would begin with me opening the Friday the 13th "Wendy Williams" show in NYC. Friday's episodes are taped on Thursday afternoon so I could easily open her show, then fly to Mexico in time for my actual birthday.
My not currently pregnant daughter, Emily and her family would fly with me and Mr. Taylor, both to the Wendy Williams taping and on to Mexico.
Once in Mexico, we'd check into an exclusive resort. I found a great one for about $600 USD/day. If memory serves me correctly, that price includes room/food/daily massages, etc. for at least eight people so that's only about $75 USD/day.
There, we would enjoy at least a week of endless sunshine, zip-lining, dinner at "Rhythms of the Night", horsback riding, food and whatever other festivities strike my fifty year old fancy.
Does that sound like a fantastic plan or what?
This all started yesterday when I caught myself feeling a little down about the possibility of not celebrating my 50th birthday in great style. I'd been trying to convince myself that party, or no party, it really didn't matter all that much to me.
It does matter! Such a celebration only comes around once in a lifetime. It needs to be perfect.
*sigh*
I wish David Tutera had a show called, "My Fabulous Big Five-Oh!" I'd be calling him to my rescue right now.
Oh David! HELP! I need help making my birthday party dreams come true!
Becky Taylor
July 11, 2010
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
I'm a little nervous.
A couple years ago, I told him exactly what I wanted to do to usher in the big 5-Oh! I wanted a beach in Mexico with my kids and grandkids for a week (or more if possible), highlighted with a major party to celebrate the impending BEST years of my life!
Well, life happens while you're making other plans, right?
Little did I know that my daughter, Angel would be in her last week or so of pregnancy when the date arrives. So much for having my kids and grandkids in Mexico with me at that time.
It also throws a wrench in my plans because I'm not all too sure I want to be out of the country when my sixth grandchild arrives. I've been by both my daughter's sides when they delivered the first five grand babies and well, I'm just not convinced they could do it without me.
Throw in the fact that our finances have drastically changed since I first voiced my preference for my 50th birthday party and honey, we have ourselves a situation.
I don't know what to do, but I do know I'm going to be terribly disappointed if Friday August 13th arrives and passes without something major being done to recognize the date.
I'm not usually a very selfish kind of person, but this is different. This calls for serious intervention from an expert.
Where's David Tutera when you need him?
David Tutera is a famous party-planner and has a hit t.v. show, "My Fair Wedding". Every week on t.v., I admire him as he appears to brides in distress and re-plans their weddings a mere three weeks from the big day. I love how he makes dreams come true for all those "Queen for a day" wannabees... like me, only I'm not getting married. I'm just turning 50!
If I could design the perfect birthday celebration (without regard to questionable finances and the potential arrival of a new grand-child)it would begin with me opening the Friday the 13th "Wendy Williams" show in NYC. Friday's episodes are taped on Thursday afternoon so I could easily open her show, then fly to Mexico in time for my actual birthday.
My not currently pregnant daughter, Emily and her family would fly with me and Mr. Taylor, both to the Wendy Williams taping and on to Mexico.
Once in Mexico, we'd check into an exclusive resort. I found a great one for about $600 USD/day. If memory serves me correctly, that price includes room/food/daily massages, etc. for at least eight people so that's only about $75 USD/day.
There, we would enjoy at least a week of endless sunshine, zip-lining, dinner at "Rhythms of the Night", horsback riding, food and whatever other festivities strike my fifty year old fancy.
Does that sound like a fantastic plan or what?
This all started yesterday when I caught myself feeling a little down about the possibility of not celebrating my 50th birthday in great style. I'd been trying to convince myself that party, or no party, it really didn't matter all that much to me.
It does matter! Such a celebration only comes around once in a lifetime. It needs to be perfect.
*sigh*
I wish David Tutera had a show called, "My Fabulous Big Five-Oh!" I'd be calling him to my rescue right now.
Oh David! HELP! I need help making my birthday party dreams come true!
Becky Taylor
July 11, 2010
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Monday, June 21, 2010
Grandma Buys A Bathing Suit .. (The Sequel)
After buying the new bathing suit with more "coverage" a few weeks ago and discovering I felt pretty much miserable (and old) in it, I bit the bullet and went bathing suit shopping again last Thursday.
I was feeling a bit brave when I dug out my old favorite two piece and tried it on last week. You know what? It really doesn't look that bad. I officially brought it out of retirement and started wearing it to the pool.
Feeling secure in my old two piece once again, I returned to the store on Friday and bought not one, but three new two piece suits. The first one, a bit more revealing than my old favorite, and the other two a lot more revealing than any I've worn in recent history.
Do I look like a nineteen year old in any of the suits? Of course not!
Do I really care? Nope!
I don't go to the pool to compete with anyone, neither am I trying to attract the attention of any members of the opposite sex. I don't crave positive re-enforcement or wolf whistles (except from my husband, of course) I just want to be comfortable and cool. It's that simple.
I feel good about my decision. Better yet, I feel downright liberated!
I will wear my new bathing suits with my head held high. Anyone who doesn't like it ... feel free to look the other way!
Becky J. Taylor
June 21, 2010
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
I was feeling a bit brave when I dug out my old favorite two piece and tried it on last week. You know what? It really doesn't look that bad. I officially brought it out of retirement and started wearing it to the pool.
Feeling secure in my old two piece once again, I returned to the store on Friday and bought not one, but three new two piece suits. The first one, a bit more revealing than my old favorite, and the other two a lot more revealing than any I've worn in recent history.
Do I look like a nineteen year old in any of the suits? Of course not!
Do I really care? Nope!
I don't go to the pool to compete with anyone, neither am I trying to attract the attention of any members of the opposite sex. I don't crave positive re-enforcement or wolf whistles (except from my husband, of course) I just want to be comfortable and cool. It's that simple.
I feel good about my decision. Better yet, I feel downright liberated!
I will wear my new bathing suits with my head held high. Anyone who doesn't like it ... feel free to look the other way!
Becky J. Taylor
June 21, 2010
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Liar! Liar!
... well, my pants are definitely not on fire!
When I went to the Emergency Room last week, they did not weigh me. Instead, they asked me how much I weighed.
And I told them the truth.
It happened again this morning. I was asked the same question at my follow up appointment with the spinal specialist.
Just like last week in the E.R., I did not lie.
I should also mention that when I got my drivers license renewed I reported my actual weight to them too.
(Do we not pay these people enough money to buy their own scales, or what?)
I realize I've done myself a great injustice here, especially having learned from my medical background that people almost always fudge the numbers on these sorts of things. I've not done any intensive research, but my guess would be that most report their weight to be at least ten pounds less than it really is.
Now,thanks to my "zero tolerance" honesty policy, the people at the hospital, the spinal specialist, and the license bureau all probably assume I weigh ten pounds more than I actually do.
What was I thinking?
As far as the Emergency Room is concerned, I was practically delirious with pain there so that's a fair explanation for spewing out an accurate number. On the other hand, I have absolutely no excuse for being so truthful with the license bureau and the doctor's office.
My regular doctor either makes more money, or is wiser than the others. He has a scale of his own so he doesn't rely on his patients to tell him how much they weigh. (He probably figured out that most people are liars long ago.)
It makes me feel slightly better to remember that the last time I weighed this much (as indicated by my regular doctor's scales)I was immediately told that I definitely didn't look "that heavy".
(I'm fairly certain the medical assistant who made that comment meant it as a compliment.)
A few moments later, I mentioned my weight to my doctor (since he didn't bring it up) and he assured me I was "fine".
Maybe that's why I felt so secure in reporting my real weight to all those other people.
I'm fine. My weight is fine. (Someone should write a book with that title!)
Obviously I was not totally traumatized by the experience. After all that, I still had a chili cheese dog for dinner this evening.
But one thing's for certain, no matter if I gain even more weight before I see the scale-free medical people again, I'm giving them the same number I gave them last time.
And if I manage to lose a few pounds, I am going to tell them I weigh ten less pounds than the actual number really is. I owe it to myself for being so honest with them all these years!
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
When I went to the Emergency Room last week, they did not weigh me. Instead, they asked me how much I weighed.
And I told them the truth.
It happened again this morning. I was asked the same question at my follow up appointment with the spinal specialist.
Just like last week in the E.R., I did not lie.
I should also mention that when I got my drivers license renewed I reported my actual weight to them too.
(Do we not pay these people enough money to buy their own scales, or what?)
I realize I've done myself a great injustice here, especially having learned from my medical background that people almost always fudge the numbers on these sorts of things. I've not done any intensive research, but my guess would be that most report their weight to be at least ten pounds less than it really is.
Now,thanks to my "zero tolerance" honesty policy, the people at the hospital, the spinal specialist, and the license bureau all probably assume I weigh ten pounds more than I actually do.
What was I thinking?
As far as the Emergency Room is concerned, I was practically delirious with pain there so that's a fair explanation for spewing out an accurate number. On the other hand, I have absolutely no excuse for being so truthful with the license bureau and the doctor's office.
My regular doctor either makes more money, or is wiser than the others. He has a scale of his own so he doesn't rely on his patients to tell him how much they weigh. (He probably figured out that most people are liars long ago.)
It makes me feel slightly better to remember that the last time I weighed this much (as indicated by my regular doctor's scales)I was immediately told that I definitely didn't look "that heavy".
(I'm fairly certain the medical assistant who made that comment meant it as a compliment.)
A few moments later, I mentioned my weight to my doctor (since he didn't bring it up) and he assured me I was "fine".
Maybe that's why I felt so secure in reporting my real weight to all those other people.
I'm fine. My weight is fine. (Someone should write a book with that title!)
Obviously I was not totally traumatized by the experience. After all that, I still had a chili cheese dog for dinner this evening.
But one thing's for certain, no matter if I gain even more weight before I see the scale-free medical people again, I'm giving them the same number I gave them last time.
And if I manage to lose a few pounds, I am going to tell them I weigh ten less pounds than the actual number really is. I owe it to myself for being so honest with them all these years!
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Time Out!
I swear, I had every intention of blogging on May 13th, which was the beginning of the three month countdown to my fiftieth birthday.
But I got busy and forgot to do it. Maybe that had something to do with me getting older. Who knows? Or for that matter, who cares? The truth is, I'm finding myself blaming a lot more on my age these last few months.
I started "Pushing Fifty" (both the blog and the emotional ordeal) a couple years ago. In the beginning,the blog was intended to be an entirely light-hearted account of my journey to the big Five-Oh!
I'm not one of those women who has ever worried about getting older. "I am what I am" has always been my motto.
"Love me or leave me"
"Age is just a number."
All the usual cliches have applied.
That was then, this is now! The closer I get to August 13, 2010, the more impact the fact the "number" of my next "age" is going to be FIFTY, is having on me.
This use to be much easier to ignore. Call me the Queen of Denial. My body, mind, and spirit made a pact that as long as "we" agreed I was not going to let my birthday have any adverse affects on me, the date would only serve as an excuse to throw caution to the wind, run off to Mexico and have a huge, week long celebration! Friday, August Thirteenth, 2010 aka my fiftieth birthday would be a day worthy of great acknowledgment. No more, no less.
Then, my body decided to rebel. It started packing on pounds, entirely of it's own accord. No permission granted (no permission asked, for that matter)
My face suddenly started catching up on all the wrinkles it had refused to take on in the past. WHAM! One night the wrinkle fairy crept into my room and slapped me with the wrinkle stick ... twice, at least!
It has apparently become the goal of my physical self to LOOK fifty by the time my birthday rolls around.
Never in the history of ME have I ever looked my age!
I would have killed to look my age back when I was a teenager. I felt that way well into my twenties. I didn't like being mistaken for a youngster then.
By the time I hit my thirties and forties, I began to enjoy looking younger than my age. I accepted that it was a blessing, not a curse, to be mistaken for a younger woman than I truly was.
And now? Well now I am really missing that about me.
I look in the mirror, or at recent photographs of myself and wonder "Who is that older woman?"
I am calling a "time out" on this whole pushing fifty thing. I need a break, a chance to regroup and come up with a new strategy. Mexico, or some exotic getaway, is definitely still in the plan, but the rest of this stuff ... not so much!
I need to catch my breath! (and lose twenty pounds)
I need a face lift! (like ... yesterday!)
I need lots of other things, including some heavy meds and possibly a private investigator to search for loopholes in my birth certificate.
I don't want to be fifty, but even more than that I don't want to look or feel my age!
May 18, 2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
But I got busy and forgot to do it. Maybe that had something to do with me getting older. Who knows? Or for that matter, who cares? The truth is, I'm finding myself blaming a lot more on my age these last few months.
I started "Pushing Fifty" (both the blog and the emotional ordeal) a couple years ago. In the beginning,the blog was intended to be an entirely light-hearted account of my journey to the big Five-Oh!
I'm not one of those women who has ever worried about getting older. "I am what I am" has always been my motto.
"Love me or leave me"
"Age is just a number."
All the usual cliches have applied.
That was then, this is now! The closer I get to August 13, 2010, the more impact the fact the "number" of my next "age" is going to be FIFTY, is having on me.
This use to be much easier to ignore. Call me the Queen of Denial. My body, mind, and spirit made a pact that as long as "we" agreed I was not going to let my birthday have any adverse affects on me, the date would only serve as an excuse to throw caution to the wind, run off to Mexico and have a huge, week long celebration! Friday, August Thirteenth, 2010 aka my fiftieth birthday would be a day worthy of great acknowledgment. No more, no less.
Then, my body decided to rebel. It started packing on pounds, entirely of it's own accord. No permission granted (no permission asked, for that matter)
My face suddenly started catching up on all the wrinkles it had refused to take on in the past. WHAM! One night the wrinkle fairy crept into my room and slapped me with the wrinkle stick ... twice, at least!
It has apparently become the goal of my physical self to LOOK fifty by the time my birthday rolls around.
Never in the history of ME have I ever looked my age!
I would have killed to look my age back when I was a teenager. I felt that way well into my twenties. I didn't like being mistaken for a youngster then.
By the time I hit my thirties and forties, I began to enjoy looking younger than my age. I accepted that it was a blessing, not a curse, to be mistaken for a younger woman than I truly was.
And now? Well now I am really missing that about me.
I look in the mirror, or at recent photographs of myself and wonder "Who is that older woman?"
I am calling a "time out" on this whole pushing fifty thing. I need a break, a chance to regroup and come up with a new strategy. Mexico, or some exotic getaway, is definitely still in the plan, but the rest of this stuff ... not so much!
I need to catch my breath! (and lose twenty pounds)
I need a face lift! (like ... yesterday!)
I need lots of other things, including some heavy meds and possibly a private investigator to search for loopholes in my birth certificate.
I don't want to be fifty, but even more than that I don't want to look or feel my age!
May 18, 2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Me, Myself, and Becky Taylor
Today started out in a rather unusual way.
Admittedly, the way life's been behaving lately, it's gotten difficult to distinguish between usual and unusual.
But this morning was "unusual" in a happily amusing sort of way. I got a text from my daughter Angel in Ohio almost as soon as I woke up. She said my four year old grandson, Jayden had called to her from the living room, saying "Mamaw Becky" was on t.v. Angel checked the screen and saw there was a Sylvan Learning Center ad airing which featured a woman whose name was displayed in the lower corner of the screen.
The name was "Becky Taylor"
How odd! Jayden thought his Mamaw Becky was on t.v. and the woman he'd mistaken to be me just happened to have the same name.
Of course, Jayden is only four years old and can't read yet. That would seem to eliminate the possibility he'd simply recognized the lady's name.
I thought about it and recalled seeing the same ad several months ago. I wouldn't have remembered it except for the fact that I'd noticed Becky Taylor and I shared the same name.
End of story, right?
After giving it more thought, I considered the possibility that the other Becky Taylor and I might also share similar coloring, etc, therefore making it possible that Jayden had the two of us confused as one and the same.
The name thing? Well, that part was surely a very funny coincidence!
If you've followed me very long at all, you'll know I can't let these things rest that easily. I had to investigate.
A quick "google" search revealed a photo of the other Becky, lending evidence to my theory that our similar hair and skin color had confused my grandson.
My attempts to find the Sylvan commercial online were not quite as successful. That came as a real disappointment because I really needed to figure out if the name "Becky Taylor" had been spoken at any time during the ad.
My curiosity was beginning to get the best of me, so I did what came most naturally.
I looked up the other Becky Taylor on facebook (yes, I found her there) and sent her a message explaining the situation to her.
Becky Taylor seemed to get as much of a kick out of the story as I, and verified for me that her name is not mentioned verbally in the ad at all. The only reference to "Becky Taylor" is the one printed on the screen.
Now, let's take a "logical" look at the facts, shall we?
What are the chances of there being more than one Becky Taylor in the United States?
"Becky" is a very common name, and so is "Taylor" ... so do the math. There are hundreds, if not thousands of us. Nothing remarkable to report on that aspect of the story.
The likelihood of any two of those Becky Taylors bearing similar physical traits?
Well, America is the proverbial "melting pot" of the world, so again, nah! No big surprise there either.
The possibility of a four year old boy living in southern Ohio, seeing someone on a t.v. commercial and mistaking her for his "Mamaw Becky" who lives in Georgia?
Still no big shock factor there. (YAWN)
BUT, a four year old boy in southern Ohio spotting a woman on t.v. whom he believes to be his "Mamaw Becky" and it turns out the woman on t.v. and his Mamaw Becky actually share the same name?
That's a bit more difficult to explain away.
Becky Taylor (of Sylvan Learning Centers fame) thinks Jayden recognized the name, and in conjunction with the other similarities, came to the conclusion that he was seeing his "Mamaw Becky" on television.
My daughter was hesitant to accept that possibility, until I reminded her that Jayden had likely seen my name written on the Mothers Day card she'd recently mailed to me. After a short period of convincing argument on my end, Angel finally agreed (or at least decided to humor me) to consider that possibility.
Long story short ...
It is a small world after all.
Reality is truly stranger than fiction.
My four year old grandson is most likely a genius (just like my other four grandchildren happen to be)
...and I have a new friend. Her name is Becky Taylor, just like me!
5/11/2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Admittedly, the way life's been behaving lately, it's gotten difficult to distinguish between usual and unusual.
But this morning was "unusual" in a happily amusing sort of way. I got a text from my daughter Angel in Ohio almost as soon as I woke up. She said my four year old grandson, Jayden had called to her from the living room, saying "Mamaw Becky" was on t.v. Angel checked the screen and saw there was a Sylvan Learning Center ad airing which featured a woman whose name was displayed in the lower corner of the screen.
The name was "Becky Taylor"
How odd! Jayden thought his Mamaw Becky was on t.v. and the woman he'd mistaken to be me just happened to have the same name.
Of course, Jayden is only four years old and can't read yet. That would seem to eliminate the possibility he'd simply recognized the lady's name.
I thought about it and recalled seeing the same ad several months ago. I wouldn't have remembered it except for the fact that I'd noticed Becky Taylor and I shared the same name.
End of story, right?
After giving it more thought, I considered the possibility that the other Becky Taylor and I might also share similar coloring, etc, therefore making it possible that Jayden had the two of us confused as one and the same.
The name thing? Well, that part was surely a very funny coincidence!
If you've followed me very long at all, you'll know I can't let these things rest that easily. I had to investigate.
A quick "google" search revealed a photo of the other Becky, lending evidence to my theory that our similar hair and skin color had confused my grandson.
My attempts to find the Sylvan commercial online were not quite as successful. That came as a real disappointment because I really needed to figure out if the name "Becky Taylor" had been spoken at any time during the ad.
My curiosity was beginning to get the best of me, so I did what came most naturally.
I looked up the other Becky Taylor on facebook (yes, I found her there) and sent her a message explaining the situation to her.
Becky Taylor seemed to get as much of a kick out of the story as I, and verified for me that her name is not mentioned verbally in the ad at all. The only reference to "Becky Taylor" is the one printed on the screen.
Now, let's take a "logical" look at the facts, shall we?
What are the chances of there being more than one Becky Taylor in the United States?
"Becky" is a very common name, and so is "Taylor" ... so do the math. There are hundreds, if not thousands of us. Nothing remarkable to report on that aspect of the story.
The likelihood of any two of those Becky Taylors bearing similar physical traits?
Well, America is the proverbial "melting pot" of the world, so again, nah! No big surprise there either.
The possibility of a four year old boy living in southern Ohio, seeing someone on a t.v. commercial and mistaking her for his "Mamaw Becky" who lives in Georgia?
Still no big shock factor there. (YAWN)
BUT, a four year old boy in southern Ohio spotting a woman on t.v. whom he believes to be his "Mamaw Becky" and it turns out the woman on t.v. and his Mamaw Becky actually share the same name?
That's a bit more difficult to explain away.
Becky Taylor (of Sylvan Learning Centers fame) thinks Jayden recognized the name, and in conjunction with the other similarities, came to the conclusion that he was seeing his "Mamaw Becky" on television.
My daughter was hesitant to accept that possibility, until I reminded her that Jayden had likely seen my name written on the Mothers Day card she'd recently mailed to me. After a short period of convincing argument on my end, Angel finally agreed (or at least decided to humor me) to consider that possibility.
Long story short ...
It is a small world after all.
Reality is truly stranger than fiction.
My four year old grandson is most likely a genius (just like my other four grandchildren happen to be)
...and I have a new friend. Her name is Becky Taylor, just like me!
5/11/2010
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Friday, March 19, 2010
Suddenly EVERYONE is a Life Coach!
Maybe it's because I am an actual hardworking Certified Life Coach that I notice, but it seems to me everyone and his/her brother is calling their self a "Life Coach" these days. The moniker is smeared on posters, books, and in the credits that roll after t.v. talk shows.
It's tagged onto people's lists of titles like it's an after thought.
It makes me crazy!
I saw an ad for a new t.v. show featuring a "Life Coach" the other day. I couldn't tell for sure, but it appeared to be announcing some new sitcom. At best, it looked like the whole theme of the show is to poke fun at coaching. The ad showed a woman who apparently does nothing but smile, repeat cliche's and tell people what she thinks they should do ... all very sweetly, of course.
I'm sure it will make every person on the planet want to run right out and hire a bubble headed coach who's so totally detached from reality they think everything can be fixed with a pat answer and a motherly word of advice.
So your husband just left you for a younger woman? "Oh honey! Don't worry! There's plenty of fish in the sea. Here's a cookie and a glass of milk. That should make everything better! Now get out there and have a nice day!."
Next client!
Even worse, I noticed one popular t.v. personality, known best for their arrogant attitude and barking orders (and insults) at the people they work with has added "Life Coach" to their public resume!
What bothers me is that people are having a difficult enough time figuring out what a Life Coach is, without the"help" of all this mis-leading information.
It's giving real Life Coaches a bad name!
The truth is, just about anyone can call their self a Life Coach and get by with it but a real Life Coach isn't going to spit meaningless cliche's at you or tell you everything is going to be o.k. when they know darn well it isn't. They won't scream at you or scold you for any reason. They won't put you or your situation in a box with a million others. They'll be interested in helping you find a way to make your life what you want it to be.
"Life" is about growing personally. It's about discovering who you truly are and what you were put on this earth to do. Life is to be lived, not just tolerated, sugar coated, or ignored.
If you want to be screamed at, lied to, mis-informed or told what I think you should do ... Don't hire me as your coach, you'll be sorely disappointed!
Am I an optimistic person who will try to help you find the silver lining around your cloud?
Certainly!
But I also know that behind some clouds is a thunderstorm and all the happy thoughts in the world will not keep you from getting soaked! Sometimes the best you can hope for is to get through a situation intact. Sure, there's likely a lesson to be learned in every process, but it's not always a pleasant experience. I'll help you learn coping mechanisms, but I won't say things to make you feel guilty for being human and having a bad day once in a while.
I'd like to think any Life Coach worth their pay would do the same for their clients.
Life Coaching is a serious business. I really wish people would stop throwing the term around like it doesn't take any talent, skills or training to become a "Life Coach".
There! I said it! I feel better now and I shall put my soapbox away for the day.
Thank you for listening. My name is Becky Taylor and I am a Life Coach!
March 19, 2010
Bold New Day! Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
It's tagged onto people's lists of titles like it's an after thought.
It makes me crazy!
I saw an ad for a new t.v. show featuring a "Life Coach" the other day. I couldn't tell for sure, but it appeared to be announcing some new sitcom. At best, it looked like the whole theme of the show is to poke fun at coaching. The ad showed a woman who apparently does nothing but smile, repeat cliche's and tell people what she thinks they should do ... all very sweetly, of course.
I'm sure it will make every person on the planet want to run right out and hire a bubble headed coach who's so totally detached from reality they think everything can be fixed with a pat answer and a motherly word of advice.
So your husband just left you for a younger woman? "Oh honey! Don't worry! There's plenty of fish in the sea. Here's a cookie and a glass of milk. That should make everything better! Now get out there and have a nice day!."
Next client!
Even worse, I noticed one popular t.v. personality, known best for their arrogant attitude and barking orders (and insults) at the people they work with has added "Life Coach" to their public resume!
What bothers me is that people are having a difficult enough time figuring out what a Life Coach is, without the"help" of all this mis-leading information.
It's giving real Life Coaches a bad name!
The truth is, just about anyone can call their self a Life Coach and get by with it but a real Life Coach isn't going to spit meaningless cliche's at you or tell you everything is going to be o.k. when they know darn well it isn't. They won't scream at you or scold you for any reason. They won't put you or your situation in a box with a million others. They'll be interested in helping you find a way to make your life what you want it to be.
"Life" is about growing personally. It's about discovering who you truly are and what you were put on this earth to do. Life is to be lived, not just tolerated, sugar coated, or ignored.
If you want to be screamed at, lied to, mis-informed or told what I think you should do ... Don't hire me as your coach, you'll be sorely disappointed!
Am I an optimistic person who will try to help you find the silver lining around your cloud?
Certainly!
But I also know that behind some clouds is a thunderstorm and all the happy thoughts in the world will not keep you from getting soaked! Sometimes the best you can hope for is to get through a situation intact. Sure, there's likely a lesson to be learned in every process, but it's not always a pleasant experience. I'll help you learn coping mechanisms, but I won't say things to make you feel guilty for being human and having a bad day once in a while.
I'd like to think any Life Coach worth their pay would do the same for their clients.
Life Coaching is a serious business. I really wish people would stop throwing the term around like it doesn't take any talent, skills or training to become a "Life Coach".
There! I said it! I feel better now and I shall put my soapbox away for the day.
Thank you for listening. My name is Becky Taylor and I am a Life Coach!
March 19, 2010
Bold New Day! Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Sauerkraut,Sausage and Dumplings! Oh My!
Sauerkraut, with sausage and dumplings was a staple at every evening meal at our house while I was growing up. Not just any sauerkraut, but kraut made according to my Dad's family recipe brought over from Germany in the 1800's.
My sister and I have often joked that in order to survive in our family, the babies had to be born with lead stomachs. We had to watch Dad pretty closely whenever we brought home a new arrival, because the first chance he got, he would slip them a taste of "kraut juice".
I kid you not! We'd turn around and he'd have a teaspoon up to their mouths and they'd be smacking their lips in delight! We could only assume our children liked the taste because we'd both eaten plenty of kraut throughout our pregnancies.
Of the seven grandchildren in the family, there's only one I know of who doesn't love sauerkraut, and that's my youngest son. What can I say? I suppose sooner or later a finicky one would have to come along.
I never understood why most of my friends turned their noses up at sauerkraut until I figured out that not everyone was privileged to have the same kind we had. Our kraut was totally different than the store bought stuff. Ours started out as cabbage in our own garden. When the time (which was determined by the phase of the moon) came, we'd pick the huge heads of cabbage and gather the kraut cutter, mason jars, canning salt and the garden hose together on the back porch.
Dad would methodically slide each head of cabbage back and forth over the blades of the kraut cutter, producing mounds of shavings, which my sister, mother and I would scoop up and put into mason jars one after another.
Picture an 10' x 20' concrete porch covered with mason jars full of shredded cabbage! We had to have enough kraut to get us through the whole year, and for our family, that was a LOT!
After the cabbage was in the jars, we'd put a handful of canning salt on top. Then came the garden hose, (which was my favorite part of the process). The jars would be topped off with water right out of the hose, and lids would be applied loosely. Dad explained that if the lids were tightened right away, the jars would explode from the gases that developed as the cabbage turned to kraut.
We'd carry the finished jars into the basement where they'd sit for several weeks (also determined by the phase of the moon) Only then could we tighten the lids.
Once the allotted time had passed, the kraut would be declared "ready"by the kraut-master himself, and the feasting would begin!
I remember so well, Dad leaning over the stove with smoked sausage sizzling in an iron skillet and sauerkraut simmering in a separate pan. After frying, he would mix the sausage into the kraut.
Next came dumplings, made simply from eggs and flour. He'd form a stiff mixture from the two ingredients and pinch off pieces the size of a quarter, dropping them one by one into the bubbling pot of kraut and sausage.
After the dumplings were added, he'd take the skillet with the meat drippings still in it and add flour to make "gravy". The gravy was apparently a very important step, as Dad explained to me more than once, that in order to be done correctly, it had to be poured over the top and allowed to seep slowly down through the rest of the mixture.
Ahhh! The aroma flooded the house and made our mouths water! There's nothing much better than a meal of sauerkraut, sausage and dumplings with a side of mashed potatoes (also home grown and made) and a tall glass of sweet tea!
When I visited my family in Ohio over New Years, I managed to swipe a couple quart jars of kraut from my sister. Today, I finally decided to prepare the dish I grew up on. This is a real treat! Since neither my husband or son care for sauerkraut sausage and dumplings, I get the whole pan to myself!
I'm not sure I did everything exactly right. I couldn't resist the urge to stir the gravy into the rest of the mix before it had time to "seep" in ... and my dumplings came out a bit more spongy than I would have liked. Over all, I think I did ok though. I know Dad would be proud to know I at least made the effort.
Tonight, I will feast on the wondrous delight as I reminisce the days of making kraut on the back porch with my parents and sister on those hot summer evenings forty years ago.
Oooooo! It's going to be wunderbar!
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
http://www.boldnewday.com
My sister and I have often joked that in order to survive in our family, the babies had to be born with lead stomachs. We had to watch Dad pretty closely whenever we brought home a new arrival, because the first chance he got, he would slip them a taste of "kraut juice".
I kid you not! We'd turn around and he'd have a teaspoon up to their mouths and they'd be smacking their lips in delight! We could only assume our children liked the taste because we'd both eaten plenty of kraut throughout our pregnancies.
Of the seven grandchildren in the family, there's only one I know of who doesn't love sauerkraut, and that's my youngest son. What can I say? I suppose sooner or later a finicky one would have to come along.
I never understood why most of my friends turned their noses up at sauerkraut until I figured out that not everyone was privileged to have the same kind we had. Our kraut was totally different than the store bought stuff. Ours started out as cabbage in our own garden. When the time (which was determined by the phase of the moon) came, we'd pick the huge heads of cabbage and gather the kraut cutter, mason jars, canning salt and the garden hose together on the back porch.
Dad would methodically slide each head of cabbage back and forth over the blades of the kraut cutter, producing mounds of shavings, which my sister, mother and I would scoop up and put into mason jars one after another.
Picture an 10' x 20' concrete porch covered with mason jars full of shredded cabbage! We had to have enough kraut to get us through the whole year, and for our family, that was a LOT!
After the cabbage was in the jars, we'd put a handful of canning salt on top. Then came the garden hose, (which was my favorite part of the process). The jars would be topped off with water right out of the hose, and lids would be applied loosely. Dad explained that if the lids were tightened right away, the jars would explode from the gases that developed as the cabbage turned to kraut.
We'd carry the finished jars into the basement where they'd sit for several weeks (also determined by the phase of the moon) Only then could we tighten the lids.
Once the allotted time had passed, the kraut would be declared "ready"by the kraut-master himself, and the feasting would begin!
I remember so well, Dad leaning over the stove with smoked sausage sizzling in an iron skillet and sauerkraut simmering in a separate pan. After frying, he would mix the sausage into the kraut.
Next came dumplings, made simply from eggs and flour. He'd form a stiff mixture from the two ingredients and pinch off pieces the size of a quarter, dropping them one by one into the bubbling pot of kraut and sausage.
After the dumplings were added, he'd take the skillet with the meat drippings still in it and add flour to make "gravy". The gravy was apparently a very important step, as Dad explained to me more than once, that in order to be done correctly, it had to be poured over the top and allowed to seep slowly down through the rest of the mixture.
Ahhh! The aroma flooded the house and made our mouths water! There's nothing much better than a meal of sauerkraut, sausage and dumplings with a side of mashed potatoes (also home grown and made) and a tall glass of sweet tea!When I visited my family in Ohio over New Years, I managed to swipe a couple quart jars of kraut from my sister. Today, I finally decided to prepare the dish I grew up on. This is a real treat! Since neither my husband or son care for sauerkraut sausage and dumplings, I get the whole pan to myself!
I'm not sure I did everything exactly right. I couldn't resist the urge to stir the gravy into the rest of the mix before it had time to "seep" in ... and my dumplings came out a bit more spongy than I would have liked. Over all, I think I did ok though. I know Dad would be proud to know I at least made the effort.
Tonight, I will feast on the wondrous delight as I reminisce the days of making kraut on the back porch with my parents and sister on those hot summer evenings forty years ago.
Oooooo! It's going to be wunderbar!
Becky Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
http://www.boldnewday.com
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Hips Don't Lie!
In my quest to be in fantastic physical condition by the time I turn fifty, I am experimenting with various forms of exercise. Fortunately, our new gym membership includes many options, one of which is Zumba dancing.
Having promised myself I'd try almost anything once (at least in regard to physical fitness) I attended my first Zumba dance class this evening.
Well!
I'm not sure why I get myself into such things. I can't dance and never could, even before I experienced nerve damage in my left leg which left me with a slight foot drop on that side.
And we won't even talk about my nearly inflexible lower back.
(Did I mention that being able to move one's hips and legs are vital to the art of dancing Zumba style?)
Yet, somehow I thought I just might turn out to be quite marvelous at it, so I went.
Thank God, no one in the class seemed to be taking themselves all that seriously. Frankly, I probably got as much good from the class aerobically speaking, from laughing at the middle aged woman in the mirror who kept stumbling over her own feet and seemed unable to swivel her hips in the least, as I got from the movements themselves.
(That middle aged woman was me, of course)
Everyone else laughed a lot too, and I promised myself they were laughing at their own reflections in the mirror and not mine.
That would have left my feelings hurting a lot worse than my lower back and hips were at the end of the class.
Overall, I don't think I did too badly. Since there's very little likelihood I'll ever be invited to appear on "Dancing With the Stars", I figure the act of moving in general was more important than trying to get the moves exactly right.
And, I kept right up with the others during the warming up and cooling down exercises. Surely I get points for that!
The instructor said I did a terrific job. I'm almost certain she never says that to any of the other first time Zumba dancing grandmas. Neither was her evaluation likely swayed whatsoever by fact that she was so high on cold medication, she forgot a few of the moves herself.
Whether I ever become accomplished at Zumba dancing or not remains to be determined. As the song says, "hips don't lie" and mine were screaming "we're way too old to move this way" by the time I left the gym.
Even still, I came out feeling rejuvenated and fairly proud of myself for at least trying. So yeah, I'll be going back later this week for another attempt.
What are the possibilities? I guess I could break a hip while trying to pivot on one leg ... or I could end up being an awesome Zumba dancer just like the ladies in the attached video.
Either way, it would make a great story to tell the grandchildren.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2PN_xCstcQ
(Video is from similar a Zumba class in Hickory NC. We danced to the same song last night ... only maybe not quite as effectively. lol)
Becky J. Taylor
Dec. 1, 2009
http://www.boldnewday.com
Having promised myself I'd try almost anything once (at least in regard to physical fitness) I attended my first Zumba dance class this evening.
Well!
I'm not sure why I get myself into such things. I can't dance and never could, even before I experienced nerve damage in my left leg which left me with a slight foot drop on that side.
And we won't even talk about my nearly inflexible lower back.
(Did I mention that being able to move one's hips and legs are vital to the art of dancing Zumba style?)
Yet, somehow I thought I just might turn out to be quite marvelous at it, so I went.
Thank God, no one in the class seemed to be taking themselves all that seriously. Frankly, I probably got as much good from the class aerobically speaking, from laughing at the middle aged woman in the mirror who kept stumbling over her own feet and seemed unable to swivel her hips in the least, as I got from the movements themselves.
(That middle aged woman was me, of course)
Everyone else laughed a lot too, and I promised myself they were laughing at their own reflections in the mirror and not mine.
That would have left my feelings hurting a lot worse than my lower back and hips were at the end of the class.
Overall, I don't think I did too badly. Since there's very little likelihood I'll ever be invited to appear on "Dancing With the Stars", I figure the act of moving in general was more important than trying to get the moves exactly right.
And, I kept right up with the others during the warming up and cooling down exercises. Surely I get points for that!
The instructor said I did a terrific job. I'm almost certain she never says that to any of the other first time Zumba dancing grandmas. Neither was her evaluation likely swayed whatsoever by fact that she was so high on cold medication, she forgot a few of the moves herself.
Whether I ever become accomplished at Zumba dancing or not remains to be determined. As the song says, "hips don't lie" and mine were screaming "we're way too old to move this way" by the time I left the gym.
Even still, I came out feeling rejuvenated and fairly proud of myself for at least trying. So yeah, I'll be going back later this week for another attempt.
What are the possibilities? I guess I could break a hip while trying to pivot on one leg ... or I could end up being an awesome Zumba dancer just like the ladies in the attached video.
Either way, it would make a great story to tell the grandchildren.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2PN_xCstcQ
(Video is from similar a Zumba class in Hickory NC. We danced to the same song last night ... only maybe not quite as effectively. lol)
Becky J. Taylor
Dec. 1, 2009
http://www.boldnewday.com
Friday, January 16, 2009
Casual Friday
I woke up this morning with a skull crushing headache. The feeling might be compared to that of a freight train sitting on top of my head with it's whistle stuck at full blast. It hurts!
I had every intention of going back to bed after the boy left for school, but of course I rarely follow through with that sort of plan. Instead, I ended up taking some extra strength pain reliever and attempting to go about my business.
I did allow myself to forego any attempt to get out of my pajamas and into real clothes. Neither did I bother with any application of makeup or fixing of my hair. My business is run from the comfort of my home and since I am not seeing any face to face clients today, I figured "Why not?"
Around ten o'clock I started to feel a bit guilty about still being in my pjs and looking like a rumpled mess. Sure, I'd managed to get a few things accomplished despite my state of dis-array, but thoughts of unexpected visitors ringing my doorbell began to haunt me. Maybe my decision not to get dressed for the day wasn't such a good one after all.
Then I had a "second thought" about the matter!
By golly, it's FRIDAY! Is it not still a common practice of many businesses to observe "Casual Friday" where the employees are encouraged to show up at the office "dressed down" a bit?
So, it stands to reason that since my usual work day attire (if I don't have any face to face meetings) is jeans and a sweater, then my "Casual Friday" attire would be a step down from that.
And a step down from jeans and sweaters would naturally be ......
PAJAMAS and house slippers!
What a liberating moment that was for me!
I am proud to announce the premier of "Casual Fridays" here at the "offices" of "Bold New Day, LLC"/ "World Ventures"/ "Rovia Travel" / "Taylor Electric Service". In an attempt to boost the morale of our office CEO / Life Coach / Secretary / Housekeeper (all of which would be ME) The practice of changing out of one's pj's, applying makeup, brushing hair or any other similar task, on Fridays will be purely optional and done so only at MY discretion!
(Just be sure and call ahead if you're planning on stopping by, OK?)
I had every intention of going back to bed after the boy left for school, but of course I rarely follow through with that sort of plan. Instead, I ended up taking some extra strength pain reliever and attempting to go about my business.
I did allow myself to forego any attempt to get out of my pajamas and into real clothes. Neither did I bother with any application of makeup or fixing of my hair. My business is run from the comfort of my home and since I am not seeing any face to face clients today, I figured "Why not?"
Around ten o'clock I started to feel a bit guilty about still being in my pjs and looking like a rumpled mess. Sure, I'd managed to get a few things accomplished despite my state of dis-array, but thoughts of unexpected visitors ringing my doorbell began to haunt me. Maybe my decision not to get dressed for the day wasn't such a good one after all.
Then I had a "second thought" about the matter!
By golly, it's FRIDAY! Is it not still a common practice of many businesses to observe "Casual Friday" where the employees are encouraged to show up at the office "dressed down" a bit?
So, it stands to reason that since my usual work day attire (if I don't have any face to face meetings) is jeans and a sweater, then my "Casual Friday" attire would be a step down from that.
And a step down from jeans and sweaters would naturally be ......
PAJAMAS and house slippers!
What a liberating moment that was for me!
I am proud to announce the premier of "Casual Fridays" here at the "offices" of "Bold New Day, LLC"/ "World Ventures"/ "Rovia Travel" / "Taylor Electric Service". In an attempt to boost the morale of our office CEO / Life Coach / Secretary / Housekeeper (all of which would be ME) The practice of changing out of one's pj's, applying makeup, brushing hair or any other similar task, on Fridays will be purely optional and done so only at MY discretion!
(Just be sure and call ahead if you're planning on stopping by, OK?)
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
I'm Too Sexy For My Website
Last Saturday, after working on my business website for two months I made the final edit, held my breath, and hit "publish". Even so, I'm not quite ready to start advertising to the public yet. Before taking that step, I wanted some of my close friends and relatives to have the chance to look the website over and give me honest feedback on it. Once it's adequately honed, I will send out "warm letters" and emails, hang out the proverbial shingle, and officially start accepting clients.
Soon after my request went out, the feedback started pouring in. Up until this morning I'd heard from all but four of the people I asked for input.
I know that two of my friends don't have regular access to the internet, or at least not a lot of time to sit down and do any lengthy critiques. The third almost never gets online, and the fourth was my youngest daughter, Emily, who has her hands particularly full at the present time.
Emily called this morning, so I casually mentioned the website and asked if she'd had a chance to look it over. She said, "Yes" as a matter of fact she had, and she only found one thing she thought I might need to change.
I listened, wondering if it was going to be that the header can be difficult to read if one's laptop screen isn't angled just right. That had been the most common suggestion I'd received thus far. If not that, then maybe I needed to add my fee schedule to one of the pages, or put in a little more personal information ...
It was none of the above. Instead, Emily pointed out the possibility that the picture I've chosen for my "bio" page makes me look too "hot". She suggested I pick a photo that (in her words) " wouldn't be so likely to make potential clients feel intimidated".
Oh, really?
Wow.
(Need I mention that Emily happens to be my "favorite" offspring right now?)
The truth is, I planned to change my picture on that particular page anyway, not because I think I look so stinkin' sizzling in it, but because it has more of a snapshot appearance than I'd like. I'm not making an appointment with a professional photographer or anything like that. I just thought I'd try to get a different picture taken in front of a blank wall vs the decorated walls of our cruise ship cabin that grace the background of the current shot.
In the meantime, I must admit, Emily has given a whole new meaning to the phrase "constructive criticism". Not that all the other suggestions I received weren't important or helpful. To the contrary, they helped make my website look darn near perfect.
Or at least it will be, once I get that pesky "hot mama" picture off of there.
Thanks again, Emily! My ego grew three sizes today, all because of you.
Soon after my request went out, the feedback started pouring in. Up until this morning I'd heard from all but four of the people I asked for input.
I know that two of my friends don't have regular access to the internet, or at least not a lot of time to sit down and do any lengthy critiques. The third almost never gets online, and the fourth was my youngest daughter, Emily, who has her hands particularly full at the present time.
Emily called this morning, so I casually mentioned the website and asked if she'd had a chance to look it over. She said, "Yes" as a matter of fact she had, and she only found one thing she thought I might need to change.
I listened, wondering if it was going to be that the header can be difficult to read if one's laptop screen isn't angled just right. That had been the most common suggestion I'd received thus far. If not that, then maybe I needed to add my fee schedule to one of the pages, or put in a little more personal information ...
It was none of the above. Instead, Emily pointed out the possibility that the picture I've chosen for my "bio" page makes me look too "hot". She suggested I pick a photo that (in her words) " wouldn't be so likely to make potential clients feel intimidated".
Oh, really?
Wow.
(Need I mention that Emily happens to be my "favorite" offspring right now?)
The truth is, I planned to change my picture on that particular page anyway, not because I think I look so stinkin' sizzling in it, but because it has more of a snapshot appearance than I'd like. I'm not making an appointment with a professional photographer or anything like that. I just thought I'd try to get a different picture taken in front of a blank wall vs the decorated walls of our cruise ship cabin that grace the background of the current shot.
In the meantime, I must admit, Emily has given a whole new meaning to the phrase "constructive criticism". Not that all the other suggestions I received weren't important or helpful. To the contrary, they helped make my website look darn near perfect.
Or at least it will be, once I get that pesky "hot mama" picture off of there.
Thanks again, Emily! My ego grew three sizes today, all because of you.
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