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A criminal background check does not prove that someone is a good person. It only proves they haven't been caught.
Call me a cynic.
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Have you ever really looked at someone's hands? I think they have the potential to tell you a lot about a person. My Dad was a mechanic, and no matter how much he scrubbed, his hands had his job all over them. They always seems to have just a touch of black motor grease. Callouses tell of hard labor, either at work or play...not all labor is bad. I hate to see someone with dirty nails...or broken ones. And I spend a good deal of time in need of repair, as mine are soft and brittle. I dislike seeing chipped polish and therefore do not polish my fingernails. It is just more upkeep than I am comfortable with. I used to think that long fingernails, I mean really long nails, were a sign that someone did not do serious work. I have been proven wrong. Just because I can barely feed myself with them doesn't mean others share my lack of dexterity. What does a manicure say to you about a person? What if that person is indeed a man? Does it speak of his ego, profession or grooming habits? Come now, I don't have all the answers. And lastly and mostly...is there a tell tale sign of a recent ring when someone is denying any romantic entanglements? That ring indention can hang around for awhile...as will a tan line.
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flexible!
sat jan 30 2010
at 10:16 am
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an interesting observation...you can tell a lot about a person by a good look at the hands....also true of feet and posture in general...to truly OBSERVE is a rare and difficult thing...usually when I look at other people I see them through my own mental framework instead of truly observing...if I am not careful that is.. |
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Ignite the Night
sat jan 30 2010
at 11:06 am
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Flexible! All things are perceived through our own mental frame work. That is why we seldom SEE the same thing. |
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flexible!
sun jan 31 2010
at 1:35 am
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oh, I think it is possible to see the world through another person's paradigm but it takes a lot of effort so most people, sadly including myself, don't bother most of the time.. |
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I had a new, and hopefully one time experience, this morning. I dropped my keys down an elevator shaft. It really wasn't very hard. I had stuck my hand out to catch the door, to allow others to catch a ride. My keys slipped from my hand and just dropped right into the gap between the elevator deck and the floor. Bye-bye keys. Luckily, I was on the ground floor, so they didn't have far to go. I made a call and maintenance fetched them. They said it isn't so unusual for items to be lost that way, it's usually cell phones. They come back in pieces.
Just proof that no good deed goes unpunished.
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It's kind of hard to know the exact date of your surprise. It is also hard to relinquish control of your entire day. I took a shower, got dressed...and waited. We went out to lunch. We stopped by the liquor store. All the while, I am wondering what will happen, or I suppose more accurately at that time, WHEN something would happen. Everything I had picked up on, said this was to be an evening event...but you never know when someone is leading you astray. I waited...and waited...and waited. I got a text message that said we needed to be 15 minutes late...so I waited some more. Finally, my husband says it's time to go.
We head out on the Snyder, which is pretty much the way we need to go to get anywhere. Then to I-65 N, again not too much unusualness in that. But then Steve comments how everything looks different at night and he isn't sure where he is going and asks me how to get the the AIRPORT. What??? Airport? My heart has just picked up tempo and the mind has gone into overdrive. Now let me clarify...it is perfectly within the realm of possibility that my husband and friends could/would put me on an airplane. I mentally check my personal inventory...I have ID and a credit card. Steve asks me to direct him to departing flights. I wonder where I am going? I even wondered who I could be meeting on an incoming flight. Alexa? Karen? I point. We don't get over far enough. We circle the airport. We make it to the right lane this time, up the ramp we go and I spot a friend of mine, Kevin, standing out front with my name on a board. I get out of the car and look around...where is everybody? Kevin asks if I have any luggage. Ummm, no. Then Steve opens the trunk, pulls out my backpack and says, "Just an overnight bag." What? How did he snag my backpack without me noticing? I reach for it, wondering what is inside, but Kevin gets it first and tells me not to worry...he will take care of everything. Steve gets back in the car and drives away. Now you may be wondering if my husband would drop me off at the airport and let someone take/put me on an airplane? I think that answer is yes. Now the brain is doing something along this line: Where are my friends that I was expecting to celebrate with? Was Laura asking about my favorite Mexican food a ruse? Steve had slipped, I thought, when he mentioned going to Ginny's on Saturday...another red herring? Where was I going? It couldn't be far...an overnight trip? Chicago perhaps...Kevin and I had talked once about my desire to go to Chicago. It was the only place I could think of that I could go to and come back that quickly. Kevin is talking, in a weird kind of accent, assuring me that everything is taken care of, that he will take care of me. He leads me into the terminal...a bad name for a place where people get onto airplanes. My brain is still doing cartwheels. I realize I am grinning like an idiot while my brain is still trying to connect all the dots. We get on an elevator and go down. At some point I noted that he put a airline tag on my backpack. He has a clipboard with papers on it...airline tickets? We get off the elevator and go up the escalator. My brain slams on the brakes...we went down in the elevator and up on the escalator. It may be doing somersaults but this did not go unnoticed. It's weird when you KNOW people are up to something. You can't assume the obvious is what it appears to be, but it is really hard to ignore what is staring you in the face....like being in the airport. I am still grinning like an idiot...I think. So after going up the escalator, we go out the doors...and wait. OK, I am out of the terminal. I am not going anywhere. Heart slows. Brain readjusts to some normality, if indeed my brain is capable of normality. I think maybe Steve is waiting to pick me up from this adventure into Wonderland. Nope. A van glides up the the curb and my own personal flight attendant (in real life) Laura steps out to help with my luggage and get me securely "on board". Mark, my Captain is at the wheel...this is the second time Mark has impersonated a Pilot with this group. He makes a damn fine looking pilot too. Fits the part perfectly. My luggage is stowed in cargo...no carry on allowed. I still have no idea what is in my backpack, nor does it seem I am likely to find out anytime soon. I get full instructions from my flight attendant on the escape routes and how to fasten my seatbelt. I am also informed that we have no flotation devices. But we'll be traveling at low altitudes. The co-pilot, the GPS, informs us of the route to our destination. The trip is filled with airplane puns and laughter...oh and beverage service.
We arrive at our destination...Ginny's house. There are tiki torches greeting me on my arrival. This is a very odd sight around here in January. I finally get my hands on my backpack...to discover it has a change of clothes and sandals...I am being herded towards the front door where I am greeted with holas and welcomes. I am handed a glass of sangria, appropriately dressed with an umbrella and I am given the grand tour...guest rooms, where I may change my clothing, restaurant and beach.
The beach: 300 lbs of sand spread across the garage floor. Now you have to remember this is January. Last year when we celebrated my birthday outdoors, it was subfreezing. My friends have taken some precautions not to suffer that way again. And the weather has been merciful, it's 50+ degrees outside and the garage is quite comfortable. So there is sand and seashells. There is a wading pool. There is an ocean backdrop. There are palm trees and lounge chairs. It makes me smile.
The food: Laura, a different Laura, is one of the best cooks I know. Also one of the sweetest people. She has put out an amazing spread of Mexican delights. But my favorite, without a doubt, were the plantains. Fried in butter then served with Dulce de Leche sauce. This was a big hit all the way around. There was a queso fountain. There was a punch bowl full of sangria.
I changed into my bright orange skirt that I bought last year in Mexico. Took off the socks and shoes and slipped into my sandals....thankfully I had shaved and recently painted the toenails. We ate, we drank, we played. People dipped in the pool...briefly, the water did not stay warm long. Bare feet danced across sand. We played pin the tail on the jackass...a grown up version of the popular children's party game. It gave us an excuse to blindfold and spin drunk people. We beat a piñata...more spinning, more drunk people, but with a big stick. I had a treasure chest full, of well, treasure. I should also mention that I had my own cabana boys...one of which really got into his role and provided me with much entertainment. We partied the night away.
I can't think of a better way to celebrate getting older...or people I'd rather do it with.
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The beach
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Ignite the Night
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Usually humorous, frequently irreverent, occasionally controversial, rarely important. Best served with a pinch of humor and a dash of skepticism. Stirred, not shaken. Hold the ice.
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