kanye west…for president???

OMG!!! Just heard on CNN that Kanye West might be considering a run for the presidency in 2020??? Reality TV in the White House??? The Kardashians taking over Washington D.C.???

That is even more bizarre than Donald Trump as President of the United States.

Just because we can…all run for president…does it mean we should? 

Tea Party conservatism has dragged in all manner of folks thinking they know what our country needs. Forget the need for wisdom and self-control and experience.

For Heaven’s sake! If I had the energy…I could be President!

Not!!! I know my limitations and strengths. Managing the President’s “to do” list sure as heck isn’t something I’m up for.

What makes Kanye West think he can…interface with our military hierarchy?…world leaders twice or three times his age?…Wall Street financiers?…white constituents who hate black rappers?…and most of all, Tea-Party congressional reps who’d just as soon impeach him, as recognize that he is the executive branch.

Talk about a political stalemate!!!

And who, besides the Kardashian fans…many in other countries, would want to see those women parading around half-naked in the White House? Moreover, it doesn’t seem likely they’d give up their millions as reality TV stars to sit around twiddling their thumbs. I can’t see them volunteering to mingle with the underprivileged at homeless shelters. The sisters would stand out in their stilettos and bouffant hairdos.

The fact that sex is a huge part of the Kardashian brand won’t sit well with conservative evangelists, either.  Come to think of it, neither would liberals with good, old-fashioned values. 

Between Kanye West’s ego and Kris Jenner’s managerial skills, I’ve no doubt they’re thinking seriously about the presidency. After all, Donald Trump is just as qualified. 

Reality TV and real life…

…are they really one and the same???


zealots in congress…

Zealot…”a person who has very strong feelings about something (such as religion or politics) and who wants other people to have those feelings…”

That’s what Webster’s dictionary defines as those who are running away with the Republican Party…and trying to do the same with our government.

Our government. Not their government. Not the president’s government. 

A coming together of contrasting ideologies for the good of all…not for the good of a handful.

Where I might have entertained the idea of a Republican president, Boehner’s resignation as Speaker of the House cemented my vote for a Democratic president. Second in line for the presidency, Boehner, the most powerful Republican according to the constitution…if he has no faith in the Republicans…why should I?

By his action, Boehner voted against his own party. I cast my vote with him…

…i’m sure i’m not alone.



trump…and the pope

What do these men have in common? Not much it would seem.

Trump is about Trump. Pope Francis is about others.

Trump lives like a king, isolated in his own tower. Pope Francis lives in apartment #201 at the Vatican Hotel…so he can be closer to the people.

Trump seeks the presidency so he can, as he tells it…single-handedly return America to its glory days. Pope Francis agreed to forgo retirement so that he could shepherd world citizens to do what we can for the less fortunate among us.

Perhaps the Pope’s message of inclusion will resonate with those seeking the presidency. We can only pray that those who call themselves Christians, are, in fact, Christ-like.

The Pope’s words spoken during the homily at the Mass canonizing Junipero Sera to sainthood…

Rejoice in the Lord always! I say it again, rejoice! These are striking words, words which impact our lives. Paul tells us to rejoice; he practically orders us to rejoice. This command resonates with the desire we all have for a fulfilling life, a meaningful life, a joyful life. It is as if Paul could hear what each one of us is thinking in his or her heart and to voice what we are feeling, what we are experiencing. Something deep within us invites us to rejoice and tells us not to settle for placebos which simply keep us comfortable.

At the same time, though, we all know the struggles of everyday life. So much seems to stand in the way of this invitation to rejoice. Our daily routine can often lead us to a kind of glum apathy which gradually becomes a habit, with a fatal consequence: our hearts grow numb.

We don’t want apathy to guide our lives… or do we? We don’t want the force of habit to rule our life… or do we? So we ought to ask ourselves: What can we do to keep our heart from growing numb, becoming anesthetized? How do we make the joy of the Gospel increase and take deeper root in our lives?

Jesus gives the answer. He said to his disciples then and he says it to us now: Go forth! Proclaim! The joy of the Gospel is something to be experienced, something to be known and lived only through giving it away, through giving ourselves away.

The spirit of the world tells us to be like everyone else, to settle for what comes easy. Faced with this human way of thinking, “we must regain the conviction that we need one another, that we have a shared responsibility for others and for the world” (Laudato Si’, 229). It is the responsibility to proclaim the message of Jesus. For the source of our joy is “an endless desire to show mercy, the fruit of our own experience of the power of the Father’s infinite mercy” (Evangelii Gaudium, 24). Go out to all, proclaim by anointing and anoint by proclaiming. This is what the Lord tells us today. He tells us:

A Christian experiences joy in following a command: Go forth and proclaim the good news! A Christian finds ever new joy in answering a call: Go forth and anoint!

Jesus sends his disciples out to all nations. To every people. We too were part of all those people of two thousand years ago. Jesus did not provide a short list of who is, or is not, worthy of receiving his message, his presence. Instead, he always embraced life as he saw it. In faces of pain, hunger, sickness and sin. In faces of wounds, of thirst, of weariness, doubt and pity. Far from expecting a pretty life, smartly-dressed and neatly groomed, he embraced life as he found it. It made no difference whether it was dirty, unkempt, broken. Jesus said: Go out and tell the good news to everyone. Go out and in my name embrace life as it is, and not as you think it should be. Go out to the highways and byways, go out to tell the good news fearlessly, without prejudice, without superiority, without condescension, to all those who have lost the joy of living. Go out to proclaim the merciful embrace of the Father. Go out to those who are burdened by pain and failure, who feel that their lives are empty, and proclaim the folly of a loving Father who wants to anoint them with the oil of hope, the oil of salvation. Go out to proclaim the good news that error, deceitful illusions and falsehoods do not have the last word in a person’s life. Go out with the ointment which soothes wounds and heals hearts.

Mission is never the fruit of a perfectly planned program or a well-organized manual. Mission is always the fruit of a life which knows what it is to be found and healed, encountered and forgiven. Mission is born of a constant experience of God’s merciful anointing.

The Church, the holy People of God, treads the dust-laden paths of history, so often traversed by conflict, injustice and violence, in order to encounter her children, our brothers and sisters. The holy and faithful People of God are not afraid of losing their way; they are afraid of becoming self-enclosed, frozen into élites, clinging to their own security. They know that self-enclosure, in all the many forms it takes, is the cause of so much apathy.

So let us go out, let us go forth to offer everyone the life of Jesus Christ (Evangelii Gaudium, 49). The People of God can embrace everyone because we are the disciples of the One who knelt before his own to wash their feet (ibid., 24).

The reason we are here today is that many other people wanted to respond to that call. They believed that “life grows by being given away, and it weakens in isolation and comfort” (Aparecida Document, 360). We are heirs to the bold missionary spirit of so many men and women who preferred not to be “shut up within structures which give us a false sense of security… within habits which make us feel safe, while at our door people are starving” (Evangelii Gaudium, 49). We are indebted to a tradition, a chain of witnesses who have made it possible for the good news of the Gospel to be, in every generation, both “good” and “news”.

Today we remember one of those witnesses who testified to the joy of the Gospel in these lands, Father Junípero Serra. He was the embodiment of “a Church which goes forth”, a Church which sets out to bring everywhere the reconciling tenderness of God. Junípero Serra left his native land and its way of life. He was excited about blazing trails, going forth to meet many people, learning and valuing their particular customs and ways of life. He learned how to bring to birth and nurture God’s life in the faces of everyone he met; he made them his brothers and sisters. Junípero sought to defend the dignity of the native community, to protect it from those who had mistreated and abused it. Mistreatment and wrongs which today still trouble us, especially because of the hurt which they cause in the lives of many people.

Father Serra had a motto which inspired his life and work, a saying he lived his life by: siempre adelante! Keep moving forward! For him, this was the way to continue experiencing the joy of the Gospel, to keep his heart from growing numb, from being anesthetized. He kept moving forward, because the Lord was waiting. He kept going, because his brothers and sisters were waiting. He kept going forward to the end of his life. Today, like him, may we be able to say: Forward! Let’s keep moving forward!

…words inspiring us to act with mercy and compassion.


a man…a saint

As I drifted off to sleep last night, I prayed for Pope Francis. Image result for pope francis gallery

Not someone I normally think of when I pray.

I had real concerns for the Pope’s safety…still do…as he rides amidst thousands gathered to see him. There’s no way of knowing whether or not there’s a gunman among them. 

Even the Pope needs our prayers. Like us, he’s made of flesh and blood. At 78, Pope Francis has limited stamina and energy. His crusade to alter the plight of the world’s poor is a task not even Bill Gates and Warren Buffet can fully accomplish with all their billions. And yet the Holy Father is like the fountain of youth, offering life to all in need…physically and spiritually.

I can’t recall another world leader, past or present, so aligned with the downtrodden. A humble man where his needs are concerned, Pope Francis is nonetheless outspoken when promoting the causes of the less fortunate. Using his powerful platform as the head of the Catholic church, the pontiff runs the risk of incurring the wrath of those who disagree with his beliefs. It matters not to him. He is about God’s work.

Just as Jesus Christ was about His Father’s work…for which the Son was crucified…and subsequently rose again in glory, to sit beside His Father.

I believe one day, Pope Francis will be canonized a saint. Yet I’m sure many agree that he walks among us today…

…already a saint.


Image result for pope francis gallery

…celebrity…at what cost…

Watching the Pope disembark from his flight today at Joint Base Andrews, it was as though God Himself was walking down the steps. At least to Catholics who believe that he is God’s emissary on earth. Dressed in white, Pope Francis seemed translucent, although he appeared like a man who enjoys good food. He seemed untouchable, although he’s a man who enjoys being touched.

What a dilemma for Pope Francis. While waiting for the chauffeur to drive away, the Pope looked as though he were about to bolt from his seat. The cries of the people behind the fence tempting him to do what he loves doing…walking among them…touching them and having them touch him.

Celebrity? At what cost?

The tabloids are filled with stories of entertainers trying to escape the clutches of their adoring fans. Those who jostle their idol for some tangible proof that they were up close and personal.

Michael Jackson tried to give his fans what they wanted…access to him. Sadly, there were opportunists who took advantage of Jackson’s desire to be loved. He paid dearly. One could say…with his life.

Elvis Presley enjoyed his celebrity. It provided unimaginable wealth which he could never have dreamed of…growing up like White trash on the wrong side of the tracks. He, like Jackson, allowed fans access. Whether it was a wise decision, is something you can judge for yourself. Numerous books have been penned about Elvis by those who had access to the icon.

If I were to meet Pope Francis, I would automatically reach out to hug him. That’s just my natural inclination, unless I feel the recipient would prefer I not. I think the Pope would reciprocate my hug, but I’m not sure his security detail would even let me. Those charged with protecting the Pontiff are on high alert to protect him from all harm. And no one can blame them.

The Pope realizes that allowing his followers access might cost him his life. He is willing to take that risk. He has said…”I feel the Lord has placed me here for a short time.”

Yes, Pope Francis is a celebrity…the state of being famous or celebrated (according to Webster’s Dictionary). However it’s unlikely that the pope considers himself a celebrity. He is what he has always been…

…a man among his people…

…a pastor shepherding his flock.


what i did this summer…

Remember those essays we had to write the first day back to school?

How I spent my summer vacation.

I probably wrote that I played with friends and helped my mom around the house. Apart from that I went to an occasional movie with my best friend, gratis her awesome dad who’d pay the price of my admission…a quarter. Yep. A quarter. Back then…the 50’s and early 60’s…we could see a news reel, a cartoon, and a feature film for twenty-five pennies. On Maui, at least. Not sure what mainland theaters were charging.

Our family wasn’t rolling in dough so there were no trips to California, New York, or Europe. Those places weren’t even on my radar. The most I could hope for was a short trip to nearby Honolulu on a propeller plane. That’s if my older sister paid for my round trip ticket, inviting me to visit for the summer.

It shouldn’t be difficult to figure out that my world view was pretty narrow…that of an island girl out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Fortunately, that all changed when I got married.

My husband’s first job was with Pan American World Airways, so we honeymooned in Tahiti. His second job was with American Express, with whom he got a promotion which moved us to New York. A short couple of years later he joined Norwegian American Cruises…and the rest is travel history.

Our first trip to Europe was in the 80’s. This time it was on me, since I was working with TWA in New York. It included a quick 2-day glimpse of Paris. Years later when our daughter was a teen, I dreamed of returning to that glamorous city with her in tow. I knew she’d never be able to afford it on her dancer’s salary.

This summer my dream trip to Paris came true. Except that my daughter had to work. No whisking her off to Europe. So instead it became…a second honeymoon for hubby and me.

While not the romantic scenario acted out in movies by the likes of Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, hubby and I managed just fine for a middle-aged couple. We held hands. We looked lovingly into one another’s eyes. We teased and bantered, sharing intimate jokes at which only the two of us could smile and chuckle.

And yes, there were moments of frustration. When we got on each other’s last nerve.

Like when we went in search of Rodin’s Museum and Napoleon’s Tomb, and instead found ourselves wandering the streets in an isolated industrial neighborhood, while my poor aching feet screamed…”Get off of me! You’re killing me!” And when we had to go in search of the nearest “toilette,” so I could pee for the hundredth time.

Dead tired from scouring every corner of Paris we would fall into bed early. No evening soirees for us. No moonlit boat rides on the Seine . No gazing into each others’ eyes while dining on squab and chocolate souffles. We were content with a simple meal, an I Love Lucy video we’d brought from home, and finally snuggling side by side, snoring contentedly beneath a fluffy, white duvet…the nearby Eiffel Tower keeping watch over all, and lighting the skies above.

Funny what rocks your world when you’re old.

My favorite tour was wandering amidst miles and miles of tombstones at the Pere La Chaise Cemetery.

(Photo courtesy of…ohbythewayblog.blogspot.com)

Morbid? Just the opposite! It was other-worldly. Seeing row upon row of oft-times centuries-old graves. It was as though, those poor, deceased souls were sneaking glimpses of us…as we were having a peek in on them. With my cell phone I snapped photos of such notables’ tombs as Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, Sarah Bernhardt, Chopin, and Gertrude Stein. Even Jim Morrison of the rock group, The Doors, was interned there. I was especially delighted to see the simple graves of actors Yves Montand and wife Simone Signoret. They had been larger than life on the big screen. Now they lay like common folk beneath the hard earth.

Especially sobering were the graves of those who had suffered under Hitler’s demonic regime. I could still feel their wretched agony, pulsating beneath the stone.


(Photo courtesy of…cemetery explorers. blogspot.com)

I could hear my mom lecturing from her grave…”Don’t be taking pictures of the dead. They’ll haunt you. Wait and see.” Dismissing such thoughts, as best I could, I’d remark to myself…and yet loud enough so the dead could hear…”You’re a good person. I’m just honoring you, your memory.” Of course I didn’t wait for a response as I quickened my pace.

One particular tombstone stopped me dead…pardon the pun…in my tracks.

The image of a young man from the Victorian era…captured in bronze, dressed as though he’d been out and about, leather gloves and all…lay full length across his grave. He looked to be 6 feet tall. I kept staring in disbelief at the gorgeous hunk of cast stone. My eyes scoured every inch of him, hesitating where his crotch bulged…the only part not green from oxidation. Curious…

(Photo courtesy of…canvasoflight.com)

I was certain mine weren’t the only eyes bewildered by what lay before me. I’d had to wait my turn while a couple of men gazed down at what seemed a very unexpected and highly unusual tombstone. I admit I was afraid of taking a photo of the dead man’s likeness. Looking at him through the lens, I thought he’d wink…or frown…or sit up and smack me. I admit, I was a tiny bit scared. Calming my fears, I turned to the inscription and quickly snapped a shot.

That night in the comfort of our rented apartment, I looked through the photos I’d taken. I paused at the image of the young man made of bronze. He continued to fascinate me. When I moved on to the snapshot of the inscription, I held my breath. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? How could the inscription be upside down? I was positive I’d not turned my cell phone around to take the picture. That would’ve been awkward. There must have been a good explanation, although neither my husband nor I could come up with one.

I was spooked. I could not look at the picture of the inscription again, without feeling as though a ghostly urchin was having fun at my expense. I almost believed my mom’s scolding that I would pay for disrespecting the dead. Almost. I finally convinced myself that whoever had commissioned the sculpture deliberately requested that the inscription…in French…be written upside down. After all, it seemed in keeping with the provocative tomb. Perhaps it was done so the deceased could read what it said without too much effort on his part. He could just…sit up.

Aaahhh, Paris…all of its sights and smells, large and small, grandiose and humble…captures the essence of European culture. Refined and earthy all at once. Grounded in centuries of history, yet comfortable in its modernity..

I left with a deep respect for people different from me. Folks at ease in their daily lives. In fact, I marveled at how easily Parisians worked and relaxed throughout the day. They don’t seem to subscribe to our American need to work 60-hour weeks, playing only on weekends, if even that. As we toured the city, we saw, and heard, many a Parisian bicycling, and lunching, along the Seine. They sat at nearby cafe tables, sipping wine and conversing as tour buses and motorcycles whizzed by.

Yet I was glad to be home, settling back into our normal life…resuming our normal routines…comforted by our cozy, familiar surroundings.

We’re no different from Dorothy, who preferred Kansas to Oz…

…there really is…no place like home.


(Note: I will post my own photos of Paris…as soon as I figure out how to upload them from my cell phone. I couldn’t wait until then to write about it. Something I already know how to do.)

…the world according to..

…Donald Trump.

Trump paint’s the world around him with broad strokes. Just as he employees hundreds of Hispanics, Trump has lots of Muslim friends. However when asked specifically about derogatory statements he’s spouted…claiming Mexicans are “rapists and murderers,”…and agreeing with the birthers that Obama was not born in America…Trump refuses to acknowledge his stupidity.

Trump is like a blind man painting the world as he “sees” it. Not that the handicapped are incapable of creating beauty from seemingly nothing, it’s only that Trump is an ignoramus. He refuses to see what’s right there in front of him. He chooses to pick and choose what he sees…and ignores all the rest.

So where do the rest of us fit into Trump’s purview of the world?

Obviously we’re all dummies to Trump. Those of us who believe the authenticity of Obama’s birth certificate, and those of us who believe in the goodness of individuals, refusing to lump them all together within an ethnic group.

And why doesn’t Trump counter the extremists among his own followers? Those who hate that the President is a black man, and worse that his name is proof-positive (to them) that Obama is Muslim. It’s because Trump, a supposed sophisticated man of the world, really is an uneducated bumpkin at heart. If not for his wealthy trappings, he would just as easily fit in with the right-wing element of the Republican Party who want to be left alone and have nothing to do with a society that believes we are all one people.

Donald Trump has a lot to say…much of it off the cuff. Whatever goes on in his head seems totally preoccupied with dollar signs and self-promotion. He does NOT represent Americans……me, most of all. So I wish he’d stop saying he’s what Americans want. He’s what a small minority wants. Thank goodness the majority of us sees the world…

…as it is.


…a man at peace…with himself…

It could be said that President Obama is as unpopular these days as Donald Trump.

Where Trump spews volumes of empty words, Obama speaks only when he has something important to say. Both are equally bad in the minds of some.

There’s no doubt that Trump is an egomaniac. I’m sure The Donald himself would agree…and wholeheartedly. Some say Obama is just as arrogant, holing himself up in the White House, unwilling to glad hand Congress in order to wheel and deal.

Trump uses the media, as does Obama. Don’t all folks who find themselves in the glaring spotlight of 24/7 coverage?

It’s said the back story makes the person. Trump, the real estate prodigy with NYC in his veins. Obama, the interracial child nuanced in the ways of a tropical paradise. Both, strangers to main stream USA.

Trump, in his own convoluted way, is convinced he is what America needs. So too did Obama feel the need to bring Americans together for the good of the entire country. Just as the President fell short of the mark, so too would Donald Trump. Neither man can be all things to all people.

I didn’t expect much of Obama when he took office. I was just happy to see what I thought was a good man, occupy the White House. The fact that he was raised in Hawaii, where I was born, gave me hope that the Aloha Spirit could spread to all Americans. And maybe that’s what he thought too. Islanders can be naive that way. After all, we’ve not the sophistication of mainlanders who have experienced more of everything.

The fact that Obama was the first black president was a plus. How nice, I thought, to have someone other than a white man in charge of our country.

That Obama was an academic, was even more appealing. Finally! A thinking man. A man disinclined to pull the trigger first, and ask questions later. Of course that hasn’t sat well with the trigger-happy, gun-toting bullies who want our country back up on the pedestal, our God-given right in their eyes.

For me it’s enough that Obama has accomplished what he has…saved the country from fiscal armageddon…brought a halt to health insurances denying coverage to those with pre-conditions…returned the country’s focus to the need for quality education…rid the world of Osama bin Laden…made it possible for gay partners to legally unite…resisted the clamor to send our sons and daughters, husbands and wives, into harm’s way yet again.

Yes, it’s more than likely that the future president should be a glad-hander…a back-slapper…a social drinker…someone more akin to Bill Clinton, who refused to accept that he couldn’t make friends with his enemies. Next time around, I’ll probably vote for a person who’s a schmoozer, even though I’m not crazy about having to do it too much myself. But I’m not running for president.

What I am crazy about is my family…my husband and my daughter. And it’s obvious to me that Obama shares the same craziness for his wife and two daughters. Barring a national emergency, he has dinner at 6:30 every evening with his family. More importantly, he’s moral. Michelle is still the the love of his life…and his children remain uppermost in his thoughts.

Recently I wrote the President a letter thanking him for Obamacare. I explained that earlier in the year my daughter, who dances as an independent contractor, had had a surgery to repair a tear in her bowel wall, inflicted during a prior surgery to remove fibroids from her uterine wall. Thanks to the surgeon correcting the mistake, my daughter recovered completely. Unfortunately she was saddled with medical expenses in excess of $52,000 and unable to work for a couple of months. That meant no money coming in. Thank goodness she had obtained insurance coverage only 6 months before. It paid $49,000 of her $50,000 hospital bill.

I was surprised, and impressed, to receive a letter in return. While I’m certain it wasn’t penned by President Obama, I’m almost positive the signature is his. And even if it isn’t, my words of gratitude were acknowledged.

Politically, I’m only a constituent. Personally, however, Obama and I are “ohana,” having both grown up under the same rainbow in our beloved…

…hawaiian islands.


nurturing thursdays: she’s getting married…

…my daughter…my only sunshine.

How did my little girl go from shadowing me one minute…to standing apart, aglow in a life all her own?

I can remember hearing folks in my mom’s generation saying of children…”Enjoy them while you can. They grow up so fast.” I too say that to young parents now, more out of habit than something to which I truly subscribe.

I think my husband would have preferred carrying his little “pumpkin pie” about on his shoulders…just a little longer. And building igloos together with her in the icy snow that covered our front lawn…just a little longer. And reading bedtime stories in the soft glow of the lamplight, her little head against his chest…just a little longer.

As for me? I wanted tomorrow to come…and the one after that…and the one after that…and all the tomorrows to follow . I wanted time to pass, knowing that with each passing year my only child was still here, beside me. Not until my husband and I celebrated 16 years of marriage did we become parents. Because of that I always felt she could be gone…in the blink of an eye.

Still do.

Like other parents, I hoped I’d live to see my daughter grow into adulthood…and settle into a marriage with someone who would cherish her for the wonderful person she is. Whether or not she bears us a grandchild is unimportant. She, and the son we gain through marriage, are gift enough for us. Of course we would celebrate a little addition to the family…if that is God’s wish.

And so with my daughter’s marriage, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief, passing the torch of all-consuming love along to her husband-to-be. Although the love I bear my daughter will always glimmer and burn so that she will never, ever...be afraid of the dark.

I’m certain my precious little girl will always remember what I told her long, long ago.

When I’m gone from your side, I’ll still be with you…like a blankie wrapped around your heart…warming you always.


Check out more inspirational writings at… 


…not just my opinion…

Folks younger than me, some even decades my junior, agree that Donald Trump would make a very bad president. I’d go so far as to say they consider him totally laughable in his quest to become the most powerful man on earth.

The fact that Trump is worth billions, according to him, seems his primary, if not only, reason for assuming he’s the perfect man for the job.

Mark Cuban, one of the wealthy entrepeneurs starring on TV’s reality show The Shark Tank explains why Trump is a “fake” billionaire in the youtube video below.

Trump’s net worth is north of 10 billion dollars, or so he says. However according to Cuban, Trump hasn’t got the cash to fund a presidential campaign. And after getting singed by numerous business bankruptcies, he’s not likely to trade in his personal stash to become our public servant, especially for a paltry presidential paycheck of $400,000 a year.

As we all know, going after the highest office in the land isn’t like getting elected high school class president. Money talks. Literally.

Look at what the networks are charging for ads…absurd figures like $3.5 million for a spot during the 2011 Super Bowl. Even 30-second spots on less visible programs cost in excess of $100,000 in 2011, according to AdWeek. It stands to reason that those costs have only escalated since then.

And with Trump bragging about his billions, who’s going to rush to give him more money?

The young woman in this youtube video and I have one thing in common…

…we can see past Trump’s giant-sized ego to the peaNUT he really is.


…i’m impressed…

…with Carly Fiorina.

Like millions, I was tuned in to the Republican presidential debates yesterday. Although I’m an Independent, I tend to align myself with the Democrats. Nevertheless, I can be swayed to vote Conservative if I’m persuaded. And I might just be when I vote for the President of the United States in 2016.

Hillary Clinton, although experienced and smart, is packaged wrong. And I’m not referring to her looks. There’s something about her that’s unappealing. She talks and talks and talks. I wish she could be more succinct, like Fiorina. Unlike Clinton’s voice, which at times sounds whiny, Fiorina’s sounds strong and commanding. She got my attention yesterday. I wanted to hear what she had to say. In fact hers was the only voice I did want to hear.

The men all sounded alike…droning on and on without really capturing my attention. Yes, like most others watching I’m sure, I did stop to hear what Trump had to say. However it was only to see what else he got wrong. Listening to him was like listening to girlfriends vent…without really contributing substantively to the political conversation. Anyone can say…”I think I’d get along well with Putin” or “There aren’t many who would know the names of the leaders of the Islamic militant groups” or “I’d build a big wall.”

Someone asking for my presidential vote has got to be able to “talk the talk, and walk the walk.” In my opinion, Trump neither talks presidential, nor walks presidential.

Of course the CNN pundits were off and running today, picking apart every word, every nuance, every gesture of each Republican running for president. A nice position to be in…getting paid, handsomely I might add…to give a blow by blow commentary of the battle being waged among those committed to serving their constituents. Can you tell? I’m not a huge fan of the mainstream media.

Marco Rubio and Lindsay Graham seemed to edge out their competitors, according to the pundits. Rubio, because he was able to remain focused upon his own experiences, both personal and professional. Graham, because he never wavered in his commitment to wage a ground war on Isis were he to become president. I wouldn’t vote for either man. Rubio, because he would represent his constituency to the exclusion of those not politically aligned with him. That would exclude me. Graham, because he is so backward thinking. What worked in the past, probably won’t work in the future. And waging war in Syria would probably involve Russia, which could mean we’d finally have ourselves a Third World War. Now that would be hitting the reset button…big time. With Mother Nature already waging war on us…we might never recover.

I agree with the pundits that New Jersey’s Governer Christie probably “shot himself in the foot” over the bridge incident. According to Wikipedia…

The Fort Lee lane closure scandal, also known as the George Washington Bridge lane closure scandal, Bridgegate,[1][2] or Bridgeghazi, is a U.S.political scandal in which a staff member and political appointees of New Jersey GovernorChris Christie colluded to create traffic jams in Fort Lee, New Jersey by closing lanes at the toll plaza[3][4] to the George Washington Bridge.[5]

I’m sure it also didn’t help when he was caught canoodling with Democratic Obama during the president’s visit to survey the damage wrought upon Christie’s state by Hurricane Sandy.

Former Governor Jeb Bush, not as colorful as his brother, the former president, will also not get my vote. And if I remember correctly, I voted for George W…twice! What was I thinking? Most likely Bush’s cowboy persona got everyone with his ” let’s hog tie ’em and shoot ’em up” mentality. And we’re still paying for it in Iraq. By comparison, Jeb has zero persona. None. Zilch. I think he’s a nice guy, especially when he tried to get Trump to apologize to Columba about the nastiness he directed her way. But as Trump later said…Jeb didn’t continue to press Trump for an apology. The request just kind of…dissipated. So how would Jeb deal with Putin? I wouldn’t want to find out.

Dr. Carson. A nice, intelligent-sounding man. Seems he might be better at schmoozing with Congress than Obama, who has no stomach or skill for it. I liked Carson, but I wouldn’t vote for him either. He’s too laid back for me. Too easy-going to be President of the most powerful country in the world. I couldn’t see him making split second decisions, like taking out Osama bin Laden as Obama did.

President Fiorina. Has a nice ring to it. I’ll just have to hone up on her background. Now that would be a debate for which the entire world would come to a standstill.

Fiorina vs. Clinton.

And in my humble opinion, either one would be a worthy contender to become…

…president of the united states!


tea party candidate…

Donald Trump! 

Kind of sad that so-called Tea-Partiers pledge their blind allegiance to billionaires like Trump and the Koch brothers, David and Charles. Their followers are like sleep walkers dreaming of the fabled Garden of Eden. There where a little elbow grease will reap bounteous rewards with very little, if any, help from outsiders.

Yes, Trump speaks PLAIN in a voice loud enough to be heard the world over. It’s also obvious that his world view is just as plain… it’s either black or white, right or wrong, you’re with me or you’re not, it’s my way or the highway. Only followers who cater to Trump’s every whim will have his ear…and only for as long as the Donald is entertained.

Sarah Palin was just the appetizer in the race to be President of the United States. In Donald Trump the Tea Party has found the main course. It’s a marriage made in heaven. Tea Party heaven.

Just as Palin remained true to her dumb self, where politics and geography…she claimed she could see Russia from Alaska…were concerned, Trump will stay true to his bullying self. Rather than debate the facts in tomorrow night’s Republican presidential debate, he will talk and talk and talk about how great he is and how stupid everyone else is. He’s obviously getting away with such grandstanding, owing in large part to his Tea Party following. On the world stage, however, neither Putin nor Isis militants will be overly impressed with someone who epitomizes everything that’s wrong with America. 

Like it or not, the Tea Party is slowly digesting what remains of the Republican Party. And Trump is…

…the final belch.


living her best life: #57…pat’s new normal

Just the other day someone asked how my sister-in-law Pat was doing after her recent stem cell transplant at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. It reminded me that I’d not posted about her ongoing battle with multiple myeloma and amyloidosis in some time.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her, it’s just that I’d not been posting anything in quite some time. When I sit down at my laptop for any extended period, I tend to lose track of time and forget about everything else. In deciding to see to other areas of my life, I’ve resisted my passion…to just write.

Pat is doing well. She’s not perfect, but she’s on track…feeling healthy and looking forward to what each day brings. She’s returned to work. Yes! She’s back at work. She’s eating as best she can, given that her molars were extracted. From a photo she texted me a week or so ago, Pat’s smiling broadly. And best of all, her sense of humor is still intact.

When I asked if she wanted to reflect upon her time in Minnesota, Pat replied…

I haven’t really reflected yet on everything I went through at Mayo. Part of me doesn’t want to relive it and the other part thinks “Oh. That’s old news. I’m looking more toward the future…the uncertainty of it is a little scary so it’s still a challenge. I’m thinking of going back to work next month…I wish I could just retire and know that everything will be fine. On the other hand work keeps my mind sharp and occupied.

A week later, she wrote…

We are all doing good here…keeping an eye on the approaching hurricane. I’m feeling stronger every day and am planning to go back to work on Tuesday. I figured out the best time of day to take my meds to optimize how I feel during the day. I just have to remember to be careful in crowds and stay away from sick people. I’m back to “I don’t feel sick” which is good, but I have to remind myself that I’m not in the clear yet.

What’s next for Pat? 

As I understand it, she’s looking forward to the 100th day-post-stem cell transplant…and what it brings. She won’t need to return to the Mayo Clinic, instead she will meet with her own physician in Hawaii. Meanwhile she will be on one medication til then, and at least two others for the next year.

Once she left Rochester and the Mayo Clinic back in August, Pat and Brad spent a few days in Duluth, Minnesota, before heading to Minneapolis where they caught their flight home.

We are enjoying ourselves in Duluth right now. From our room we can watch huge ships roll in night and day…it’s pretty amazing. Lake Superior is pretty cool too. If I didn’t know better I’d think it was the Atlantic Ocean. Being here is therapeutic, nice bright room, lots of sunshine and a body of water that reminds us of home. We’re staying one extra day here.

We are in Minneapolis now…big city…long gone are the fields and fields of corn. Duluth was very therapeutic and I’m glad we went there. Now that we’re in the city we have the opportunity to go to concerts or shows but I don’t think I’m up for that. Theaters and shopping are close by and we are near Target Center (basketball arena?) and where the new stadium for the Vikings is being built. Neither team has anything going on…thought we would catch a ball game or football training camp practice. Well I’m really ready to go home…the sisters and my mom-in-law are going over on Saturday to clean. Julie’s also going to clean out my fridge and do a little shopping for me. I also asked if Dennis could make some pork with squash…yes, my appetite is back full force but my tongue is still swollen so sticking with soft foods and lots of soups.

So “How’s Pat doing?” Well, she could be better. She’d probably prefer it if she could revert back to her old normal. Yet that’s not how my sister-in-law operates. Pat pretty much goes with what’s on her plate. She’s acclimating to what’s been dished up without a whole lot of whining and complaining. It could be her island mentality…her Catholic upbringing…being the youngest of twelve..the mother of two teenage boys…or having awesome parents as role models. It’s more likely a combination of all these factors.

All I know is Pat’s become my role model.

Life is about change, good or bad. Better to accept that as fact and work with what we’re dealt at any given time. None of us can go back to the old normal. It’s always being tweaked…by us or by fate. We can make life good…or we can make life hell. It’s up to us.

I count myself lucky to have someone in my life to show me how it’s done.

…thanks, pat.


the law is…the law

Kim Davis has refused to issue marriage licenses to gay couples. It goes against her religious beliefs, or so she says. She has her supporters. They who are on hand as she is released from prison having been incarcerated for 4 days for refusing to abide by federal law. Included among them are Governor Mike Huckabee and his wife.

How is it that Davis…a several times divorcee …with a child borne out of wedlock…can set herself apart from those who want to wed someone of the same gender?

“Those who live in glass houses…shouldn’t throw stones.”

Calling upon God when it’s convenient is one’s own business…except when one is paid to do a job, especially one that is mandated by law. If a person chooses to ignore that law, then she or he should seek employment elsewhere.

Laws are enacted to ensure all citizens work within their confines for the good of society. Until they were allowed to wed legally, gay couples sought other avenues to commit themselves to one another. They worked long and hard to have the law changed so that they now enjoy the same rights as their heterosexual counterparts. Opponents to the law should consider working just as hard and long to have it reversed. Until it is, the law allowing gay couples the right to wed should be honored.

It seems Davis will be allowed to return to her job as long as others on her staff issue marriage licenses to gay couples. Whenever possible,  compromise is a good solution. However Davis should be prepared to find herself back behind bars should circumstances revert back…and she once again refuses to…

…abide by the law.


it’s raining cats and dogs…

The rain has come home to roost in the Seattle area. There was never a question as to its returning…it was just a matter of when. Thank goodness hubby and I are pretty near done spiffying up the front yard after a year of neglect. Now I’ve just got to get the slug bait down before those little buggers feast to their hearts’ content. Once they get going, there’s no stopping ’em. Meanwhile the bunny rabbits, cute as they are, continue hippity-hopping about as though they own the yard. Truth be told, they pretty much do.  

So while it drizzles outdoors, here’s a little something to warm your heart and  lift your spirits. 

…gotta love our furry little pets.