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 women's issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women's issues. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Sunday, August 22, 2010
There's A New Kid In Town
Welcome to the world Baby James Daniel Jackson!
My newest grandson arrived Friday, August 20, 2010 at 3:11 p.m. He weighed in at a whopping 10 lbs. 10 oz!
Here are some pictures of the "little" guy:
I've been with my daughters when each of the other grandchildren were born, but I missed Baby James' birth. Common sense mandates that I wait and go to Ohio after Angel gets out of the hospital when I can truly be of assistance to her. I found myself regretting allowing "common sense" to rule though, when Angel developed complications and had to be given general anesthetic for a C-section.
I paced the driveway, phone in hand, waiting for updates from my niece who was there at the hospital in Ohio.
I shouted angrily when I heard how immature everyone was acting in the waiting room 500 miles away. (It happens every time)
I cried when I thought about how scared my daughter must have been when they told her they were going to need to put her under for the C-section.
Then I forgot about it all and smiled when the first photo of my new grandson finally arrived on my telephone screen.
He's perfect!
And I am in love ... again.
"Mamaw" Becky Taylor
August 22,2010
My newest grandson arrived Friday, August 20, 2010 at 3:11 p.m. He weighed in at a whopping 10 lbs. 10 oz!
Here are some pictures of the "little" guy:
I've been with my daughters when each of the other grandchildren were born, but I missed Baby James' birth. Common sense mandates that I wait and go to Ohio after Angel gets out of the hospital when I can truly be of assistance to her. I found myself regretting allowing "common sense" to rule though, when Angel developed complications and had to be given general anesthetic for a C-section.
I paced the driveway, phone in hand, waiting for updates from my niece who was there at the hospital in Ohio.
I shouted angrily when I heard how immature everyone was acting in the waiting room 500 miles away. (It happens every time)
I cried when I thought about how scared my daughter must have been when they told her they were going to need to put her under for the C-section.
Then I forgot about it all and smiled when the first photo of my new grandson finally arrived on my telephone screen.
He's perfect!
And I am in love ... again.
"Mamaw" Becky Taylor
August 22,2010
Isn't it Ironic?
My 50th birthday has come and gone.
"50th birthday?"
Funny you should ask, because if it hadn't been my own birthday I probably wouldn't have noticed either. You'd think after all the blatant hinting I've done (ie: my "Pushing Fifty" blog that's been running for the last two years) someone might have planned something to acknowledge the milestone.
But no.
I'd already made the necessary adjustments, knowing there'd be no family trip to Mexico. I'd made peace with the unfortunate timing of our lack of finances. I knew that neither David Tutera or Wendy Williams would be coming to my rescue. I was, however, naive enough to think there'd still be some kind of fun surprise awaiting me on Friday, August 13th.
There was indeed one very big surprise, that being the fact there was NO birthday celebration planned at all, much less a "50th" birthday celebration.
My husband (bless his heart) decided at the last minute to invite another couple to go to dinner with us but they weren't available. Late Friday afternoon he informed me that his "plans" had fallen through. Our friends couldn't go out with us after all, so he wanted to know if I'd like him to call another couple and invite them to meet us somewhere for dinner instead.
I was so stunned, I wondered if he were tricking me somehow. I know him too well though. He's not that good at pulling off such stunts.
I'm not ashamed to admit I freaked out when the reality set in.
Not only was I not having a fabulous 50th birthday bash, we weren't doing anything at all. NOT A THING!
I told him to forget dinner altogether, I wasn't hungry. He didn't understand why we couldn't go out to eat anyway "just because no one was available" to go with us.
Either I am a very poor communicator or he is a very poor listener because I thought I'd made myself very clear. It's almost embarrassing to talk about the anticlimactic ending to the day I'd been raving about for months.
In fairness, all was not lost as far as the basic "birthday" goes. I got several great phone calls that day from my family and a couple friends. My facebook page was over-run with birthday wishes. Walt also bought me a new "Flip" camera which I'd asked for. He gave it to me a day ahead of time. Silly me! I thought he was giving it to me early so I'd have it to take pictures at my party. You know ... the party that never happened!
No big dinner with all our friends. None of those hideous black balloons or "over the hill" jokes. No funny cards jaunting me about my age, and there are definitely no pictures to record the non-event.
It was just another birthday...only with less pomp and circumstance than I've been treated with on my other birthdays.
In retrospect, my life has become quite ironic in that way. The winds of fate have shifted and suddenly nothing goes as I expect anymore.
Whatever. It is what it is. Life goes on. (Insert any other appropriate cliche' here)
Happy Belated 50th Birthday to me!
"50th birthday?"
Funny you should ask, because if it hadn't been my own birthday I probably wouldn't have noticed either. You'd think after all the blatant hinting I've done (ie: my "Pushing Fifty" blog that's been running for the last two years) someone might have planned something to acknowledge the milestone.
But no.
I'd already made the necessary adjustments, knowing there'd be no family trip to Mexico. I'd made peace with the unfortunate timing of our lack of finances. I knew that neither David Tutera or Wendy Williams would be coming to my rescue. I was, however, naive enough to think there'd still be some kind of fun surprise awaiting me on Friday, August 13th.
There was indeed one very big surprise, that being the fact there was NO birthday celebration planned at all, much less a "50th" birthday celebration.
My husband (bless his heart) decided at the last minute to invite another couple to go to dinner with us but they weren't available. Late Friday afternoon he informed me that his "plans" had fallen through. Our friends couldn't go out with us after all, so he wanted to know if I'd like him to call another couple and invite them to meet us somewhere for dinner instead.
I was so stunned, I wondered if he were tricking me somehow. I know him too well though. He's not that good at pulling off such stunts.
I'm not ashamed to admit I freaked out when the reality set in.
Not only was I not having a fabulous 50th birthday bash, we weren't doing anything at all. NOT A THING!
I told him to forget dinner altogether, I wasn't hungry. He didn't understand why we couldn't go out to eat anyway "just because no one was available" to go with us.
Either I am a very poor communicator or he is a very poor listener because I thought I'd made myself very clear. It's almost embarrassing to talk about the anticlimactic ending to the day I'd been raving about for months.
In fairness, all was not lost as far as the basic "birthday" goes. I got several great phone calls that day from my family and a couple friends. My facebook page was over-run with birthday wishes. Walt also bought me a new "Flip" camera which I'd asked for. He gave it to me a day ahead of time. Silly me! I thought he was giving it to me early so I'd have it to take pictures at my party. You know ... the party that never happened!
No big dinner with all our friends. None of those hideous black balloons or "over the hill" jokes. No funny cards jaunting me about my age, and there are definitely no pictures to record the non-event.
It was just another birthday...only with less pomp and circumstance than I've been treated with on my other birthdays.
In retrospect, my life has become quite ironic in that way. The winds of fate have shifted and suddenly nothing goes as I expect anymore.
Whatever. It is what it is. Life goes on. (Insert any other appropriate cliche' here)
Happy Belated 50th Birthday to me!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Book It, Dan-O!
I don't usually talk about the book I'm attempting to write here on this "fun" blog, however, the lines between "fun" and "serious" have been very blurred lately. Even my newly purchased reading glasses have failed to remedy the situation. Hopefully that is only temporary and things will clear up soon. (Everything in life is temporary, right?)
I started writing a book a few months back. From what I've heard, books take a while to write so a "few months" isn't really all that long. The problem is, I haven't written a single word in weeks. My inspiration disappeared somewhere in the haze of issues the summer of 2010 has presented.
The central theme of my life right now is I NEED TO GET AWAY!
Being as ADD as I am, I can't hold on to a thought much less string several thoughts together long enough to finish a book (shoot! Make that a chapter) when I'm constantly being interrupted by the barking dog, the ding-ing washing machine, and legal notices from an annoying ex who, for reasons I may never understand, took it upon himself to put the last nail in my Summer 2010 coffin.
I need to go somewhere quiet and inspirational. Somewhere I can go to bed when I want, sleep as long as I want, and write as long as the thoughts keep flowing. Someplace the phone doesn't ring and no teenagers need a ride to the mall immediately!
I also need to go someplace fun and exciting ... or at least where I have the "fun and exciting" option available to me. I need an ocean breeze and the sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline. I need to go horseback riding,zip-lining, and yachting ... and spend hours on end just staring at the ocean if that's what I want!I need someone to cook my meals and make my bed for me while I'm busy doing all of the above.
I also need these two scenarios NOT to take place at the same time.
Ideally, I would throw my things in a bag and leave TOMORROW, then spend the next couple weeks working on my book, the deadline being my fiftieth birthday (which is FRIDAY AUGUST 13th in case I've not mentioned it lately)
In a perfect world, I'd put the finishing touches on my masterpiece on Thursday, August 12th, then smile as I close the computer and sit back and celebrate by watching the sun go down over Banderas bay.
Ahh! Lovely thought, isn't it?
On Friday August 13th, I'd wake up with the sunrise (or by noon - whatever!) and flip the "I finished my book AND turned fifty" party switch! The festivities would begin ... and not stop until I say so (because it's MY PARTY!)
And when I do decide the party's over, I'll move on to the next phase of my life. The "latter" years, which I am determined to make better than the first fifty.
It's a pretty tall order. You don't have to tell me, I already know.
Given my current frame of mind, I might just DO IT! Book the darn retreat and get on the plane. Miss the pesky court date (without bothering to tell anyone ... so they'll show up anyway *snicker*) and go away for a while.
Don't worry, I'll come back with my newly finished book ready to go to the publisher and a whole new attitude and outlook on life.
And that's something we would all benefit from right now, isn't it?
Becky Taylor
August 1, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.webs.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
I started writing a book a few months back. From what I've heard, books take a while to write so a "few months" isn't really all that long. The problem is, I haven't written a single word in weeks. My inspiration disappeared somewhere in the haze of issues the summer of 2010 has presented.
The central theme of my life right now is I NEED TO GET AWAY!
Being as ADD as I am, I can't hold on to a thought much less string several thoughts together long enough to finish a book (shoot! Make that a chapter) when I'm constantly being interrupted by the barking dog, the ding-ing washing machine, and legal notices from an annoying ex who, for reasons I may never understand, took it upon himself to put the last nail in my Summer 2010 coffin.
I need to go somewhere quiet and inspirational. Somewhere I can go to bed when I want, sleep as long as I want, and write as long as the thoughts keep flowing. Someplace the phone doesn't ring and no teenagers need a ride to the mall immediately!
I also need to go someplace fun and exciting ... or at least where I have the "fun and exciting" option available to me. I need an ocean breeze and the sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline. I need to go horseback riding,zip-lining, and yachting ... and spend hours on end just staring at the ocean if that's what I want!I need someone to cook my meals and make my bed for me while I'm busy doing all of the above.
I also need these two scenarios NOT to take place at the same time.
Ideally, I would throw my things in a bag and leave TOMORROW, then spend the next couple weeks working on my book, the deadline being my fiftieth birthday (which is FRIDAY AUGUST 13th in case I've not mentioned it lately)
In a perfect world, I'd put the finishing touches on my masterpiece on Thursday, August 12th, then smile as I close the computer and sit back and celebrate by watching the sun go down over Banderas bay.
Ahh! Lovely thought, isn't it?
On Friday August 13th, I'd wake up with the sunrise (or by noon - whatever!) and flip the "I finished my book AND turned fifty" party switch! The festivities would begin ... and not stop until I say so (because it's MY PARTY!)
And when I do decide the party's over, I'll move on to the next phase of my life. The "latter" years, which I am determined to make better than the first fifty.
It's a pretty tall order. You don't have to tell me, I already know.
Given my current frame of mind, I might just DO IT! Book the darn retreat and get on the plane. Miss the pesky court date (without bothering to tell anyone ... so they'll show up anyway *snicker*) and go away for a while.
Don't worry, I'll come back with my newly finished book ready to go to the publisher and a whole new attitude and outlook on life.
And that's something we would all benefit from right now, isn't it?
Becky Taylor
August 1, 2010
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.webs.com
http://www.boldnewday.com
Friday, July 30, 2010
Great! They've Killed the Elves too!
This blog isn't turning out quite like I'd pictured. As a matter of fact, the end product doesn't resemble my vision in the least.
When I wrote the last post, I reported the recent burning of my very important bridge to my "happy place". I also mentioned that I was clinging to the slightest possibility of little elves sneaking in and reconstructing it for me as a birthday surprise.
Yesterday I discovered the elves had been assassinated as well! I found their pitiful little carcasses scattered all over the place ... innocent victims of a malicious ex (or more likely his current wife.) Ugh!
No, make that double Ugh!
When is this going to end?
Why does it suddenly seem that life is out to get me?
Honestly, I started this blog with every intention of having fun with it ... lots of fun! Never did I intend it to turn into a whiny melodrama!
I'm a nice person. I always try to do what is right. I firmly (or at least use to) believe that one reaps what one sows.
Sow sweetness, reap cotton candy!
Sow nastiness, reap raw sewage!
Obviously the lines have been criss-crossed somewhere along the way because this definitely isn't cotton candy I'm standing in up to my armpits right now.
In summery: The ex (and his wife) have decided to appeal the court's decision to increase child support for the boy. This, despite the fact I am sitting on thousands of dollars of unpaid medical bills which the ex (and his wife) have refused to help pay.
This, despite the fact my income has steadily declined to almost nothing over the last several years, thanks to the economy.
This, despite the fact I've not asked for, or received a single increase for eight years. Meanwhile, they tried to get it decreased three years ago.
This despite the fact the ex has had a steady, well paying job the whole time. (For whatever reason,the lousy economy chose to spare him any grief.)
Oh, also despite the fact he's not spent one red cent on our son above what the court has insisted he pay.
I could go on, but I'll just move right to the real clincher.
Ready?
The hearing is scheduled for AUGUST 12th in OHIO!
Yup!
By some twist of fate, my two year long dream of spending the week of my birthday with my husband, kids, and grand-kids on a beach in Mexico has gradually been reduced to "celebrating" by sitting in a stuffy office in Ohio across the table from the ex (and God help me, probably his wife) trying to prove I'm not hiding a ton of money some place just to spite them.
I know that's why they appealed the court's decision to increase my son's support by a whopping $175.00/mo plus make him pay half of the boy's medical bills because I talked to the CSEA case worker today and she told me so!
Trust me. If I had a ton of money, hidden or otherwise, I wouldn't think of bothering the ex for help of any kind (even though he owes it to our son)
If I had a ton of money (or even just a little to spare) I'd be on that beach in Mexico sipping on a cold, fruity drink right now, any thoughts of the ex (or his wife) the absolute farthest thing from my mind!
Here I am instead. No Mexico. No Beach. No Big 50th Birthday Bash. No Money.
Just lots of aggravation and questions I'd like to have answered.
On second thought, forget about at least one of those questions. I'm afraid to ask "What next?" at this point. Given my current run of bad luck, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like the answer.
Poor me ... even worse, poor little elves!
Becky Taylor
July 30, 2010
When I wrote the last post, I reported the recent burning of my very important bridge to my "happy place". I also mentioned that I was clinging to the slightest possibility of little elves sneaking in and reconstructing it for me as a birthday surprise.
Yesterday I discovered the elves had been assassinated as well! I found their pitiful little carcasses scattered all over the place ... innocent victims of a malicious ex (or more likely his current wife.) Ugh!
No, make that double Ugh!
When is this going to end?
Why does it suddenly seem that life is out to get me?
Honestly, I started this blog with every intention of having fun with it ... lots of fun! Never did I intend it to turn into a whiny melodrama!
I'm a nice person. I always try to do what is right. I firmly (or at least use to) believe that one reaps what one sows.
Sow sweetness, reap cotton candy!
Sow nastiness, reap raw sewage!
Obviously the lines have been criss-crossed somewhere along the way because this definitely isn't cotton candy I'm standing in up to my armpits right now.
In summery: The ex (and his wife) have decided to appeal the court's decision to increase child support for the boy. This, despite the fact I am sitting on thousands of dollars of unpaid medical bills which the ex (and his wife) have refused to help pay.
This, despite the fact my income has steadily declined to almost nothing over the last several years, thanks to the economy.
This, despite the fact I've not asked for, or received a single increase for eight years. Meanwhile, they tried to get it decreased three years ago.
This despite the fact the ex has had a steady, well paying job the whole time. (For whatever reason,the lousy economy chose to spare him any grief.)
Oh, also despite the fact he's not spent one red cent on our son above what the court has insisted he pay.
I could go on, but I'll just move right to the real clincher.
Ready?
The hearing is scheduled for AUGUST 12th in OHIO!
Yup!
By some twist of fate, my two year long dream of spending the week of my birthday with my husband, kids, and grand-kids on a beach in Mexico has gradually been reduced to "celebrating" by sitting in a stuffy office in Ohio across the table from the ex (and God help me, probably his wife) trying to prove I'm not hiding a ton of money some place just to spite them.
I know that's why they appealed the court's decision to increase my son's support by a whopping $175.00/mo plus make him pay half of the boy's medical bills because I talked to the CSEA case worker today and she told me so!
Trust me. If I had a ton of money, hidden or otherwise, I wouldn't think of bothering the ex for help of any kind (even though he owes it to our son)
If I had a ton of money (or even just a little to spare) I'd be on that beach in Mexico sipping on a cold, fruity drink right now, any thoughts of the ex (or his wife) the absolute farthest thing from my mind!
Here I am instead. No Mexico. No Beach. No Big 50th Birthday Bash. No Money.
Just lots of aggravation and questions I'd like to have answered.
On second thought, forget about at least one of those questions. I'm afraid to ask "What next?" at this point. Given my current run of bad luck, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like the answer.
Poor me ... even worse, poor little elves!
Becky Taylor
July 30, 2010
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
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
Monday, May 31, 2010
Grandma Buys a Bathing Suit
I've outgrown my old bathing suits.
Since we've lived near the lake I've acquired several. My most recent favorite has been a cute little two piece (no, I'm not talking "bikini") that shows not too much and not too little. I've worn it when Walt and I were out on the lake alone, or when we've been on vacation.
I have another suit I like a lot as well. It's also a two piece, but the bottom is made like a pair of shorts with a little skirt over it. It isn't made out of that awful stretchy material a lot of skirted bottoms have. It's more like the regular stuff you'd expect shorts to be made of.
The top covers all the way down to the waistband of the shorts, so this suit provides more coverage than the first one. I wore it when I was planning to be more active, like when the grand kids were with us, or I thought I might be riding on the tube behind the boat. It's the one I wore when we went white water rafting too, so obviously I've felt fairly secure in it.
The rest of my swimsuits are pretty much mix and match. I bought one that has the regular "granny" style skirt on it. I don't care much for that one and have used it mostly only as a spare.
I own another two piece suit but I've only worn the top with the bottoms of the second suit I mentioned. It wasn't ideal, but it worked.
I tried my favorite suit on late last summer and realized it wasn't fitting quite like it use to. I knew I'd picked up a few pounds, but didn't think it was enough to make a difference in the way my clothes looked on me.
I was wrong. The cute little two piece "vacation" suit went back in the drawer and I pulled out suit number two. It still fit (pretty much). Thank God!
Earlier this spring, I tried my second favorite suit on again and noticed the bottoms were difficult to zip. I managed to get into it, but I didn't feel nearly as comfortable as I'd felt in the past. That's when I had to admit I was going to have to buy a new suit.
I suppose all women come to a similar moment of realization somewhere around the age of fifty. Even when we can get into the same size clothing as before, it fits differently. Suddenly all our flesh (and flab) moves to a new location on our bodies and apparently there isn't a darn thing we can do about it!
Except buy a new bathing suit.
I looked at bathing suits online last night just to get a feel for what was out there. I searched for suits that would slim the areas that need slimming and enhance the areas I'd like to enhance. It turns out they do make those suits, but not in my price range!
I had to compromise.
I settled on one I found on a nationwide department store website and went in search of it at the local store this morning. It's very similar to my second favorite suit, except the bottoms have regular bathing suit pants under the skirt instead of shorts.
And it covers a lot more.
Oh, and it's made out of that horrible stretchy material I associate with the "granny" skirts. Grr!
The one I bought wasn't the only one I tried on while I was there. I tried to find one I thought I'd like better.
That didn't happen. I noticed that every one I tried on seemed to cover more and more of my body. I came to the very sad realization that unless things turn around for me real soon, I'll be looking for a suit fashioned after those worn by women in the 1800's. (Remember the ones with the sleeves and knee length bloomers?)
I settled on the suit I'd found online. Obviously I'm not exactly in love with it but it will have to do for now.
It's a very "safe" suit. I won't have to worry about playing with the grand kids, riding the tube behind the boat, or white water rafting in it.
For that matter I probably won't feel out of place if I need to wear it while grocery shopping or going to a doctor's appointment. I've seen plenty of women out in public wearing a lot less and thought nothing of it!
Well, maybe not fifty year old women, but you know what I mean.
I suppose you might say I am at an awkward stage of life. It's the stage between trying to camouflage the tricks Mother Nature is playing with my body, and that where I truly just don't care what other people think anymore.
In the meantime it's just what I said ... awkward. In some ways I don't want to move on to the "I truly don't care" stage, while in others I wish I'd just hurry up and stop giving a darn!
Not giving a darn would make it much easier for me when I show up at the neighborhood pool in my 1800'style suit complete with sleeves and bloomers!
Until I make the transition, here's a picture of me taken in my previously favorite swim suit. Walt and I were on vacation year before last. I was waving to him from the beach in Bucerias, Mexico.
Or so I thought.
How was I to know I was actually waving good-bye to the days when I could wear a suit like that and get by with it?
Bye-bye cute little two piece suit. I hate to see you go ...
June 1, 2010
Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Since we've lived near the lake I've acquired several. My most recent favorite has been a cute little two piece (no, I'm not talking "bikini") that shows not too much and not too little. I've worn it when Walt and I were out on the lake alone, or when we've been on vacation.
I have another suit I like a lot as well. It's also a two piece, but the bottom is made like a pair of shorts with a little skirt over it. It isn't made out of that awful stretchy material a lot of skirted bottoms have. It's more like the regular stuff you'd expect shorts to be made of.
The top covers all the way down to the waistband of the shorts, so this suit provides more coverage than the first one. I wore it when I was planning to be more active, like when the grand kids were with us, or I thought I might be riding on the tube behind the boat. It's the one I wore when we went white water rafting too, so obviously I've felt fairly secure in it.
The rest of my swimsuits are pretty much mix and match. I bought one that has the regular "granny" style skirt on it. I don't care much for that one and have used it mostly only as a spare.
I own another two piece suit but I've only worn the top with the bottoms of the second suit I mentioned. It wasn't ideal, but it worked.
I tried my favorite suit on late last summer and realized it wasn't fitting quite like it use to. I knew I'd picked up a few pounds, but didn't think it was enough to make a difference in the way my clothes looked on me.
I was wrong. The cute little two piece "vacation" suit went back in the drawer and I pulled out suit number two. It still fit (pretty much). Thank God!
Earlier this spring, I tried my second favorite suit on again and noticed the bottoms were difficult to zip. I managed to get into it, but I didn't feel nearly as comfortable as I'd felt in the past. That's when I had to admit I was going to have to buy a new suit.
I suppose all women come to a similar moment of realization somewhere around the age of fifty. Even when we can get into the same size clothing as before, it fits differently. Suddenly all our flesh (and flab) moves to a new location on our bodies and apparently there isn't a darn thing we can do about it!
Except buy a new bathing suit.
I looked at bathing suits online last night just to get a feel for what was out there. I searched for suits that would slim the areas that need slimming and enhance the areas I'd like to enhance. It turns out they do make those suits, but not in my price range!
I had to compromise.
I settled on one I found on a nationwide department store website and went in search of it at the local store this morning. It's very similar to my second favorite suit, except the bottoms have regular bathing suit pants under the skirt instead of shorts.
And it covers a lot more.
Oh, and it's made out of that horrible stretchy material I associate with the "granny" skirts. Grr!
The one I bought wasn't the only one I tried on while I was there. I tried to find one I thought I'd like better.
That didn't happen. I noticed that every one I tried on seemed to cover more and more of my body. I came to the very sad realization that unless things turn around for me real soon, I'll be looking for a suit fashioned after those worn by women in the 1800's. (Remember the ones with the sleeves and knee length bloomers?)
I settled on the suit I'd found online. Obviously I'm not exactly in love with it but it will have to do for now.
It's a very "safe" suit. I won't have to worry about playing with the grand kids, riding the tube behind the boat, or white water rafting in it.
For that matter I probably won't feel out of place if I need to wear it while grocery shopping or going to a doctor's appointment. I've seen plenty of women out in public wearing a lot less and thought nothing of it!
Well, maybe not fifty year old women, but you know what I mean.
I suppose you might say I am at an awkward stage of life. It's the stage between trying to camouflage the tricks Mother Nature is playing with my body, and that where I truly just don't care what other people think anymore.
In the meantime it's just what I said ... awkward. In some ways I don't want to move on to the "I truly don't care" stage, while in others I wish I'd just hurry up and stop giving a darn!
Not giving a darn would make it much easier for me when I show up at the neighborhood pool in my 1800'style suit complete with sleeves and bloomers!
Until I make the transition, here's a picture of me taken in my previously favorite swim suit. Walt and I were on vacation year before last. I was waving to him from the beach in Bucerias, Mexico.
Or so I thought.
How was I to know I was actually waving good-bye to the days when I could wear a suit like that and get by with it?
Bye-bye cute little two piece suit. I hate to see you go ...
June 1, 2010
Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.boldnewday.com
http://www.beckyjtaylor.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, April 27, 2010
Mid-life Cry-sis
I've been really, really, really good about watching what I've been eating for a week now. That might not seem like such a big deal to you, but to me is is huge! HUGE like the size of my midsection these days. They don't call it the "middle age spread" for nothing, folks!
As I was saying, I decided a couple weeks ago that I would start eating better and trying to lose weight as soon as we got back from the family reunion and our trip to Savannah. I even cut my Diet Pepsi down to almost nothing because I heard the aspartame was bad for me.
Sure enough, I lost two pounds almost immediately.
Unfortunately, they were the same two pounds I'd picked up during our four days away, so I doubt it was "real" weight to begin with. Most likely it was only water.
Since then, I've stayed steady at about fifteen pounds over what I would weigh in a more perfect world. Ten pounds over the weight I'd almost kill for right now.
Meanwhile, I am hungry for the food I use to be able to eat without worrying about increasing my girth. I've never had horrible eating habits and I've never had to worry much about my weight.
Call me naive but I somehow thought the mid-life rules would not apply to me. I've always believed I'd welcome these years with outstretched arms. It's suppose to be liberating, right?
Excuse me while I double over in laughter at my own innocence.
It turns out that mid-life is a cruel prankster.
Too bad for me, I hate pranks ... and I'm hating mid-life so far.
Not only do I hate the extra weight that has firmly attached itself to my belly, I also hate the wrinkles on my face and neck. I hate the flab that waves in the breezes from the underside of my upper arms. I hate the sleepless nights.
I hate looking my age for the first time in my life!
If this is what being fifty is all about, I've changed my mind! I demand a re-count, or better yet a do-over! Back me up about three years and leave me there, happy and oblivious at 47. Is that too much to ask? It isn't like I am demanding to be twenty one all over again, I just want to be like I use to be a few short years ago.
So, stop the ride, I want to get off.
I don't want to be FIFTY!
I don't want to be old, tired, fat, moody and sweaty. Those things are just soooo NOT me. Give me my life back please.
Oh ... and you might want to give it back NOW, so nobody gets hurt!
Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
As I was saying, I decided a couple weeks ago that I would start eating better and trying to lose weight as soon as we got back from the family reunion and our trip to Savannah. I even cut my Diet Pepsi down to almost nothing because I heard the aspartame was bad for me.
Sure enough, I lost two pounds almost immediately.
Unfortunately, they were the same two pounds I'd picked up during our four days away, so I doubt it was "real" weight to begin with. Most likely it was only water.
Since then, I've stayed steady at about fifteen pounds over what I would weigh in a more perfect world. Ten pounds over the weight I'd almost kill for right now.
Meanwhile, I am hungry for the food I use to be able to eat without worrying about increasing my girth. I've never had horrible eating habits and I've never had to worry much about my weight.
Call me naive but I somehow thought the mid-life rules would not apply to me. I've always believed I'd welcome these years with outstretched arms. It's suppose to be liberating, right?
Excuse me while I double over in laughter at my own innocence.
It turns out that mid-life is a cruel prankster.
Too bad for me, I hate pranks ... and I'm hating mid-life so far.
Not only do I hate the extra weight that has firmly attached itself to my belly, I also hate the wrinkles on my face and neck. I hate the flab that waves in the breezes from the underside of my upper arms. I hate the sleepless nights.
I hate looking my age for the first time in my life!
If this is what being fifty is all about, I've changed my mind! I demand a re-count, or better yet a do-over! Back me up about three years and leave me there, happy and oblivious at 47. Is that too much to ask? It isn't like I am demanding to be twenty one all over again, I just want to be like I use to be a few short years ago.
So, stop the ride, I want to get off.
I don't want to be FIFTY!
I don't want to be old, tired, fat, moody and sweaty. Those things are just soooo NOT me. Give me my life back please.
Oh ... and you might want to give it back NOW, so nobody gets hurt!
Becky J. Taylor
Bold New Day! LLC
Personal Development Coaching for Women
http://www.beckyjtaylor.com
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Our Next Business Venture (A NEW Haunting in Savannah!)
While enjoying a short vacation in Savannah over the weekend, our daughter in law, Ryan and I had a stroke of genius regarding a possible new business we could not only start, but actually enjoy doing together.
It started with a walking "ghost tour" we (Walt, Ryan and Wesley and I) took together. I asked our tour guide how many evenings a week he works and he answered "three". Then he volunteered that during those three nights a week, he makes enough to pay his mortgage!
He also works as a Jr. High History teacher during the day. I wondered, but of course didn't ask, if maybe he makes almost as much with job as a tour guide as he does as a teacher.
That tidbit of information was enough to get the wheels a'turnin'.
Walt is a natural born story teller, and having been on several tours of Savannah (ghost and otherwise) in the past we decided he would make a great tour guide. Given the various renditions of the stories we've heard over the years, we came to the conclusion that a lot of the stuff is made improvised. Mr. Taylor would be great at that!
Meanwhile, Ryan and I would disguise ourselves as specters by wearing floaty white dresses and hanging out around one of the many town squares at night. We figure we could enlist people to take Walt's undoubtedly unique walking tour at ten or fifteen bucks a piece. That, with additional tips added would surely bring in enough money for us to buy an old "fixer upper" which we could restore and use as a house museum to bring even more additional funds.
Of course, with all these plans we will need other family members to participate so we are inviting them all to join us there. Grand-kids, Esther, Philip, Shaina, Kayla and Jayden would be great at portraying any of the number of "mischievous" child specters reported to be roaming Savannah's historic hotels. For a few months, the new grand-child due to arrive in August could also participate as the baby claimed to be sought after by his mother, "Alice" ... an 1800's servant who was hanged in the square shortly after giving birth. Her ghost is reported to have been seen walking around town searching for the little guy for the last 200 years. We figured my daughter, Angel could also don a white floaty gown and carry the baby around at night telling everyone she is the famous "Alice" and she's finally found him!
With all of us involved, the possibilities would be endless!
At the very least, I believe this idea merits further investigation, oh say .. at least a weekend a month spent in Savannah for the next year, to scope out the town and collect more information. (All tax deductible business trips, of course.)
Yes, I do believe we're on to something here! We are going to be RICH! Filthy RICH, I tell you!
Stay tuned for future updates! ;^)
It started with a walking "ghost tour" we (Walt, Ryan and Wesley and I) took together. I asked our tour guide how many evenings a week he works and he answered "three". Then he volunteered that during those three nights a week, he makes enough to pay his mortgage!
He also works as a Jr. High History teacher during the day. I wondered, but of course didn't ask, if maybe he makes almost as much with job as a tour guide as he does as a teacher.
That tidbit of information was enough to get the wheels a'turnin'.
Walt is a natural born story teller, and having been on several tours of Savannah (ghost and otherwise) in the past we decided he would make a great tour guide. Given the various renditions of the stories we've heard over the years, we came to the conclusion that a lot of the stuff is made improvised. Mr. Taylor would be great at that!
Meanwhile, Ryan and I would disguise ourselves as specters by wearing floaty white dresses and hanging out around one of the many town squares at night. We figure we could enlist people to take Walt's undoubtedly unique walking tour at ten or fifteen bucks a piece. That, with additional tips added would surely bring in enough money for us to buy an old "fixer upper" which we could restore and use as a house museum to bring even more additional funds.
Of course, with all these plans we will need other family members to participate so we are inviting them all to join us there. Grand-kids, Esther, Philip, Shaina, Kayla and Jayden would be great at portraying any of the number of "mischievous" child specters reported to be roaming Savannah's historic hotels. For a few months, the new grand-child due to arrive in August could also participate as the baby claimed to be sought after by his mother, "Alice" ... an 1800's servant who was hanged in the square shortly after giving birth. Her ghost is reported to have been seen walking around town searching for the little guy for the last 200 years. We figured my daughter, Angel could also don a white floaty gown and carry the baby around at night telling everyone she is the famous "Alice" and she's finally found him!
With all of us involved, the possibilities would be endless!
At the very least, I believe this idea merits further investigation, oh say .. at least a weekend a month spent in Savannah for the next year, to scope out the town and collect more information. (All tax deductible business trips, of course.)
Yes, I do believe we're on to something here! We are going to be RICH! Filthy RICH, I tell you!
Stay tuned for future updates! ;^)
Thursday, March 25, 2010
My First Age Spot
The darkened, slightly rough patch of skin cropped up on my right wrist a few months ago. At first glance, I figured it was a previously unnoticed scrape that was in the beginning stages of healing. On further inspection I noticed it was not that at all.
It's apparently an age spot. My first one!
How appropriate that it would arrive a few months before my fiftieth birthday. I am actually a bit ahead of the game in hitting my middle-age milestones as I don't think I'm really quite old enough to develop age spots yet.
Not that anyone would notice. The spot isn't quite as big as a pencil eraser, yet now that I've seen it, it draws my attention like a magnet every time my right arm moves anywhere within my line of vision.
It really isn't that bad. What concerns me is the question, "If I get an age spot at forty nine and a half years of age, what's next?"
I really wish that, in addition to the baby book my mother kept for me, she would have kept a book tracking her own milestones. A diary would have been nice, at the least, especially since my mother also had a teenager (me!) when she was going on fifty.
"Journal Entry, Sept. 3, 1976. Becky Jean started tenth grade today, and I got my first age spot."
How handy that would be! I could read ahead and know what to expect in the months to come.
It's too late for that now and I never would have dreamed I would desire such a resource anyway. As a teenager, I had no intention of ever getting old much less developing wrinkles and age spots!
Maybe this is the way it's suppose to be. Perhaps if I'd known about the age spot ahead of time, I would have stressed over it and expedited the arrival of the already impending "worry lines" on my forehead.
Time goes by, and if we are fortunate enough to survive the process, little inconveniences like age spots and wrinkles are inevitable. They aren't exactly sexy but I feel I've earned every one of them and I will consider them medals of honor to be worn proudly.
As I like to say, "It is what it is!" ... and this thing on my wrist definitely is my first doggone age spot!
March 25, 2010
Becky Taylor
Personal Development Coach for Women
Bold New Day! LLC
http://www.boldnewday.com
It's apparently an age spot. My first one!
How appropriate that it would arrive a few months before my fiftieth birthday. I am actually a bit ahead of the game in hitting my middle-age milestones as I don't think I'm really quite old enough to develop age spots yet.
Not that anyone would notice. The spot isn't quite as big as a pencil eraser, yet now that I've seen it, it draws my attention like a magnet every time my right arm moves anywhere within my line of vision.
It really isn't that bad. What concerns me is the question, "If I get an age spot at forty nine and a half years of age, what's next?"
I really wish that, in addition to the baby book my mother kept for me, she would have kept a book tracking her own milestones. A diary would have been nice, at the least, especially since my mother also had a teenager (me!) when she was going on fifty.
"Journal Entry, Sept. 3, 1976. Becky Jean started tenth grade today, and I got my first age spot."
How handy that would be! I could read ahead and know what to expect in the months to come.
It's too late for that now and I never would have dreamed I would desire such a resource anyway. As a teenager, I had no intention of ever getting old much less developing wrinkles and age spots!
Maybe this is the way it's suppose to be. Perhaps if I'd known about the age spot ahead of time, I would have stressed over it and expedited the arrival of the already impending "worry lines" on my forehead.
Time goes by, and if we are fortunate enough to survive the process, little inconveniences like age spots and wrinkles are inevitable. They aren't exactly sexy but I feel I've earned every one of them and I will consider them medals of honor to be worn proudly.
As I like to say, "It is what it is!" ... and this thing on my wrist definitely is my first doggone age spot!
March 25, 2010
Becky Taylor
Personal Development Coach for Women
Bold New Day! LLC
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
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
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The Eye Of The Beholder
Among my most prized earthly possessions is an antique "Hoosier" cabinet that once belonged to my grandmother. I spent hours playing with it when I was a child, so much that Grandma decided I should have it for my own when I grew up.
When the cabinet came into my home about 15 years ago, I immediately found a spot for it in the breakfast nook. Perfect! I marveled at old cabinet and gently placed my own hands over the areas where my grandmother's hands had worn away the paint over many years of pie-making on it's surface.
For a few minutes, I was a five year old girl again, tirelessly spinning the handle that use to sift the flour for Grandma's delicious baked goods. The original yellow stoneware bowl, now cracked with age, had my name scrawled across the bottom with a marker. B-e-c-k-y. I thought about the day my grandmother had written it there to insure the cabinet would land in the proper hands after she was gone.
For a few minutes, I was a five year old girl again, tirelessly spinning the handle that use to sift the flour for Grandma's delicious baked goods. The original yellow stoneware bowl, now cracked with age, had my name scrawled across the bottom with a marker. B-e-c-k-y. I thought about the day my grandmother had written it there to insure the cabinet would land in the proper hands after she was gone.
Needless to say, that old cabinet is worth a million dollars to me. I truly don't know that I could part with it for all the money in the world! It's sentimental value is much higher than any monetary gain it might bring. I love that old cabinet! Just looking at it makes me feel warm and safe, much like I use to feel in my grandmother's arms.
Today the cabinet sits in the breakfast nook of our new home. Instead of housing baking supplies, it has become bit of a "catch all" for our family's odds and ends that have no where else to go. Art supplies for my own grandkids, a few books, table cloths, and our camera to name a few. Though it's function has changed, it remains a vital member of our family.
My six year old grand-daughter, Esther was here for a few days this past week. She pulled the box of art supplies out of the cabinet, then stepped back and looked at it for a brief moment.
"Mamaw", she stated "You really should buy a new cabinet. This one's old and it doesn't look too good."
What? How could that child possibly say such a horrible thing about my grandmother's cabinet?
Ahh, but it is true. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.
Esther didn't know my grand-mother (or even my mother for that matter). When she looks at the cabinet, she sees an old piece of furniture, it's surface dulled by time and paint worn through around the handles. There's no way she can understand that to me, those worn places symbolize the spots where my grandmothers petite, flour covered hands once touched. It is there, I find indescribable beauty in the old Hoosier cabinet.
In fact, our home is filled with beautiful things, but that cabinet is probably the only piece of furniture I would actually risk my life to save if ever there were a flood or fire.
I started to explain the importance of the cabinet to Esther, but decided on a brief summary instead. I told her I loved the cabinet because it was my grandma's and I use to play with it when I was her age. She seemed to be content with my story and went on her way with her art supplies.
I hope that in the future, Esther will remember the cabinet as fondly as I do now. Nothing would make me happier than to think it might sit in her own home as a most treasured possession someday. Just imagining her trying to explain it's value to her grandchildren (my great grandchildren) makes my heart smile.
"My grandma use to keep my art supplies in that cabinet when I was a little girl" She will tell them. And then she will run her fingers across the marks around the handles where the paint is worn thin ... and she will smile and add, "I wouldn't take a million dollars for this old thing"
Monday, January 5, 2009
Why Do They Call It A Fast (When It Goes So SLOW?)
Our church family is currently finishing up day two of our annual twenty-one day fast. Several of us have opted to begin by doing a three day "water only" fast, then switch to the "Daniel" fast which allows fruits and vegetables, and a few other basic "real" food items.
My husband is going to go even longer than the three days on water only. Personally, I'm drinking water every day until sundown, then eating some of the actual "Daniel" fast foods in order to take my medications. Otherwise, the meds would upset my stomach terribly and trust me, we don't want that to happen.
This fasting stuff is an interesting experience. I'd like to say I'm so "super-spiritual" that I find it enjoyable, but I'd be lying. Although I didn't read anything in the "fasting guidelines" specifically addressing the subject of telling lies while fasting, I'm pretty sure it would have adverse effects on the desired outcome.
So, can you handle the truth? I'll tell you the stinkin' truth! I dread this thing every year. It's the only time I actually contemplate the possibility of finding a different church to attend, at least for a few weeks during the month of January!
Gasp! Of course I don't mean that.
I believe with all my heart that God Himself, has placed me in my particular church family. That is where I'm suppose to be and I wouldn't change it for the world. After all, I want nothing more than to be in the center of HIS will for my life. If my Pastor calls a fast every January, then that's what I know I should be doing.
But, do I have to LIKE it? I hope not, because if that's the case, I am in some deep trouble!
Fasting can be compared to labor and delivery. I've had three babies in my lifetime, and can honestly say I always enjoyed being pregnant. Even more so, I excitedly looked forward to finally holding each of my precious newborn babies in my arms!
The labor and delivery part though? I can't say I looked forward to THAT aspect of the whole "having a baby" process in the least. Even though all my labors and deliveries were relatively easy (for lack of a better word), there was nothing enjoyable about it! Not once during any of my pregnancies did I ever say, "Oh! I just can't wait to spend hours in writhing pain! Bring it on!"
I did, however, happily anticipate bringing my babies into this world and have been known to comment, "I wish I would hurry up and go into labor!"
Did I just contradict myself?
No!
I knew that labor and delivery were very necessary in order to get my babies here. That was my reward for enduring the pain.
Talk about the "end justifying the means"!
The same goes for fasting. Every year I dread it.
And every year I also know it's something I MUST do, because at the end of the fast there is always a great reward. Just like giving birth, there's something about what happens as a result of fasting that makes it seem "not so bad" after all. It makes me say that I would definitely do it all over again.
(Just not immediately, of course!)
That's what I focus on while I busy chewing on raw broccoli and washing it down with water when I'd much rather be gulping down a pizza with a side of Diet Pepsi! Eventually, the painful part WILL end!
Right now, with two fasting days behind me and nineteen left to go, that "end" seems like a million miles away.
I can do this! With God's help, I know I can.
But boy! Will I ever be happy when it's all over and done, and I can go back to eating "real" food for the other forty-nine weeks of the 2009!
Becky Taylor 1/5/09
My husband is going to go even longer than the three days on water only. Personally, I'm drinking water every day until sundown, then eating some of the actual "Daniel" fast foods in order to take my medications. Otherwise, the meds would upset my stomach terribly and trust me, we don't want that to happen.
This fasting stuff is an interesting experience. I'd like to say I'm so "super-spiritual" that I find it enjoyable, but I'd be lying. Although I didn't read anything in the "fasting guidelines" specifically addressing the subject of telling lies while fasting, I'm pretty sure it would have adverse effects on the desired outcome.
So, can you handle the truth? I'll tell you the stinkin' truth! I dread this thing every year. It's the only time I actually contemplate the possibility of finding a different church to attend, at least for a few weeks during the month of January!
Gasp! Of course I don't mean that.
I believe with all my heart that God Himself, has placed me in my particular church family. That is where I'm suppose to be and I wouldn't change it for the world. After all, I want nothing more than to be in the center of HIS will for my life. If my Pastor calls a fast every January, then that's what I know I should be doing.
But, do I have to LIKE it? I hope not, because if that's the case, I am in some deep trouble!
Fasting can be compared to labor and delivery. I've had three babies in my lifetime, and can honestly say I always enjoyed being pregnant. Even more so, I excitedly looked forward to finally holding each of my precious newborn babies in my arms!
The labor and delivery part though? I can't say I looked forward to THAT aspect of the whole "having a baby" process in the least. Even though all my labors and deliveries were relatively easy (for lack of a better word), there was nothing enjoyable about it! Not once during any of my pregnancies did I ever say, "Oh! I just can't wait to spend hours in writhing pain! Bring it on!"
I did, however, happily anticipate bringing my babies into this world and have been known to comment, "I wish I would hurry up and go into labor!"
Did I just contradict myself?
No!
I knew that labor and delivery were very necessary in order to get my babies here. That was my reward for enduring the pain.
Talk about the "end justifying the means"!
The same goes for fasting. Every year I dread it.
And every year I also know it's something I MUST do, because at the end of the fast there is always a great reward. Just like giving birth, there's something about what happens as a result of fasting that makes it seem "not so bad" after all. It makes me say that I would definitely do it all over again.
(Just not immediately, of course!)
That's what I focus on while I busy chewing on raw broccoli and washing it down with water when I'd much rather be gulping down a pizza with a side of Diet Pepsi! Eventually, the painful part WILL end!
Right now, with two fasting days behind me and nineteen left to go, that "end" seems like a million miles away.
I can do this! With God's help, I know I can.
But boy! Will I ever be happy when it's all over and done, and I can go back to eating "real" food for the other forty-nine weeks of the 2009!
Becky Taylor 1/5/09
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
I Should Have Seen It Coming
This day just started out too good. That should have been my first clue that it would be best to crawl back into bed and stay there where it was safe.
But like I said, it started out great. First of all, I woke up feeling rested ... always a plus for someone who's "pushing fifty", then after the boy went to school I made a pot of coffee and sat down at the computer where I typed to my heart's content on my coaching blog. Once my brain and fingertips were equally numb, I turned my energy towards housecleaning and got a ton of things accomplished in that arena.
While I was sitting down to rest, I received a call from someone requesting one of my free sample coaching sessions, a very good thing since I need all I can get for my certification. (Although it would be nice to have a couple of them turn into a paying clients for a change)
That call came in around noon and the best I can recall, it was the last really good thing that happened to me today. It's been all downhill from there, I'm afraid. From that point on, it's been one minor disaster after another until finally I am exhausted and watching the clock for a decent hour at which to declare the day done with, crawl into bed and pull the covers back over my head.
I know, even on the worst of days I am still blessed. But even on my best days lately I am feeling a little fragile and tired.
And this was one of those.
But like I said, it started out great. First of all, I woke up feeling rested ... always a plus for someone who's "pushing fifty", then after the boy went to school I made a pot of coffee and sat down at the computer where I typed to my heart's content on my coaching blog. Once my brain and fingertips were equally numb, I turned my energy towards housecleaning and got a ton of things accomplished in that arena.
While I was sitting down to rest, I received a call from someone requesting one of my free sample coaching sessions, a very good thing since I need all I can get for my certification. (Although it would be nice to have a couple of them turn into a paying clients for a change)
That call came in around noon and the best I can recall, it was the last really good thing that happened to me today. It's been all downhill from there, I'm afraid. From that point on, it's been one minor disaster after another until finally I am exhausted and watching the clock for a decent hour at which to declare the day done with, crawl into bed and pull the covers back over my head.
I know, even on the worst of days I am still blessed. But even on my best days lately I am feeling a little fragile and tired.
And this was one of those.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Who Woulda Thunk It?
I decided today to have the cat bite on my leg checked by a doctor. Right after church this morning, we drove to the same Urgent Care clinic I went to for the torn meniscus a month or so ago.
The area around the bite was so swollen and sore Friday night, that I couldn't bear to have the bed sheet touching it. Saturday morning, the worst of the puncture wounds started oozing fluid and I suspected an infection had taken hold.
After the oozing episode, my leg started to look better and hurt less so I waited until today to go to Urgent Care.
I'm glad I went! I received antibiotics and quite an education during my visit.
Did you know that cat bites are second only to human bites as far as risk of serious infection goes? They are! The doctor told me that he's had one patient who actually lost her leg below the knee because she waited 10 days after a cat bit her to have her injuries treated.
OK, so the lady was 80 years old, the neighborhood "cat lady", and the cat that bit her was a wild stray.
Still, that information certainly got my attention.
Also, did you know it's common medical procedure to treat ALL cat bites with antibiotics even if there are no signs of infection at all?
Given the story of the now one-legged cat lady, I can understand why.
Injuries such as the ones inflicted by my sweet, playful Skippy tend to fool people by appearing to heal, when in reality there are bacteria "incubating" and breeding deep within the tissue. If untreated, the bacteria can get into the bloodstream and travel to other parts of the body. If it finds it's way to, oh say ... the heart, it can be FATAL.
That's good to know, Doc, but you had me convinced way back at first mention of amputation of the injured limb!
Thankfully, the doctor himself is a cat lover so he was completely understanding of my plight. I'd feared he might suspect I was harboring a dangerous animal and insist the CDC be called in to investigate. I hated the idea of poor Skippyjon having to go before a jury of his Siamese kitty peers, and possibly be convicted of "cruelty to a human".
No need to worry now. In a week or so my leg should be back to normal, (with the exception of a couple fang shaped scars) , Skippyjon has already forgotten the whole incident... and we are all a little wiser for the experience!
The area around the bite was so swollen and sore Friday night, that I couldn't bear to have the bed sheet touching it. Saturday morning, the worst of the puncture wounds started oozing fluid and I suspected an infection had taken hold.
After the oozing episode, my leg started to look better and hurt less so I waited until today to go to Urgent Care.
I'm glad I went! I received antibiotics and quite an education during my visit.
Did you know that cat bites are second only to human bites as far as risk of serious infection goes? They are! The doctor told me that he's had one patient who actually lost her leg below the knee because she waited 10 days after a cat bit her to have her injuries treated.
OK, so the lady was 80 years old, the neighborhood "cat lady", and the cat that bit her was a wild stray.
Still, that information certainly got my attention.
Also, did you know it's common medical procedure to treat ALL cat bites with antibiotics even if there are no signs of infection at all?
Given the story of the now one-legged cat lady, I can understand why.
Injuries such as the ones inflicted by my sweet, playful Skippy tend to fool people by appearing to heal, when in reality there are bacteria "incubating" and breeding deep within the tissue. If untreated, the bacteria can get into the bloodstream and travel to other parts of the body. If it finds it's way to, oh say ... the heart, it can be FATAL.
That's good to know, Doc, but you had me convinced way back at first mention of amputation of the injured limb!
Thankfully, the doctor himself is a cat lover so he was completely understanding of my plight. I'd feared he might suspect I was harboring a dangerous animal and insist the CDC be called in to investigate. I hated the idea of poor Skippyjon having to go before a jury of his Siamese kitty peers, and possibly be convicted of "cruelty to a human".
No need to worry now. In a week or so my leg should be back to normal, (with the exception of a couple fang shaped scars) , Skippyjon has already forgotten the whole incident... and we are all a little wiser for the experience!
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