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If I had Saxaphones

I love Jimmy Buffet.  God help me but I do. I”m a hawaiian-shirt-in-flip-flops Parrot Head and proud of it.

I’m late at work tonight, and Jimmy is once again my companion.  I’m singing outloud and shimmying around my office and feeling good about the work I’m doing.  I think I’ve replayed “Saxaphones” about three times already and love it when I get the words right.

Mostly, though, I like how Buffett makes me feel.

Check out his new album, The Buffett Hotel.  It’s got some great tunes and they, too, make me smile, dance and feel like a party is just around the corner.

No New Year’s Resolutions

Today was my turn to write for my company’s blog.  I didn’t want to just do another ‘year in New Years Resolutionsreview’ or ‘here are my resolutions’ post.  In part, because I don’t like to make New Year’s resolutions.  I think it puts too much pressure on myself and on those around me as I draw a line in the sand and say “no more will I …” or “From now on I will …” And I am old enough to know that the line is quickly erased and moved to a location further down the year::”Next Monday I will …” becomes the new mantra.

I finished rereading “A Rule Against Murder last night.  One of the characters is an incredibly wealthy 80-year-old man who is also a suspect in the murder of his daughter-in-l;aw.  Throughout the book there are comments about how we ‘counts’ when sitting on the dock.  With no context, the reader is expected to draw the conclusion, as does the detective, that Finnley is counting his money.     Turns out, Finnley was counting his blessings.   

So this year, I am going to count my blessings. I am going to count those things that made me happy, or made me a better person, or that fulfilled my life in some way. Those things that moved me closer to my goals and those things that surprised me with joy get counted, too. I will count those times when I made a difference; when I helped someone else or gave back to my family, my community and the world. I will count those times I stood up for what I believed in and for those when I didn’t. I will count, too, the things that haven’t worked well, the things I regret, and determine if I can make amends in some way.

 I will likely end up making a resolution or two because it’s the inevitable outcome of examining your life.  At least for me.  I hope they will be as simple as:   Be nice. Have fun. Say I’m sorry when I need to and standup for what I believe in. 

And I will leave you with this thought:

 Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.   — Hal Borland

CEO of Whole Foods gives up chairman title – The Boston Globe

This past summer, I wrote about the insane comments of the CEO of Whole Foods re: healtcare in America.  Today, he resigned.  Why?  As a result of intense pressure from left-leaning customers.

Now how do you like them apples, Mr. Mackey?  Read the story at:

CEO of Whole Foods gives up chairman title – The Boston Globe

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8 Women, College Football, and Jewelry Boxes.

On December 4th, 8 women descended on Sea-Tac Airport for a long weekend in Victoria, BC.   6:00 in the morning comes early, but a few of us (not me) found the bar open and started in with Bloody Mary’s and Tequila shots.   Kathleen stirred up the crowd, “Let’s get this party started.  Let’s get this party started.  Let’s get this party started,” and start it we did.

Mary and I and our Horizon Helpers got a behind-the-scenes tour of the Satellite Concourse S, our wheelchairs zipping in and out of luggage management, catering and the belly of the of the airport.  Somehow (thanks, Kathleen,) news had gotten out that this group of women were of to celebrate my recovery, our decades of friendship and life in general.  The nice man pushing my wheelchair had even more details and knew a little bit more of the challenges and trauma of my surgery.  He politely asked some questions and shared that he is having surgery this month for a cancerous growth on his throat.  He was heartened to hear of my recovery and shared my belief in the miraculous healing power of friendship.   So he became our friend, too.

Aboard the Horizon Air Bombardier Q400, we were about the only passengers on the plane so “Let’s get this party started”

continued and our flight attendants and fellow passengers were not quite sure what was happening, but for the most part, seemed happy to be along for the flight with these crazy Seattle women.  Kalli and Laura were the ‘anchors’ on the plane and had to sit in the very last row.   Our short flight was gorgeous but uneventful and we were soon in Victoria.  Our Limo picked us up and took us to the Delta Ocean Point Resort and Spa.

The hotel is beautiful and the view back across the bay to Victoria is stunning, especially now at Christmas time with Parliament, the Empress Hotel and other historic buildings lit up for the season.  Karen Scott, the concierge who helped us organize the entire weekend gave me an upgrade for my room and all of a sudden, we had “party central’ on the 5th floor .

After a decadent breakfast (no alcohol until 11:00 so we were off the mark on that ) we headed out to Butchart Gardens to enjoy the gardens, eat tea, and laugh some more.  It was bitterly cold but we were determined to find the 12 Days of Christmas displays.  Kathleen was the keeper of the Flip and took her job very seriously, interviewing all of us and taking goofy shots.  I can’t wait to see the CD she’s creating.  Mostly, though, we enjoyed the scenery and being out together in the sun.   Mid-afternoon

we settled in for tea at the Garden’s Tea Room.   We drank tea, of course, and champagne.  We ate tiny sandwiches, warm tarts and chocolate truffles.   And laughter.  I think what I love most about this group of women is that we laugh.  A lot.  Loud, often and with total abandon.

As night fell at Butchart Gardens, the lights came on, locals appeared and a stunning light festival, complete with ice skating and holiday music transformed the Garden.  Old couples, young children, families, lovers and friends all walked through the gardens oohing and aahing at the lights and wonder of it all.  I imagine local families come here year after year as part of their holiday tradition.

Saturday morning the crew is up and out the door to Spa, run, shop and frolic.  Mary and I stayed in our huge suite, knitting, writing cards, and watching football.  The other women went into town, some hitting the sports bar to watch football (Roll Tide!) and others to do some holiday shopping.  About 5:00 my suite turned into Party central with wine and appetizers.  More football as Nebraska locked horns with UT.  Mary’s family is full of Husker Alumni and Laura S is all about Texas, her alma matter.  So the living room was taken over by mad women shouting at the TV, each other, and drinking.    The dining room became the ‘quiet zone’ although not that quiet, really as laughter competed with the football fans in the other room.

About 7:30 we split up and dressed for dinner and gathered again in the bar.

Yes, Virginia, there was a fair amount of drinking going on this weekend.  Our table wasn’t ready yet so we got complimentary Champagne Royale all around.  Kathleen was still in charge of the Flip so who knows what will end up on our “Weekend Away Video”.  I’m a little nervous, to tell you the truth.

Dinner was fabulous.   But mostly, dinner was the time we got to be a little serious and share with one another what our friendships mean, and how fortunate we are to be together.  I love this group of women.  Not just because we laugh a lot, or because we have a lot in common, but because these women are special.  These women are unique.  They know themselves.  They are accomplished in their fields and not one bit arrogant about it.  These women collectively control millions and millions of dollars.  They lead teams and companies.  They drive products to market and ensure children are supported.   And they love each other.    Over dinner we talked about what my illness meant.  And we celebrated.  Some of us shared personal stories.  Some shared cards, small tokens and big thoughts.  And we all got travel-sized Jewelry boxes, because you always have to take your jewels.

Not being home for the holidays.

I love Christmas.  Or so I think.  But when I come to Los Angeles to see my family and friends, it no longer feels like the holiday I love.  There’s no big dinner with mom’s best china, silver and Fostoria (Buttercup pattern, if you please).   No turkey smell creeping up the stairs before we even get to the stockings.  There is no decorating of the tree, no holiday trips to church to sing carols and light candles.  No telling of the Christmas Story.  No last-minute rush to get the turkey out and carved onto the platter.  No pies.

I love the idea of Christmas and the memories are perhaps more embellishment than reality.    Mike and I don’t put up a tree; we don’t decorate at all, except for the annual wreath on the door sent by our dear friends Kim and Rob.    Christmas presents for each other turn into “Hey, look what I bought you for Christmas” and “What do you want me to get you?”  Few presents actually get wrapped and under the non-existent tree.

We don’t make a big dinner.

Christmas, for me, has become a time to stop working for a few days.  It’s a time to make a list of the people I love, and who love me, too.  And next to each name, how I might honor that friendship with a gift or card or call or an email.

Christmas for me, now, is about the extended family dinners.  Laura and Dale have hosted a growing group of friends for many years now.  This year Marissa and Cameron both will be home for the holidays, and Rachelle’s Grandmother, (my honorary Grand Mere, too) will make the trip to Seattle.  At 92, we’re thrilled she is brave enough to make the trip by herself.   The ‘girls’ get together early and play Pinochle, then friends, family and kids join us for dinner.  It’s a wonderful new tradition and it smells and feels like Christmas.

I don’t want to be misunderstood:  I truly relish my time with family and friends in LA.  It’s just that this isn’t Christmas for me.  The home I grew up in is sold.  My Father is not here.  We don’t do big dinners with all the relatives like we did as kids.  Christmas here in LA has moved on, it’s moved past me.  Here was the Christmas of my childhood.  Here were the wonderful, beautiful tables my mother set year after year.

Mike and I have had to find our own way to Christmas.  And now it means something else.  Gifts, cards and a time to stop and tell people how much they mean to us.  And celebration is simply time with friends, no matter what we eat or where it happens.  This year, it’s a quiet dinner with Laura and Garrett on Christmas Day, after visiting with Mike’s mom.  Turkey for sure and pies, and probably a little football (sorry Mike) and some board games.  Maybe Guitar Hero if we’re feeling the vibe.  A post-Christmas party at Laura and Dales with kids from 6 to 92.  And if we’re really lucky, a snowy walk with Rigley through the neighborhood to look at lights and see the stars.

I miss the Christmas of my youth, but what I have now is wonderful, too.