Curiosity, Humor, Names, Social Media, Women

Knock it Off

7 Comments

I wonder who on earth came up with the idea to refer to an American female who exudes privilege and demands to speak to your manager, “Karen”?

If their identity was ever determined, I’d ask them “Why….just why?” Was there a woman named Karen that hurt them?

Think of all the wonderful women named Karen out there. My aunt, who spelled her name “Karyn”, God rest her soul, was a wonderful human being. She gave great hugs, had a boisterous laugh, and loved her family fiercely. It warmed my heart when I received a Christmas card from her, maybe a year before she passed, in which she wrote, “I love you”.

Then there’s Karen, the lady who was the program director for the non-profit I work at prior to my employment there, who always finds time to volunteer to help our clients.

And the wonderful, big-hearted, kind, and faithful Karen I knew and admired so much from the church Mr. NOA and I attended in the early to mid-2000’s.

If one must come up with one single female name for this type of woman, shouldn’t it be Judith?

Amanda Peet as Judith in a favorite comedy of mine, “Saving Silverman”

I’m kidding around here a bit, but bear with me.

Imagine your name is Karen. Or Judith, for that matter. Your name-the one your parents lovingly gave you, has been co-opted. Your name is now synonymous with this image of an uptight, screechy, demanding woman who is shunned from society based on her actions.

That’s got to suck, right?

This is but a minor example of how social media has given us permission to spout off in judgement of others. It’s not healthy for any of us. I am guilty of spouting off and I imagine you are too. It’s human nature. But not the best of human nature.

I think those of us using the name “Karen” in this way ought to knock it off. Surely, if we feel compelled to call out the abhorrent behavior of a female in public, there’s got to be a way to refer to said female beyond using an actual legit name. Maybe call her “Cruella”, or “Maleficent”? Just a thought.

To no one’s surprise, I’m certain, I’m going to sign off with a song performed by a most beloved “Karen”. Her voice is the auditory version of butter, don’t you think?

***Image of Judith courtesy of https://www.blu-ray.com/movies/Saving-Silverman-Blu-ray/29787/***

Fun, GenX, Humor, Music

Reflections on Vinyl

3 Comments

A couple of Christmases ago, Mr. NOA bought me a new turntable. It was something I had wanted for a while. We have a finished basement here in House Number 8. Ever since we moved in, I had visions of utilizing that space for random, music-infused friends and family fun times. A turntable with an eclectic collection of vinyl was sure to bring my vision to life.

Thus far, I have only purchased two vinyl albums: Billy Joel’s 52nd Street (a favorite of mine in the 80’s) and “Mellow Gold” which is one of those compilation albums (3 albums in one!) comprised of pop hits from various artists in the 60’s and 70’s. I picked that one based on the songs listed on the back cover. My favorite songs in this compilation include “Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot, “Doctor my Eyes” by Jackson Browne, and “She’s Gone” by Hall and Oates. There’s also two songs on this album that I recall singing in my “Madrigals” group back in high school: “Baby, I’m Yours” by Barbara Lewis, and “Cherish” by The Association.

I know, I’m such a music nerd.

Friends, I can count on one hand how many times in the last almost two years that I listened to these albums in my happy-good-times finished basement. And the only other person who was ever present with me any of these times was my 10 year-old grandson, while we were creating art together on the big folding table I have down there.

Now, I have faith that my HGT finished basement will become a veritable music-filled hang-out spot as time marches on; for now, however, I’m on a mission to find used vinyl to up the chances this will happen sooner rather than later.

Here’s what I recently found at a local thrift store. Perhaps it should have come home with me-however it seems more fun to consider what is going on with the album cover.

Clearly, these are “fancy” men. They envision being adored by their fans and they dress impeccably. I’m not sure if the red roses are being tossed to them by their audience or if this is just a show to ensure all are aware that these are chivalrous, romantic cis-het men who most certainly shower their ladies with beautiful bouquets on the regular. And what on earth is with the fish?

I’m sure they had an artistic vision for this cover. I was going to continue this snark-fest and pontificate on the song titles featured on the back of this album, but I got distracted by Google. However, before I could put this little blog post out there into the world, I felt compelled to at least do a quick search on this band.

Turns out, Heaven 17 included two of the guys from the Human League, and it appears this album actually was considered great by fans of 80’s English synth-pop. Human League put out one of my very favorite pop songs in the 80’s, “Fascination” which I wrote about here.

So apparently you can’t judge an album by its cover. Nor if you don’t even listen to it.

Speaking of album covers, I picked up a coffee table book (A Brief History of Album Covers by Jason Draper) while thrifting a couple of years ago. I have leafed through it several times and came to the conclusion that I can’t possibly display it lest my grandson gets to looking at it. The commentary within this little treasure is for mature eyes only.

So, tell me, my fellow vinyl lovers, what do you play on your turntable?

Let me leave you with a slightly more recent favorite song of mine, which I stumbled upon whilst perusing YouTube looking for songs to share from my “Mellow Gold” album. Turns out, Beck came out with an album of the same name. I hope you love the absolute weirdness of this video as much as I do.

Adventure, Art, Books, Lifestyle, Positivity, Reading, Travel, Washington DC

Reading and Travel: Past and Soon

4 Comments

I’m at about the halfway mark with my self-imposed challenge for this year of reading 24 books. Not as far as I thought I’d be at this juncture, but I’ll get there.

One of the books I very much enjoyed is “Life in Five Senses” by Gretchen Rubin.

Essentially, Gretchen, a writer in NYC who pens self-reflective non-fiction, has a moment in her eye doctor’s office that gets her thinking about how she takes her eyesight for granted. This gets her pondering about her sense of hearing, touch, taste, and smell. As a result, she decides she’s going to do a deep exploration of her five senses and document her findings along the way.

She decides to start, naturally, with her sense of sight. She proceeds to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art on a daily basis. She often did it solo, which is how I most enjoy visiting museums. I felt a kinship with her along with a little slice of envy. She noticed different things on various pieces of art as time went on. Depending on the time of day she was there, the light would hit differently and change the way she saw them.

The Envy Part: I’ve never lived in NYC, nor have I even visited there. I hope to, someday (visit, that is). As a teenager in the ’80s, I would fantasize about living in a NYC brownstone, working as a journalist for Rolling Stone, and meeting up with friends after work for happy hour in one of the many chic nightclubs there. To have the ability to take myself to the Met whenever I pleased as she did for this book-well, I’m envious.

The Kinship Part: The last time Mr. NOA and I traveled to Washington, D.C. together (me as his “plus one” as this was a work trip) was in December of 2022. I took the Metro into D.C. from Silver Spring, Maryland, and visited some Smithsonian museums. It gave me so much pleasure to walk around and check things out that I was interested in at my leisure. I wrote a blog post about it, which included pictures I snapped on my journey while Mr. NOA was busy with work meetings. Yet I never published it.

In fact, I tried looking for it in my “trash” folder but poof! it’s gone. I guess the trash eventually takes itself all the way out, right?

I have no great reason for not publishing it. Maybe it was due to the vibe of the city feeling off in my mind, as the U.S. was coming out of the Covid-19 era and so many businesses had shuttered. Climate change was evident as there was nary a flake of snow on the sidewalks and the temps were strangely mild. We even saw some roses still blooming. It was just a different experience for me than the last time we had been there (December of 2019). The energy was just so subdued. I always like to stay positive in my blog posts, and I guess I just couldn’t muster an acceptable level of positivity to warrant publishing that particular post.

Here’s one picture I took during that trip.

From the Smithsonian American Art Museum-I love this truism: “We are Made of Stories”

Next month, I will be joining Mr. NOA on another work trip to our nation’s capital. I am hopeful and jazzed about this trip. Hope is in the air, as we appear to be on the cusp of moving forward with our country’s leadership. You might think me naive, but I believe the energy in our nation’s capital will reflect this sense of hope. I’ll spend time between now and then researching online what new exhibits I can explore solo at the Smithsonian and elsewhere in D.C.

Any suggestions you have for me (of either the books to read or sites to see in D.C. variety) in the comments are most appreciated!

As a grateful American as well as a fan of The Chicks, who is fascinated with the history of the intersections of pop culture and American history, I leave you with this outstanding version of The Star-Spangled Banner.

Lifestyle, Mental Health, Relaxation, Self Compassion, Self-Care, Storytelling

Massages for Self-Care: Yay or Nay?

8 Comments

Personally, I say a big fat “Yay!” when it comes to getting a full body massage.

In fact, I just had one the other day. I won’t have another one for probably three months, however, as my talented and very pregnant massage therapist will be on maternity leave for a while. I’m not planning on finding a substitute for her either, because I believe it’s unlikely I’ll find anyone as good as her and heck, it might be nice to save myself a little bit of money.

I started getting massages on a regular basis probably 12 years ago. Mr. NOA and I would pay for the lovely Anna to give us deep tissue massages every 2 weeks or so. She was so good at her job. She was friendly and easy to talk to as well. I would often spend most of the massage chatting with her about the trials and tribulations of parenting, and my work life.

I had such a good connection with her that I was comfortable enough to ask her a question that had been simmering in my head since she started giving me regular massages. I asked her if clients ever farted while enjoying her massages. She replied that they most certainly did and it didn’t faze her at all. She told a story about a male client who often would fall completely asleep on her table and let ‘er rip. She laughed as she told me this and assured me she would not be offended if I had to release some gas myself during my sessions with her.

When I get massages from my current massage therapist, we typically chat for the first few minutes about the weather or what we’ve been up to since my last massage. After that, I zip my lips and just let my body melt beneath her heavenly (and suprisingly strong) hands.

It took me a few sessions with her for me to feel comfortable not being chatty the whole time. It begs the question for those of you reading this today who also are fans of massage therapy: do you feel compelled to chat with your massage therapist when they’re working on you? Or are you more of a “melter” as I have become?

I remember a client I had, back when I was a social worker, who had MS (the relapsing- remitting kind). He got regular massages. It seemed to help him quite a bit. I always believed that, due to him being anti-social and paranoid, his massage therapist was likely the only other human who laid their hands on him, like ever. He lived alone, had few friends and generally did not seem to like people. This always struck me as heartbreaking. I think we often undervalue the power of human touch.

I’ve been in therapy for a few months now (the mental health variety). Recently, my therapist asked me a question I don’t think any other person has ever asked me: what are you doing for self-care? It caught me off guard, and all I could manage was to say that writing is my primary mode of self-care. Not writing just to post in this blog of mine, but writing for just me. It helps me sort through what I’m thinking and feeling and it often gives me needed perspective.

But that’s not all I do for self-care, obviously. The massages I get are deeply relaxing and stress-reducing. Petting and talking to my good boy Radar is a form of self-care. Spending time in the sunshine is a form of self-care for me. Writing a to-do list and checking things off as I go is self-care for me. It give me a sense of accomplishment; a little boost.

Whether or not you, my readers, enjoy massage therapy as a form of self-care, I’d love to read any comments you’d like to share about what specifically you do that falls under the self-care umbrella.

As always, I am ending this blog post with a song. This one is not only gorgeous but fitting for the relaxing and contemplative vibes I experience when I’m on that massage table.

Grandparenting, Happiness, Humor, Joy, Storytelling, Summer Fun

The Alphabet Game

6 Comments

Over the 4th of July weekend, my daughter, 10 year-old grandson and I went on a road trip together to visit family and friends.

As we were making our way up to the “Northland”, my grandson was immersed in playing games on his tablet in the backseat. After a while, I could hear the voice of one of those young adult “gaming bros” on their YouTube channel going on in their annoyingly enthusiastic manner about whatever game they were playing.

The grandma in me decided I had enough of that business. I suggested, with no actual confidence that this suggestion was going to be embraced by the kid, that we could play the “alphabet game”.

You know this one, right? I can’t imagine it was just my family (actually, me and my Mom, Bonnie) that played this on long car rides.

Anyway. It’s a simple game. All you do is start with the letter “A”. You “spy with your little eye” that one simple letter. You might find it on a sign. Or on the license plate of the vehicle that just passed you. Then, of course, you loudly exclaim “I found an A!” and proceed onto the letter “B” and so on until you get to “Z”. The first person who gets all the way through the alphabet wins.

Thankfully (or perhaps not, as it became a bit of an obsession over the course of the weekend), the kiddo latched onto this suggestion of mine with gusto.

Playing this game with him on this road trip was a huge highlight of this grandma’s summer. The “Alphabet Game” did the following wonderful things: it gave this bright boy a mental challenge. It gave us an opportunity to interact with each other for a sustained period of time. It got him off that obnoxious “gamer boy/man” YouTube channel so my daughter and I didn’t have to suffer through it any longer. It gave me a great memory. My hope as this boy’s grandma is that he was imprinted with a great memory too.

Baby, this kid is a firework indeed.

Gratitude, Lifestyle, Minnesconsin, Photography, Summer

It’s Sunday and I’m Still Here-Where Are You?

4 Comments

So.

How is YOUR summer going thus far?

Have you been able to enjoy the outdoors in whatever way you prefer?

Have you taken at least a little bit of time to rest and rejuvinate?

My answers to these questions would be thus:

Fantastic. Busy, but I hate that word because it connotes that I’m in some way special, important, “above it all”. Let’s just say that my social calendar is fuller than usual these days. This is not a complaint. Nor is it a “brag”.

Spending time outdoors for me this summer has been hit and miss. Largely because of all the rain we’ve been getting here in Minnesconsin. But today is Sunday and we’ve got a lovely family get-together planned at my in-laws on this sunny, blue-sky, calm wind day so outdoor time with the people I love so much is happening.

I’m going to do something a little weird here and pause my train of thought for a musical interlude. This is a wonderfully written and very 60’s groove-ily performed piece of music, IMHO.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve taken much time to rest and rejuvinate this summer. Again, not a complaint nor a “brag”. But, I would add the word “yet” to my answer. Mr. NOA thankfully has completed a years-long work project as of last week and he’s taken several days off starting this month and through the end of September. For this, I am grateful. It means that personal rest and relaxation are on the horizon for me, as the Mr. will be free to pick up a bit more slack (of the household variety) as well as occupy himself with outdoor projects.

One thing I’ve been focusing more on these days is photography. Though, I feel that calling it “photography” is a bit much. It’s just me using the camera on my cell phone every now and again. For no great reason, I often neglect to take pictures of family and friends (as well as me and Mr. NOA), amidst our gatherings, but I have been enjoying taking pictures of my environment.

Here’s a few:

I wish you all the best vibes on this beautiful Sunday!

Speaking of beautiful vibes, here’s a song that, to me, embodies them like few others do.

Memory, SocialAnxiety, Work

Superpowers

6 Comments

Recently, I attended a work conference where we were directed to pick a name from a bowl, then find the person with that name over the course of the conference. We were told to introduce ourselves to our person and share with them what our “superpower” was.

Much internal debate ensued about if the “superpower” was supposed to be directly related to our roles in our workplaces. I landed on that I was “really good” with names and numbers. In that, I believe my brain retains them better than the average bear.

The person who had my name (Lacey) said that is her superpower too, adding that she had a “photographic memory”. Me too, I said. Of course, as I’m returning to my seat, my anxious brain started asking questions about that. Do I really have a “photographic memory”? Was that too much for me to claim? So of course I googled the term and came to the conclusion that no, that is not something I have.

Per Merriam-Webster.com: photographic memory

noun

: an unusual ability to remember things completely and exactly as they were seen, read, etc.

I am good with names and numbers, though. At least 95% of the time, after having met someone once, then seeing them again, say two months later, I will remember their name. And when it comes to numbers, my brain is so weird. I don’t consider myself good at math, but I tell you, I remember dates and phone numbers.

For instance, I can tell you that one of my best friends in middle school, the curly-headed SueEllen, celebrates her birthday on June 5th. I can remember that the landline phone number I had, 20-some odd years ago, was 894-8447. I’m enamored with the number 8, as I’ve written about muchly over the years on this blog. I notice the number 8 everywhere I go; perhaps I’m searching for it subconsiously because it’s the one number that appears over and over again for me when good things happen. Who knows with these things.

I don’t think it’s a stretch either for me to say that you’d be a fool to not include me on your trivia team.

What’s your superpower?

Perhaps you could ponder that question while you enjoy today’s musical offering.

Gratitude, Happiness, Lifestyle, Relaxation, Simplicity, Summer, Words

Lollygagging Season is Here

14 Comments

I love the word “lollygagging”. I don’t know where it came from, but let me Google it to satiate my curiosity.

For me, it means lazing about. Taking one’s own sweet time. Such a luxury when we can do that, right? Just going at our own pace without the pressure of having to get something done in a set amount of time.

Yep, I’m right. It’s akin to dawdling or dilly-dallying (two other words I adore). It’s an Americanism that first appeared around the 1860’s.

From dictionary.com: “To lollygag is to dilly-dally, dawdle, loaf around, or goof off. If you’re lollygagging, you’re wasting time by moving slowly or doing something less important than what you should be (or doing nothing at all).

Lollygag is primarily used in the United States. It is synonymous with the very similar spelled lallygag, but lollygag is more commonly used. Both are very informal.

Example: Coach yelled at Spencer for lollygagging at practice.“

I’m so damn good at doing lollygagging. It’s like a skill of mine. Only it’s not useful-though it could be argued that it’s useful on a personal level in that it calms me. It gives me a sense of peace. Especially if there’s no other human in my midst to disturb my dawdling, lollygagging joy.

My favorite and most natural space in which to lollygag is in the early-ish morning hours while I’m still in bed. I’ve never been one to jump out of bed, ready to rock when the alarm goes off. My body is completely relaxed. I’m by myself (Mr. NOA is a life-long early riser), so I can do a big ‘ol stretch and not push anyone to the floor in the process. Sometimes, my brain is still hanging on to the last images from the dream I just had. The opaque sheers are blowing slightly against the bedroom windows, prompted by the air coming through the floor vent underneath it, as if breathing. The room is quiet and semi-dark. I’m sleepy and beginning to vaguely ponder what the day may have in store for me. I yawn and glance towards the end of the bed, where my beautiful boy Radar is laying and yawning too.

It’s luxurious and blissful and quite possibly my favorite part of the day.

On another (musical) note, let me share with you a song I heard recently for the first time. It is certainly going on my summer playlist to enjoy when we’re out lollygagging on our pontoon.

Ambition, Anxiety, Blogging, Creative Writing, Fun, Inspiration, Life, Overthinking, Personal Growth, Self-Reflection

F is for Fun!

13 Comments

Let me start this post by acknowledging that I haven’t published a single blog post since March. I inadvertently gave myself a bit of a time-out. I’ve been working things out in my head in regards to this writing-out-loud thing called blogging. As an anxious people-pleasing overthinker, I imagine this will continue until the end of time.

I started writing what follows a few weeks ago.

Fun, for me at the moment, is working through the alphabet one little-post-that-may-never-see-the-light-of-day at a time. A self-assigned creative writing exercise, inspired by the “A to Z” blogging challenge. I’m just going at my own pace like the squirtoise I am, and purposefully not overthinking. Just going with the very first word that comes into this brain of mine, starting with the letter “A”.

I am curious, blogger and writing friends, do you also create writing challenges for yourself? If so, please share them with me in the comments!

The one thing that has always compelled me to write is because I find it to be so much fun. Stringing words together that capture how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking about tickles me. It’s a challenge for my brain that lights me up from the inside. And the possibility that someone out there in the universe (or blogosphere at least) might relate to the things I’m saying through my writing fuels me.

In tandem with my A-Z writing game, I’m working out (still, after 7 years of blogging) how important this blog is to me. I think I’ve been giving it more of my mental energy than is wise. When I factor in working (albeit part time), nurturing my personal relationships, taking care of our house and yard, and working on myself (remember, “Growth” is my WOTY and I’m sticking with it), blogging is not my highest priority. Not like it should ever be.

Now, this isn’t me saying “I quit!” by any means. It’s me challenging the rules I have put on myself as an amatuer writer with a blog. Examples: must I publish something every single week? If so, why? So, I may or may not publish something next week.

I leave you with a song that means a lot to me. It has spoken to me since the first time I heard it. As a 57 year-old here on planet Earth in the year 2024 who is perpetually searching for ways to bloom and grow, I find it very inspiring. I hope you do too!