A Matter of Opinion

I must admit that I am easily distracted - often by people, sounds, aromas, or even shiny objects.  When I am fortunate enough to travel, I often risk overlooking places or scenes of historical significance due to my tendency to focus on activity or notations that hover somewhere near my line of sight.  Bless the hearts of those whose patience has been tried by my lagging behind or veering off-path.  Hopefully, an image I've captured along the way speaks to them.  So, for today, this is really real - To those of you speaking through imagery - I am listening and I thank you.

Everyday is Thanksgiving. Sometimes I just forget.

The first time I met Fred, he sang this song in the dark, sitting on the floor of a friend's beach house.  I didn't think anyone in the room had heard it before, judging by the silence when he finished.  But now I know that's exactly the predictable response to every listening.  So, for today, this is really real - "...when I'm with 'em, it's like Thanksgiving..."    And I darn well better act like it.  

Red Socks, Velvet Pants

Second only to L-O-V-E, the four letters RSVP stir the soup of emotion, controversy and opinion like, well, only L-O-V-E can. Cloaked in the veil of polite, and often butchered, French, the tag line on invitations leaves little to interpretation when its origin is examined and literally interpreted.  That is, unless, one is a fan of Chucklevision, a BBC series featuring the comedy of The Chuckle Brothers, Paul and Barry Elliot.  When asked the meaning of RSVP, Paul replies, "Red Socks, Velvet Pants", a perfectly acceptable and logical, and many would agree, correct response.  So, for today, this is really real -Répondez s'il vous plaît to me will mean "to reply, if you please".  But for the record, I'm always up for red socks and velvet pants....

I Must Stand Ready

Surrounded for the past several days by talented folks who have seemingly found their purpose in life - the writing and performing of music - I've been re-reflecting on mine.  Or possibly the lack thereof.  Sure, I can pull off some feats, most moms can.  I credit instinct and motherlove, and do not expect applause for keeping my children's immunizations up to date.  Long ago I flipped the switch in my brain, redirecting the current from music-maker to music-lover and have reveled in that role.  For the most part, within just a few encounters I am referring to new acquaintances as friends, and I hope the reverse is true.  I maintain two automobiles, several small appliances/electronics and change the air filters monthly at a house 425 miles away from my primary residence.  None of these constitute a purpose, but thanks to Conan O'Brien I will sleep well.  So, for today, this is really real - "...if you work hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen".

This has been happening for a long, long time.

Capture a sunset.  Go ahead.  Try.  I know I've committed my share of GB to the goal.  It's my way of hugging the sun goodnight.  So, for today, this is really real - when I watch the sun set, I commune with all those gone before me since the first sunset.  I bet that one was a doozy.

Can I be betrayed by people I don't even know?

I have previously confessed my obsession with photographs, namely mine.  Today, I reenter the confessional booth.  Anyone who knows me, even casually, can testify as to my preoccupation with the purchase of tickets to live music events, and namely the choice seats. To summarize, I like to be close enough to read the set list taped to the floor.  So, when a favorite duo contacted me a few days ago with the promise of a presale that would begin today, I entered the date & time into my ibrain, setting not one, but two, alerts.  Without a thought, at the last minute I dodged an appearance at a meeting, instead playing my preferred one-key instrument, the refresh button. BUT THEY SAID 10 O'CLOCK!!!  No information immediately turned to Sold Out, the most dreaded two words a musicoholic can hear. Nothing to do but tweet my frustrations, relieving 'my' musicians of responsibility, of course, but fulfilling my need to reveal the wrongdoing.  Roughly three hours later, again at my instrument of delight/doom, curiosity led me back to the presale page, where I was informed tickets would be available within the half-hour.   Again, I delayed my appearance without apology, and just to prove I could, purchased three times the number of tickets I would have originally. While I'd love to think that my tweet was directly responsible for the reappearance of the presale opportunity, I'm not that hopeful.  So, for today, this is really real - I am a person who loses most of my sense of reason when it comes to getting what I want, at least when it comes to tickets.   Rodrigo y Gabriela

For today, these are photos of really real people and places.

Copenhagen, Denmark

Before today, my only connection to Copenhagen was thru a mermaid, and a Little one at that.

I entered my kitchen this afternoon to find the soundtrack of many lives, The Oprah Show, already in progress.  The theme today was something along the lines of "The Happiest People on Earth".  For over two-thirds of my lifetime, it has been concluded that the Danes are consistently happier than the rest of the world, 23 ladder-rungs above the United States.  Oprah led us through conversations with lovely, slender, blonde women, touring their clutter-free homes and listening to their proclamations of being paid by the government while receiving free college educations, generous maternity leave, and "...no pressure to marry".  Religion plays little, if any, role in everyday life, while family time receives the highest priority.
Oprah's laser-like focus on her hostess' loaf of Rugbrød (bread), clutching it to her breast and taking it for her own was not accompanied by any explanation of the role of Rugbrød in the residents' happiness.  I did, however, latch on to this probable explanation of Danish delight, presented as if it were a universal truth.  So, for today, this is really real:  Less space, less things, more life.

In My Mind's Time Machine

I have an unnatural connection to photographs and readily admit it borders on consumption.  And I mean 'consumption' in the way the folks crossing the unsettled Great Plains reported that Aunt Gertie was taken by it.  (No, I didn't have a positive TB skin test, just reaching for the dramatic.)  Today some of my digital lifeblood was consumed by a Time Machine gremlin right before my eyes.  Flushed. Poof.  Obliterated. I Won't Be Back.
I continued to inhale and exhale, I did not become flush with alternating icy cold and burning hot, I didn't get that fiery, wrenching feeling in my gut.....in short, nothing changed.
So, for today, this is really real - moments in time may best be captured not by pixels, but by the entire digestion (perhaps consumption?) of the moment, so they may be restored by simply closing my eyes.

Five Words From A Movie

I spent a few hours last night with good friends.  The beginning of our time was spend regaling each other with stories of holiday wows and woes over dinner, followed by the parallel play of watching a movie.  "It's Complicated" has received its' share of thumbs-up/down reviews and even award nominations for some.  Admittedly, I will pre-bless any production featuring the names "Steve" and "Martin" standing next to each other, so I was already thumb in air.  But the gift came when Meryl Streep's character declared the following, "...WOW, fun is not overrated...".  At that point, the price of the ticket and four buck popcorn became a pittance in comparison to the impact those five words left on me.  So, for today, this is really real - Fun will be a worthy, valuable goal, and it's up to me to make it, see it and be it.